In the new room, I lived more than one week and almost all this time was alone. I met my fellow-students only in class and in the library, they all avoided me, although I caught my glances at least once or twice. Lord Mardan, when he regained consciousness, was subjected to execution and shamelessly expelled from Nar-Ankara for an empty death. He was lucky, although in the form of a ghoul I, undoubtedly, it would be easier to take it. What became of the magician's body, I still did not recognize. Apparently, the same as with the rest of the bodies of the deceased slaves, who were in a suitable condition for work. I tried to drive away those thoughts, but before my eyes again and again the same picture appeared: a dark mine and an unfortunate, unnaturally moving mage with empty eyes, terribly changed after death, pushing along with a similar cart with ore...
I have added more teachers. I learned about the incident, and the mentors often engaged with me face to face, taught me things not so much magical as spiritual: concentration, the ability to cool feelings and passions, switch attention ... Patience and concentration were not in my youth a strong side of me - I craved perhaps more quickly to grasp the new knowledge and make it mine, as if in my mind and heart there was a constant fire burning, demanding all new and new fuel, which it was required to toss more and more often. I tried to understand more, remember better, learn faster - and, to my grief, often failed, disappointed, considered myself insignificant and stupid and finally was on the verge of despair. Fortunately, that the teachers noticed it in time, again chastised me for their lack of restraint and since then almost forced me to stop, restrain impulses, even good ones, to take up books with a cold heart. They encouraged me to write down everything I had memorized, what I had learned, and put everything in my diary into my diary - then I had this habit, which proved very useful, although it took a long time before in my greedy mind, absorbing everything without discrimination, the order reigned. I had to admit that I was only a man, that if I act out of myself, driven by my own desires, I will achieve small. I began to learn humility.
My instructors have repeatedly hinted to me that it is worth turning to Asha for help. I have deeply esteemed the great goddess since my childhood, admired her without measure, and although I knew that the Comforter does not need temples, prayers and chants, he secretly offered her thanksgiving in secret. Creation, maintenance of life, endless weaving of destinies, never recurring, and their completion - the goddess has placed too heavy and complex task on herself, no one could cope with it like she does; a myriad of beings and phenomena were bound to be by her own existence, now wounded, laying down and still not breaking away from her duty... With one thought, my heart froze in holy trepidation, and one day I decided.
It was much easier for me alone. Sitting on a modest bed, surrounded by coolness and night darkness, I closed my eyes and repeated everything that usually told the great goddess, and did not notice how he plunged into deep thoughts about her. Lonely, rejected and confused, I reflected on her eternal solitude, about how many the Great Mother has enemies who try to undeservedly offend her, or even destroy her, like the accursed Urgash ... I was filled with admiration and compassion and almost cried - so strong and high were my feelings. Forgetting everything that surrounded me, I directed them to Asha. All love, all the reverence that I felt, I gave to her, leaving nothing to myself; From my chest a light stream flowed out, and suddenly I sensed an answer - something incorporeal, invisible, but incredibly warm gently touched my heart, and the sweetness I felt was stronger than anything I had ever known. My soul lit up with a blessed light, as if the midday sun had miraculously peered out from the night horizon, and this light dispelled pain and sorrow, instantly healed all my wounds and filled me with delight.
"My lady..." I whispered, not remembering myself. "Beloved Lady, the purest of the purest, I pray you, help me." Only for your sake, for the sake of one of you, I desire knowledge, in order to understand you and to reach you, in order to live as you please, only by your own will. I ask, take my soul to myself, I do not wish to entrust it to anyone else, you have created it in your great mercy and right it yourself, as you wish. I'm yours, hundred of me the way you want to see, let me gain wisdom in your name, send me strength...
I do not know how much I prayed, bathing my soul in a wondrous light, and then, overwhelmed with pleasure, tired, but calm and completely happy, I fell asleep and awakened only when the dawn dawn dawned outside the windows. I lit the candles and wanted to, as usual, quickly sit down for the books, but suddenly stopped - no, no good. It is not necessary to extract priceless knowledge for the glory of Asha, and at the same time look like I'm a lodger at a tavern, who suffers from a hangover. I did the necessary spiritual exercises - with such joy, with which I have never performed them before. Gently folded and cleaned the bed, bathed, dried and carefully laid his hair, trying not to let any unruly strand out, dressed in a simple clean dress, laid out on the table necessary scrolls and notebooks for notes and after that, pacified and full of inspiration, began to study. With special pleasure I felt that I was now able to restrain my greed, not to pounce on books like a hungry dog on a brain bone, but to study them with reverence and attention, not missing a single line or a single word. I knew now, for the sake of whom I do this.
I went back to the scroll, which I tried unsuccessfully to decipher for more than a month. The house is a "man-made structure", "where the enemies are locked up", and then almost everything was washed away by sea water, but the drawings suffered less. Two figures - more, female, and smaller. The symbol depicting a stone - in former times, such closed the entrance to the rocky and cave graves...
I suddenly remembered the last words of the deceased magician: "The language of Shantiri is much deeper than it seems to you. Read the scrolls not only with your eyes, not only with your mind, but with your heart, and you will comprehend the wisdom hidden in them ... "I thought. A house where enemies will be locked up ... Where do we keep our enemies when they are captured? Of course, in prison, in prison! Perfectly. Hence, "a house where enemies are locked up (will)" is a dungeon.
Figures of mother and son. Why are children's shoes here? Of course, of course, how could I forget! After all, I read many times that many ancient peoples had to conduct a ceremony for admission to the clan, the family, wearing special shoes for the adoptive son! So it's a foster, a named son. Again, the mention of the house, and then the same child is depicted lying. Dead adoptive son... Or dying when building a dungeon? Few surviving words could not help me, but looking at the drawings, I suddenly guessed everything and easily read: "The adopted son will build a dungeon in the name of the royal mother, at the cost of his life will build." Hardly had I realized this, as the rest, as if by magic, finally formed for me in a single picture, and in a few hours, flown by like a single minute, the translation was almost ready. The language of Shantiri poured into me and opened before me in all its complexity, beauty and depth...
"Dungeon
(the text is lost) ... and the son named in the name of the royal mother will set up a prison for her enemies at the cost of her life. But the prison will be cramped, and the outflow (flight?) Will often be out of it; the mother and son will wait for help, the servant will come (the helper?) and bring the skull of the son, and shed blood, and build a new prison, and the son will be released, and the mother will rejoice with the great joy.
(the text is lost) "
To be continued
Thank you for reading!