"Hey! Worthless scum!"
A strong kick to my backside nearly made me sprawl completely.
"What are you digging around in the sand for? Decided to join your women? It's unworthy of a man to collect dung and grass. Gather some courage, stand up and meet my fist with your own!"
I remained silent because I was busy with something very important. I was searching in this damned sand, not for a stick—where would one appear near the village?—but for a simple stone. After all, it's possible that over the years they might have missed at least one stone here! A heavy one, preferably with sharp edges, so that when I bring it down on the head of this brainless idiot Virgl, I can see how red his blood is.
"Hey! Brats!"
Suddenly behind me came the pitiful cries of my tormentors and the sounds of solid blows.
"Get out of here!"
Now the lazy voice of my main tormentor sounded:
"Senior Di, we were just talking to this trash. Like men to a man. What kind of man will this outsider grow up to be if he keeps hiding behind others' backs?"
"Virgl, don't test my patience!" Another blow sounded and someone cried out. "One day I'll break your gang's arms and legs!"
A brief silence and then that hateful voice again:
"Let's go, guys."
I got up from all fours and sat down on the sand, mindlessly letting it slip through my fingers and staring at the retreating backs. I thanked my protector:
"Thank you, Uncle Di."
After a pause, he thoughtfully replied:
"They're becoming more brazen."
I finally looked up at the muscular man standing before me. His short dark hair was covered with a layer of fine gray dust from the wastelands. On his kind, sun-darkened face was a visible mark of guilt: in his slightly pursed lips, in the wrinkles on his forehead. And I couldn't look into his blue eyes. Uncle Di stubbornly avoided my gaze, looking anywhere but at me.
"Not surprising." I smiled sadly. "The chief's son is growing up, preparing to take his place. And training his loyal sycophants."
Uncle growled angrily:
"What kind of 'chief'! An appointed village head. The only thing noteworthy about him is his Elevation! If he makes the slightest mistake, the first Inspecting Warrior would kick him out of the main hut."
"Words," I noted calmly, finally looking into his blue eyes. "Our 'not-quite-chief' has enough power to throw our family outside the village fence if my mother fails to please him just once. And even you are helpless against him. After all, you didn't hit Virgl, did you, Uncle Di?"
Uncle looked away again, but eventually forced out an answer:
"You're a very smart boy. Your father would be proud of you. I'm sorry you have to grow up so quickly."
I laughed bitterly:
"Unfortunately, his son is now the most despised resident of our village. Uncle Di, please leave me."
"Yes, forgive me, my boy, but a gap of two stars of Elevation is not something that can be overcome by simple desire." Uncle paused and continued: "Take this and give it to your mother, fortune smiled on me today."
I listened to the rustle of retreating footsteps, and then to the silence of the wasteland, which was slowly being filled with the chirping of insects, and my mind was blank until something got caught between my fingers. Not at all suitable for breaking heads: a strange, smooth, black rectangle the size of an adult man's thumb. It looked like a fragment of the Ancients' legacy. Well, let this stone remind me every day of today's humiliation and powerlessness.
After turning the smooth, shiny-faceted find, which hundreds of years in the sand hadn't damaged, and still not understanding what it might be, I tossed it into my neck pouch with other small items and turned my attention to the jute bag left by my uncle. Pulling the drawstring, I loosened the neck and looked inside. Just as I thought. A kvyrgal carcass. Father, when he went to the wastelands with the villagers, praised Uncle Di as an excellent hunter. So today our family would feast.
I folded my hands into a cup shape and bowed to the almost disappeared footprints of the only person in the village who helps us:
"Thank you, Uncle Di!"
And, groaning from a fresh bruise, I got to my feet. The stew won't cook itself.
My sister returned home first and helped me with dinner. She had already scraped the table clean, poured boiling water over it, wiped it, arranged festive white clay glazed bowls, and now was running around the hearth with eyes shining with happiness. And I, making a stern face, occasionally threatened her light-colored head with a spoon.
Mother returned, as always, after dark, when the sun had set. I helped her unfasten the straps of her carrier, which had sunk deep into the sand that had turned black under the moonlight, and when she staggered from exhaustion, I took her by the elbow and led her to the hut. And only there did I give vent to my anger.
I was boiling with indignation and pacing around the house while my sister helped mother wash the sand off herself from the hanging washbasin. No wonder mother was gray with fatigue—leaving home at sunrise and following wild jayrs through the wasteland all day to fill the largest carrier in the village.
"Why did you collect dung cakes until dark?"
"I want to go to Black Mountain tomorrow for herbs, so I needed to collect a double quota of dung today. Good thing your mom still knows some secret places where none of the villagers have ever ventured."
I could almost see through the curtain how a tired smile lit up her face, smoothing out the sad fold at her lips, making her the most beautiful in the world.
"Mom..." I felt moisture filling the corners of my eyes. "What places, what mountain?! You're all we have left, don't you dare go out of the village alone to forage. What will happen if you encounter a Monster?"
Mom pushed back the curtain and stepped toward me with a smile.
"Come now, what's this..." She pressed me to her chest and began stroking my head. "I'm a very cautious and experienced woman. You could say I'm a wasteland veteran. I know well where and when it's safe to go. And I have eight stars of Elevation, don't forget!"
I tried to break free from her arms:
"Father knew that even better! And he was even stronger than you! And where is he now?"
"Darling, what happened?" She wouldn't let me break free—only pull back slightly. "Were they bothering you again?"
"Yes," I forced out, lowering my eyes to the cleanly swept floor. "They were saying a lot of hurtful things. Mom, maybe you could ask to join the herb-gatherers' team?"
"I see." After a pause, mom sighed and squeezed my shoulders. "They were taunting you about my work again. But... you do understand that in our god-forsaken wasteland, in our lowest-rank settlement, it's impossible to find any decent occupation?"
I nodded reluctantly. This conversation had happened in one form or another before, but it still hurt and was offensive.
"More than half the village women collect jayr dung cakes. How else, if a piece of wood here is a treasure? Yes, there is cleaner work: gathering herbs, cooking food for hunters, looking for stones, scraping hides, working with them—after all, your mother is a leatherworker!"
Mom fell silent for a moment, and then literally hissed:
"But to get any other job, you need to ask our chief! I will never ask your father's murderer for anything!"
"What?!" I looked up in confusion. "But father was torn apart by a Monster! He died from his wounds!"
"My children," mother said dully, finally releasing me. "I must confess to you. I am guilty of the misfortunes that have befallen our family."
Mother turned her burning gray eyes on me, the reflections from the hearth casting shadows on her fine features, changing expressions on her face like masks.
"Leila can't remember this, but you, son, must. This barren, forgotten wasteland on the edge of the White Wasteland is not our true home. And a wagon and endless road were not always our shelter. Yes, the Zero Circle is a place cursed by Heaven, but you were born in one of the best corners of the Wasteland. Your father and I lived in the five-star settlement of Arroyo, in the Black Wasteland. And we were respected people there. A blacksmith and a leatherworker, nine and eight stars of Elevation. Few could look down on us. Do you remember our home, son?"
"Vaguely. In fragments. I remember a large house. A wooden table," I forced out under the demanding gaze of eyes that so resembled my own. "Tubs with soil and flowers. Wide streets paved with stone."
"Yes. Yes, that's right," mom nodded and covered her face with her hands for a breath, wiping away tears. "Our home. Your father always dreamed of taking us all to the First Belt. You know that for the ninth star, which he achieved, this is impossible. But he was always looking for a way to overcome his stagnation, asked advice from old-timers who remembered life in other Belts. Though what could people who had fallen to the Zero advise him? Trash, like all of us. However, he didn't lose hope. One day he got a chance, and he fulfilled a small order for a new Warrior appointed to Arroyo as an Inspector. And as payment, he asked him for advice. I stood nearby and remember everything as if it were now."
Mom raised her head, looking somewhere above us, at the shadows dancing on the walls. Her face froze in one eerie, terrible mask with hollow eyes.
"Advice that brought us to this cursed place. The Warrior said: 'Your talent and understanding of the basics that everyone is taught are very poor. You took a wrong turn in childhood. You're already a grown man, and it's very difficult for you to change things that have long been absorbed into your bones. The best way to break through your stagnation would be to go on a journey. New places, new people, observing the world, fighting at the limit of your strength will help you understand your mistake and take the last step beyond it, beyond the capabilities of an ordinary person. To get to the tenth level, to touch the limits of the Tempering stage. There are easier paths, but in the Zero they are not available to you.'"