Chapter 6

“Gura, will you bless my crops?” the man asked. His wife was holding a toddler on her hip as she stood behind her man. She had circles around her eyes and her face was drawn.

“Bring me a bucket of water and I will bless your crops,” Zuri said. He had walked for eight days, and each day had brought opportunities for exchange of a blessing or two for water, travel rations or a roof to sleep under. He had not encountered a whiff of cynicism or disdain since leaving Kaosa, which touched him deeply.

The man sent his wife to fetch the bucket while the two men walked out into the fields. The farmer pointed out the mishmash of food crops, where three or even four different species were planted together. Between the back field and the food crops were a couple of haphazard rows of a mixed orchard that grew dark brown seed pods and olives. The back field was always the cash crop that was illegal elsewhere in the Kingdom. Whether the goal was the flower, the crushed leaves, or the chewable roots, the variety of substances was astonishing. He had heard the terms most of his life and even glimpsed them in certain taverns or seedy back rooms in Reichen, but he had never queried from whence they came. Their origins were a smuggler’s secret. Not any longer.

Zuri dipped his hand in the bucket and sprinkled a few drops on the front crop. He recited a blessing he had memorized in class his second year. He repeated the rite in the orchard and in the back field. He was relieved that the water was clear and there was no mud at the bottom of the bucket. He took a sip. Deciding the water was as safe as he could determine, he poured the rest in his soft skin flask.

“We’re having a problem with critters eating our crop back here during the night,” the man said.

Zuri nodded. “You are not the only one I’ve heard having the same problem. About a day’s travel back towards Kaosa is a low hill to the north with a couple of crooked trees on top. You know the place?”

“You’re talking about the Witches’ Gallows?” the man asked.

“On the backside of the hill, you will see where people have removed the dirt and exposed a wall of whitish powdery stone; it’s quite soft. Up close, the stone appears yellowish with brown specks in it. Scrape the stone and collect the powder until you have a large basketful. Sprinkle the powder around the border of your crop and it will keep away the vermin. Don’t let your boy put the powder in his mouth though. To be safe, you should burn the basket after using it.”

“God provides,” the man said, and the woman repeated.

“How far to Premia? Zuri asked.

“Two day’s walk from here,” the man said. “Did the Gura there die? His wife died five years back and I expected him to follow.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Zuri said. “I’m passing through and stopping there.”

“Well, the only thing beyond Permia is the Forsaken Plain, as they call it in plain speak,” the man said. “We Old Folk have another name for it: Fundazioa.” When he mentioned the word, his wife tapped her forehead three times with her fingers.

“What does the word mean?” Zuri asked. “I’ve never heard the language before.”

“A lot of the old language is gone,” the man said. “People forget as the generations pass. We all know Fundazioa though. Fundazioa is the beginning from where we came. We’re taught that one day the land will be replenished, and we will return. There are a few Old Folk out there who keep vigil, awaiting the sign of return.”

“Sounds intriguing,” Zuri said.

“They say the first Gura was born there and the first temple built there too,” the man said. “I was out there once, before I took a wife. I didn’t see anything but the wolf packs.”

The toddler started to fuss and after a few moments, broke out into a full cry. “He’s hungry,” the woman said.

“Join us for our meal, Gura,” the man said. “We don’t have much, but we practice the blessing of hospitality.”

“I accept your invitation,” Zuri said, relieved. “I have two pieces of fruit left to peel I must share with you in return. He reached into sack and pulled out the yellow globes with their leathery skins.”

“Limon,” the man said as he broke into a smile. “They’re good for preventing the bleeding gums disease. We are truly blessed with your presence today.”

By the time the meal of bean paste and flat bread was done and eaten, the sun was far to the west. The couple offered Zuri their sleeping mat, but he declined. Laying out his traveler’s cloak, Zuri slept in the front corner of the modest room, near the doorway and halfway under the table.

The next morning, he awoke to voices talking outside. Zuri stepped out to use the privy, nodding to his host and an old man who were sitting on the bench. When he returned, the farmer introduced him to his neighbor, Leniz, from the hills behind his property. As Zuri introduced himself, he noticed a flock of peculiar goat-like creatures munching away at the vegetation on the other side of the road. Their front haunches were larger than their rear ones.

“You like my grogan?” the old man asked.

“I never seen them before,” Zuri admitted. “They seem ungainly.”

“They are bred for the hills and dry lands,” the old man said. “Look at the split hooves; they’re flexible and able to grip the smoothest stone or stay on top of the loosest sand.”

“Leniz is going to Premia to sell his flock,” his host said. “He needs a second man to keep the flock together and you need a companion to get you there in one piece. Together, you will make it to Premia in two days without worry. God has provided us with another blessing this morning.”

“Indeed,” Zuri said. He gathered his cloak and travel sack. Thanking the couple for their hospitality, he chewed on a dried hunk of flatbread as he joined Leniz on the road. With a wave of thanks, the two men began walking with the grogan meandering in front of them. Leniz walked with a long thin stick with a bulb of thistles attached to the end. When a grogan began to wander away, he would tap the creature with the tip of the stick.

“Preda said you are on a mission to Fundazioa,” Leniz said. “Is this true?”

“I cannot say,” Zuri said, knowing the man might take his words in a different manner than he intended.

“Never in the recollections of my family, going back to my great-grandfathers, has Gura returned to Fundazioa. The Gura-sho sends us these broken men to man the temple in Premia, always shattered men. They have not deviated from the pattern in memory.”

“Premia appears to be the end of the world from Lewa Ilu,” Zuri said. “The closer one is to the Capital, the bigger and richer the temple is. The Gura account much prestige to the position they acquire in which temple.”

“Permia must be the asshole of the kingdom Kingdom according to your colleagues,” Leniz said.

“I don’t think they single out one village,” Zuri said. “They have written off the entirety of Qirin Province as far as I can tell. Even the Gura-sho had less in his study than a Seminary student.”

“Good,” Leniz said. “Your words give me great comfort.”

“Eh?”

“Guras are parasites,” Leniz said. “They keep more than they ever give. I have traveled to other provinces in my youth, young man. I have seen the finery and the flattery. I’ve watched their hands take and take while they push one coin with their finger back across the table. You gave your hosts limons last night and they have probably never had one before in their lives. You have proven your name. The others – no.”

“I had no idea,” Zuri said.

“You need to go to Fundazioa,” Leniz said. “Too much time has passed, and Old Folk grow weary of waiting.”

“What is there?”

“Don’t know,” Leniz said. “Many things have been forgotten over time, but not everything. Many of us have gone to the plain in search of our past. We have come up empty. A Gura has never crossed the threshold though.”