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It happened at the very end of winter, in my thirty-fifth year. I sat at the edge of a slope that ran down to the shore of the Maragor Sea and enjoyed the sight of a flock of flamingos roaming the calm shallow waters. I heard someone approach me and turned around. I saw a man of indescribable features: he was tall like a tree and his skin was pale like that of the night Moon. His garments wrapped around him in a way that none of any of the people in our valleys did. His face was young and bristleless, but his eyes were dark and old. His head was bald, his hands were long and sinewy; on his left annular finger he had a piece of metal that shone like a drop of water, and in his right hand, he had a staff. On the whole, his look was either that of a spirit or death itself.

Seeing him, I jumped up and grabbed my spear, but the man held a hand up and said, “Be well and be calm. I have not come to squabble with you. ˮ He then showed his palms and his sides – I saw that he did not have any weapons. He looked outlandish, but he was smiling warmly, and I figured that at the very least he was not hostile, so I put my spear down and shared my place with him.

For some time we sat together, watching the flock of birds fly up and down, and shuffle and mingle until he said to me,

“People around here say you're an outstanding teller. ˮ

To which I said,

“Well, Teller is my name. ˮ

And that was true because this is what “Dyoviˮ means in our language.

“People around here also say you do not seem to have your proper place. ˮ

And that was true as well, for my tribe had drowned in flood three years ago. I'd been rambling around the valley ever since enjoying the kindness of local tribes.

We sat a little more in silence. Then the man said to me,

“I have something to tell you. Would you like to hear it? ˮ

I nodded slightly and he proceeded,

“Long ago I created this world for my own entertainment. I drew all the lands and inhabited them with life of all sorts. I filled seas and rivers with water, covered mountain tops with snow, crowded skies with clouds. I made it as alive as possible and thus condemned it for misery. I guess I owe an apology to all of you. ˮ

I cautiously looked at him. His speech did not make sense, and I was starting to think that this was another one of those poor albinos from the Klenvi tribe. I heard there had been many of them born there in recent years; harassed and rejected, they quickly fell prey to fraudulent spirits, and their lives had been hard and dismal. But he could have been a spirit himself; you never know in this world.

The man continued,

“For a time I wanted to scrap it all and forget about it. Burn all the books and pictures and delete all files. Screw it all and start my life anew. ˮ He then turned to me, and I saw that his eyes started filling with tears. “I wanted to delete you,ˮ he said. I did not know the meaning of the word and though he still did not look hostile, I located the spear with my hand – just in case.

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“But then one of my friends told me,ˮ the strange man continued. “‘You've spent so much time on this. You cannot just scrap it at this point. You've got to get at least something out of it.’ And I realized that he was right. ˮ

He turned away from me and looked up at the sky, and let out a deep sigh.

“What does ‘delit all fayals’ mean? ˮ I asked gently, but he did not answer; instead, he turned to me again and said,

“Would you do me a favor? This world is huge, and I cannot grasp it all. I need helpers. I need somebody who would go around and take down the stories the people here tell. So how about this: you get a purpose – a proper place – and I will help you with it? ˮ

“What does 'tayk-daun' mean? ˮ I asked him, but he simply smiled again.

“Never mind that. Just listen to people’s stories and remember them. Listen to anything they will tell you. If anybody asks you to tell stories to them – do so, don't hold anything back. So, would you do it for me? ˮ

Now I had to sit silently for some time and consider. I used to travel to a lot of places when I was younger, and I still did that sometimes. I knew that this world was immense and rich, and also harsh and full of dangers.

“But how am I to do all that? ˮ I asked, “The world is so huge! Only getting to Lake Soddo takes eight days of straight walking. How can a mortal like me walk over it all in a lifetime? ˮ

“Don't worry about that,ˮ the man said, “I will help you. ˮ

Thirty-five years old is the period when one is supposed to settle down. It's the time when one sits beside the fire and plays with children, tells their favorite stories and gives advice, masters tools, and judges the misdeeds of the youth. This was how tribes in the valleys saw it, and even though I had long fallen out of this norm, I still felt that sooner or later I'd have to fit back into it. I'd have to get my proper place, and taking this request meant that I would have to forget about it altogether. On the other hand – so what of it? It would have been a lie to say that I was not excited – oh, I was thrilled at the prospect of seeing the things that I hadn't seen yet. And what's interesting, I didn't feel much resistance – even my guardian spirit was silent, and that meant a lot. As they say in our valleys, “You may be silent, but your eyes screamˮ, and so the man clearly saw the answer in my eyes. He nodded approvingly and rose to his feet towering above me. He stretched out his hand, and in his palm were now four clear crystal-like stone spheres: black, yellow, green, and blue.

“These are your helpers,ˮ he said. “Throw the blue one, if you feel thirsty. Throw the green one, if you feel hungry. Throw the yellow one if you feel tired or endangered. Throw the black one, when you don't understand what you're being told. ˮ

With that, the man walked away. He reached the top of a hill and turned, and said, “I thank you! ˮ Then he went down into a dell, up the next slope, and eventually, he disappeared behind the trees.

I was sitting at the edge and studying the stones that were given to me. They shone and sparkled, and were transparent, and inside them, I could see lines and features, but what they were I couldn't tell. Curious, I threw out the blue one to see what was going to happen. The stone landed in the dirt, and immediately a small stream of water sprang from it. This was exciting to see, for this meant that it was all true.

For some more time, I sat there, thinking about my new position, thinking of the past, fantasizing about the future. I sat there until the sun neared western lands and the flocks of flamingos flew away, and girls from a neighboring tribe passed the shore with baskets full of clams and asked me what I was up to.

The last of my doubts had already faded by that time. With a smile, I got up and trod off.

I made my preparations overnight. I shared with the spirits of my deceased fellows, and I asked the spirits of land and water for blessings; I picked the best tools and the best spear, and I took care of my hair to please my guardian spirit (for that is where our guardian spirits live). The next morning, from the very moment when the Sun showed itself on the eastern horizon, I took my cloak, my waist belt, my spear, and a basket laden with presents. I walked around the valley of the River Ma, paying visits to all of the tribes that had been kind to me: Wevi, Wihe, and Klowe, and Deaded, and Dearad, and Nishewe*. For six days I had been walking around the valley, thanking the tribes and leaving them presents, and on the seventh day, early in the morning, I left the valley, never to return in the upcoming thousand years.

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Footnotes:

* - /ˈwɛvi, ˈwihɛ, "klowɛ, dɛaˈdɛd, dɛaˈrad, niˈʃɛwɛ/