His first step was made carefully, as if entering the lair of the beast. The boy closed the door behind him with caution, producing the least noise possible. As a hunter who fears to alert his quarry, he walked quietly, planning his pace beforehand. Ymdaton halted and listened. Not a sound was heard inside the house. He continued, slipping through empty chambers undetectably. He was close to his destination when, walking around the corner, he nearly crashed into a bald serf. The boy cursed with words which were more for adult’s lips

“Don’t you ever creep on me like this, Ahisys” said he, easing his posture. In a moment of surprise he assumed the battle stance before even thinking.

“I did not creep on you, master Ymdaton. I was going on my business when you suddenly jumped on me” the servant smiled peacefully, “Master Hamisbyr ordered me to tell you he wishes to see you.”

“That this was exactly the thing I tried to avoid,” the boy made a sour face.

“This is your father, you are ought to obey,” said the serf in mentoring tone.

“Where is he now?”

“Inner yard.”

His father was sitting upon a bench, his head lowered. He had a short single edged knife in his hand, carving something out of wood with it.

“Do you know, why I did call you?” asked he.

Ymdaron shook his head. Next moment he understood that Hamisbyr could not see his gesture, for he did not raise his eyes.

“I thought so,” continued his father, as if he knew the answer anyway, “It is the day of Meeting in the West soon. You would like to write your mother a letter, I suppose.”

The boy swore at himself quietly. He totally forgot about the holiday among his harsh training routine.

“You know, cursing does not make you more of a man,” said Hamisbyr, “Here are tools for you. All sanctified, all temple made,” nodded he to the edge of the bench where lied a piece of parchment, a quill and a small pot of ink.

Taking these things, Ymdaton returned to the house quickly, leaving his father who still would not even give him a look.

He was sitting in his room, gazing at the parchment which was spread before him. In his hands was a wet writing tool. In his head were whirling thoughts, so numerous, that even a fat scroll would not be enough to contain them. He was confused and stared at the creamy fabric in front of him without moving for a long time. Finally, he found a phrase to cling to.

Dear beloved Mother. I hope you are having nice time at the West. We were sending you coins all this time and you never had any debts that I heard of. So I suppose you are doing well. I miss you a lot. Sometimes I can still hear your voice in my dreams. I hear you telling me stories, stories of heroes and monsters, of journeys and wars. You know, father is not like you, he doesn’t like to tell stories. He doesn’t talk much at all. I suppose he misses you as much as i do, but he will speak to you in his own letter.

I know that there is no sailing back from the West. But if you could help me somehow. You became close to the stars there where you live now. You can not come and help me anymore, but if you could ask one of them to give me a hint at what I should do.

You understood father well. He was happy and talkative and smiling when you were around. He is not like this now. I do not understand him and he does not understand me. I think I did not turn out like he wanted me to be. I aspire to be a warrior, like him, like men in tales you told me. But he does not want to hear about it. I know it is not right to disobey father, yet I can not go against my heart’s desire. I am confused. I need an advice.

I love you, Mother. I would give anything just to be in your embrace one more time. I know that is impossible though. So take care of yourself and have a splendid life at the West, while I’ll try to do my best here.

Two days later the son and the father were standing side by side in the docks of Isary. They were but two of the numerous crowd: parents and children, husbands and wives, loners who were mostly of advanced age. Everyone awaited the signal to board the ship.

“Have you finished your letter or are you planning to brood over it the whole way, like you did last year?” asked Hamisbyr.

“It is done,” said Ymdaton, making an offended face.

His father reached into the pouch and produced a brass cylinder. He tossed it at his son. Ymdaton catched it and twisted it in his hands. At the side of it dots were embossed. The pattern was in fact the image of western part of the sky, which could be observed few days later. The boy unscrewed the top of the cylinder, revealing it to be a hollow tube. He put inside a rolled piece of sanctified parchment and closed the capsule again.

Soon it was the boarding time. The ship a typical Kinani vessel: two separate hulls fixed together with beams, wooden deck almost square in shape was put above them. In the middle of it, between the hulls was a cabin. It home to the crew and passengers for the time of travel. Three sails shaped like triangles with somewhat curved edges were being raised at the moment. Two bows of the ship were adorned with carved figures of sea monsters. One had horns, but possessed no eyes, the other boasted huge bulbous eyes, but no horns at all. It was not the biggest ship, but not the smallest one either. It was carrying about thirty passengers, not counting the crew, and there was still enough room for everyone.

Their journey was not a long one. The ship simply travelled after the sun. Passengers were all about their business. Some were writing on parchment, unable to put their thoughts into letters, just like Ymdaton was before.

Some played Ymqirib, a traditional game which took place on a board consisting of a dozen of intersecting circles of various sizes. Players moved pebbles of different sizes along the circles, taking turns. Pebbles represented warships, circles represented their courses, and the game itself was a simulation of a naval battle. Whoever successfully boarded or incapacitated all the enemy vessels, did win.

Many amused themselves by ogling citizens of the sea, who followed the ship. Dolphins, flying fish, turtles and even sharks provided company to them. Ymdaton himself spent much time observing various creatures that could be seen in clear waters.

There was a musician on board. On a third day of travel he played and sung for passengers and crew. His instrument was square shaped, with horn-like curved arms and a crossbar between them, which held the strings. His song was about Surbyr, a kinani merchant who sailed so far to the north, that the sun showed there only half the year, while the other half was dark entirely. It told of his adventures and battles against creatures of the night, and treasures that he brought home.

At the dawn of the fifth day the reached Miwon, one of the westernmost kinani domains. It was a city of worship, three times smaller than Ysari, yet housing three times more shrines.

As evening came, the father and the son found a quiet place upon the western shore of the island. It was not so easy, for last seven days people from all Hundred Isles arrived there in order to celebrate Meeting in the West. The beach was teeming with people. An unoccupied piece that they found was cut off with boulders, so they climbed in order to reach there. The reward was a shoreline where they could be alone for a while.

Hamisbyr unfolded a package that he carried with him. Inside was a fruit of his woodwork: a tiny boat which looked exactly like the one which brought them there. Ymdaton’s father put inside the cabin a bronze tube, similar to the one that he gave to the boy. His son did the same afterwards. Finally, the father produced a large golden coin out of his bag. It was as wide as a man’s palm, its head was blank, masterfully polished, while its tail was dented, mimicking scars which could be seen upon moon. It was a sumyr, a ceremonial coin used for offerings. The man hid it in the cabin alongside letters.

A small lamp was placed aft on the deck. Hamisbyr ignited it, using the torch that he brought with him. When later hours of the evening arrived, he went into the water until it reached his waist. There he left the boat.

They were standing silently, watching as ship’s lantern glimmered upon the dark surface of the sea. It was not the only light that reflected on the water. It was surrounded by wavering glares that stars from above created. Most important among them today were Nisirask and Ytenisar, former making his curved course in the west, while the later arrived from across the sea above. They were meeting for a single day each year. They discussed the matters of departed souls: who deserved a peaceful afterlife and who was to be put into service, so he could earn it.

Soon the water began to retreat to the west. Step by step, slowly, the shoreline moved further away, leaving a naked seabed in its wake. Hamisbyr and Ymdaton watched as the glimmer of their small boat moved away with the water, until it discerned from dots of starlight. When it finally vanished, they left their spot and headed back for the town. Not a word was said between them during that evening.