Chapter 17
Rocks - Moshoi
In the morning, I was groggy, and at first I forgot where I was. I should have been hibernating this time of year, so my body was not really ready to get up and get moving. However, Rhabdom’s loud singing awakened me early. I knew he probably did it on purpose. If I slept too long, then the heat would be unbearable as I descended into the valley. It was comical to see the old hermit stooped over a fire, preparing breakfast while singing loudly. He was singing a song that I knew well:
“Yakama! Yakama, they carry our bags;
Yakama! Yakama, they’re such hairy hags;
Their course hair is brown, but their sweet milk is pink;
When they lift up their tails, beware how they stink!
Yakama! Yakama, walk over the crags;
Yakama! Yakama, they look like such nags;
Their course hair is brown, but their sweet milk is pink;
When they lift up their tails, beware how they stink!
Yakama! Yakama, see how their belly sags;
Yakama! Yakama, look like they’re dressed in rags;
Their course hair is brown, but their sweet milk is pink;
When they lift up their tails, beware how they stink!”
Here was the wisest man I knew, on the morning of my departure on a great journey from which I might never return, and he was singing a silly song I had learned as a child. I started laughing, then joined in the last two lines of the song. Rhabdom looked up with a broad grin and greeted me heartily:
“Good morning, Moshoi! Come join me at my table for some breakeveningfast. I know you would prefer a proper breakrockfast, since you have just recently awakened from your rock state, but I hope this will do.”
He had prepared a simple meal of porridge with dried fruits and vegetables thrown in. I realized then that I would miss the breakrockfast when the others awakened, which was my favorite festival, but I tried not to think about it. I respectfully listened in silence as Rhabdom thanked the one god, Adon, about whom he had taught me so much, and then I gulped down the porridge hungrily. Afterward, I thanked my host.
It soon became apparent that while I had slept, Rhabdom had been up half the night gathering together goods for my journey. He brought one item in particular to my attention.
“Moshoi, come here my son. Look at this beautiful clay jug.”
It was shaped just like the kabob jugs that held my favorite meal, with a rounded bottom that came in to a smaller neck and a handle on one side. This one was not sealed with bread at the top, but simply had no opening. I thought at first that Rhabdom was joking, since it was such a common looking item. He was a skilled potter, but this jug was nothing special. Still, I politely walked over to him and took the jug he held out to me.
It was then that I noticed some nondescript marks had been impressed upon it and repeated around the widest part of the jug. It was odd and not in any way impressive or beautiful. In fact, it seemed rather primitive and contained nothing like the intricate engravings that I had seen Tuka create. I was a good blade smith, but Tuka was the engraving artist in our family. He could work in leather, stone, or clay.
“This is the most valuable item that you take with you,” Rhabdom stated. “Guard it with your life.”
I found it very hard to believe that he was serious.
“What’s inside it?” I asked
“It is not what is inside, but the jug itself that is valuable.” Rhabdom explained. “Everything else that you take with you is for convenience. This jug is crucial to your journey.”
I listened carefully, realizing he was serious. If it was indeed valuable, I would have preferred an item much smaller and much less breakable.
“I will wrap it in many blankets,” I assured him.
“When you meet a stranger who treats you with hospitality, draw a circle. If he draws a circle inside it, he is your brother in Adon. A brother stands by his brother. You may rest in the pools in the White Rocks, but beware of the Gates of Hell.”
Rhabdom was starting to sound more like a wise man speaking mysteries. He had a glazed look in his eyes. I listened intently, memorizing every word.
“Man does not live just by eating food, but by digesting every word that comes from the mouth of Adon. The Word will shake the earth and the heavens so that which cannot be shaken will remain.”
The words coming out of Rhabdom’s mouth this morning might mean the difference between life and death to me on the journey to come. I did not understand their meaning, but believed that, if I was careful to remember them, then like all the words he taught me, the meaning would become clear to me at the right time.
Rhabdom asked me to repeat to him the prophecy of the star. His eyes twinkled, and he nodded appreciatively as I got every word of the ancient poem right.
“In Tzoladia, you must find a young man named Amanki, with feet like a duck, and present the jug to him.”
Rhabdom had always been telling me strange things, but this was the strangest. In the prophecy about the star that I had just recited, there was a line about the son of a duck. I had always thought it was symbolic.
“A man with feet like a duck?” I asked. I had rarely seen a duck up close since we lived in such a dry area, but I had often seen these birds flying overhead on their way to the marshes at the foot of Mt. Argus. Their feet were wide and webbed. It seemed ridiculous to imagine a man with such feet.
“Yes, you will see many such men in the capital.”
“Then how am I to know this one?” I asked
“He will have a blue cylinder seal.”
“Sounds to me like looking for a stone on the side of a mountain.”
Rhabdom laughed. “Yes, I suppose you are right. Just like you, he is led by a star. I have great confidence that you will find him. Follow your star.”
I had hoped that Rhabdom would have given me much more specific instructions. Following a star did not seem very precise.
“Why does this Amanki with feet like a duck need the jug?”
“To save man of all kinds,” Rhabdom said solemnly. "This jug must be delivered safely or the Armored people will face heavy destruction." His words sent a chill down my spine far below the scales that covered my back.