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teary-eyed swordsman rose and began to gather some of those pebbles. Laughing Naumkib children
helped him, delighting in his joy and praise when they handed him a particularly large or bright pebble.
Simna ibn Sind spent a pleasant and gratifying morning at the seashore, collecting pebbles until his
backpack was half full.
 I m not a greedy man, he told Ehomba when he was sated. He hefted his pack higher on his shoulders,
and the weight of diamonds within clinked as they shifted and settled.  This little is enough for me. I m
going to go home and buy myself a small kingdom.
Ehomba regarded his friend gravely.  Are you sure that is what you really want, Simna? To own a small
kingdom?
The swordsman hesitated, his smile fading. For a long moment he stood there, listening to the waves roll
in to rustle the beach of diamonds, to the music of children playing, the chatter of merapes on the rocks
offshore and the cries of seabirds and dragonets. Then he looked up at his tall friend and grinned anew.
 No, long bruther, I m not sure that s what I want but I am going to give it a try.
Ehomba nodded sadly.  Come into the village with me and we will arrange for the supplies you will
need. I can give you some directions, and an introduction to a certain helpful monkey you may meet.
Simna left the following morning, the herdsman escorting him as far as the fifth beach north of the village,
where the fog began.
 If you re ever in the far northeast, the swordsman told his friend,  seek out the khanate of
Mizar-lohne. That s my homeland, and I ll settle myself somewhere nearby. He grinned one more time.
 There are always kingdoms for sale thereabouts. He sighed ruefully.  Who knows? Perhaps I might
make another journey to find Damura-sese.
 You have been a good friend, Simna ibn Sind, and a boon companion. One last time, Ehomba put a
hand on his friend s shoulder.  Travel well, keep alert, and watch where you put your feet. Keep looking,
keep searching, and perhaps one day, with luck, fortune might smile upon you and you might find
Damura-sese.
The swordsman nodded, started to turn to go, and then paused. The sun was not yet high and it fell in his
eyes, making him squint.  One last thing, Etjole. One thing I must ask. He moved closer so he would not
have to squint as hard.  Are you, or are you not, a sorcerer?
Turning away, the herdsman gazed off into the distance and smiled: that same familiar, enigmatic smile
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Simna had come to know so infuriatingly and so well in the course of their long journeying together.
 I have told you and told you, Simna. I am only a student, an asker of questions, who knows barely
enough to make use of what the wise ones of the Naumkib provide me.
 By Gunkad, long bruther, answer the question! Not to be denied or put off any longer by clever
evasions, the swordsman fumed silently and stood his ground, both physical and forensic.
Ehomba looked down at him.  Simna, my friend, I swear to you by the blue of the sky and the green of
the sea that I am no more a  sorcerer than any man or woman of my village, be they herder of cattle,
hewer of wood, thresher of grain, or scraper of hides.
The swordsman met his gaze evenly and looked long and hard into the eyes of his friend. Then he
nodded.  What will you do now?
 Watch over the cattle and the sheep. Be with my wife and children. In the time I was gone, my son
reached the age when all Naumkib are initiated into the lore of adults. That is a task I must begin
tomorrow.
 Hoy, I wish I could stay, and I don t want to offend you, but I m really not interested in sitting through
some quaint ceremony where a boy learns how to castrate cattle or dock sheep or paint his face with
vegetable dyes. With a last regretful grin, he spun on his sandals and headed north, pausing once at the
top of a ridge to turn and wave. Then he vanished, welcomed and swallowed up by the sea fog that hung
perpetually over the coast north of the village, and Ehomba saw him no more.
* * * *
On the morning of the following day the herdsman took his son Daki out of the village, heading inland.
Mirhanja packed them a lunch and bade them good-bye, but not after extracting from her husband a
promise to be back well before nightfall.
The trail father and son trod was narrow and overgrown in many places with weeds and vines, so that it
was difficult to see. It wound its obscure way into the grassy hills behind the village until it terminated next [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]