The Musafir
Rashid of the Jazirah
Find the sign :
..." **************** "...
From there you can read it. I'm sorry, really.
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The young man did not flicker or bouncy from one roof of the building to the roof of another building even though it was desirable to avoid the crowd that increasingly made his head dizzy with his shreds.
He admitted that Kotaraja Koying is a large city that is very developed. But because of his progress, people from all over the country or from other countries came. They are like a great crowd of larons, and the city is a bright lantern.
It is also true what Chitra Anggini said when the woman told the various things in this city: the level of happiness of the population is very low.
Who would be happy if every day had to deal with the stifling crowds and deafening noise plus the troubling threat of robbery?
The mantan is getting into the city. The pace is getting faster, because the crowd has also been reduced a lot without realizing it. Noise subsiding. Likewise with Mantingan's heart pounding that gradually calms down.
When he found an open shop by the side of the road, Mantingan immediately entered it without a second thought. Before starting everything with caution, he should calm down first!
The shop Mantingan visited this time was not in the building, but was on a small patch of land on the side of the road. The sheet of cloth spread wide, lacing the shop, the gentle breeze made it bumpy.
There are tables and chairs in the shop. Some have been filled. Most visitors have the appearance of Suvarnabhumi people, but there is one visitor who looks foreign. High-statured and tall. Nosed. With a thick bust in the jaw and chin, almost form a sideburn. The top of his head was wrapped around a long cloth, which Mantingan knew was named turban. The man who was in his thirties was wearing a long green robe, so long as the robe touched his ankles. On his lips, tucked in a smoky pipe, could it be that he sucked on the hornbill because the dish he ordered had not come yet or indeed the shell itself was his order?
The man had glanced at Mantingan, but only a passing item. Look back at the street while continuing to suck the stem of the hornbill.
Looking at the hankclong, a few more Mantingan returned to remember the Swordsman Sanca Merah. The woman also sucks the hornbill, either by liking or forced, because the Red Sanca Science she mastered needed smoke as an intermediary for Magic Threads to control the Soul Golek.
How for Mantingan, the tough woman is a true warrior. When death picks him up, no Red Sanca warrior holds a grudge against him. He was grateful because Mantingan had defeated him, which was tantamount to killing him, which was the same as perfecting his martial path. In fact, the female swordsman passed down the Red Book of Sanca containing the Science of Red Sanca to her just before her breathing stopped.
Red Sanca science is useful for Mantingan to control his artificial arm. With that knowledge, he could sense touch with his artificial arm, which in other words his sense of touch could work on that wooden arm.
Forgetting the Red Sanca Swordsman, Mantingan immediately walked towards the table in the corner of the tavern. As usual. It was only there that he could monitor the entire store without attracting much attention.
...****************...
MANTINGAN called the shopkeeper. Ordering tea. Then offered what kind of desired. The mantle frowned. Seeing the confusion of Mantingan, the servant explained.
“Our shop has different types of tea. Almost everything we have. Tea from the Land of the Roof of the Sky, Champa, even to Jambhudvipa. Each type has its own taste. Which one did you choose?”
When Mantingan went silent to digest what the waiter said as well as thinking which tea from which place he should buy, only a voice answered.
“Buy him tea from Jambhudvipa. Its taste and aroma are perfect for a traveler.”
The mantel looked for the man who spoke, and found him the foreign man who sacrificed. That person smiled towards Mantingan while nodding his head. While the Mantingan who understands must behave as to what directly menjura.
But before actually leaving, first the waiter ensured the order Mantingan. “Can you really buy tea from Jambhudvipa?”
“I don't really know what I should order, so please bring me that tea.” The thin smiling mantle.
The waiter nodded his head before leaving.
“O Wandering Brothers, would you please if I sat with you at that table?” The stranger opened his voice again.
“Very well, Brother, come here.” The mantan smiled kindly and kindly, although he still fully did not understand why the stranger could know that he was a wanderer. For this reason, he invited her to sit down with him.
“Too crowded, Brother.” The mantel countered with a thin smile.
“And that's what makes you visit this store, right?”
The heart of the Mantingan stopped beating the stuff a blink of an eye, before racing so fast. How could the foreign man know something that should only be stored in Mantingan's mind? Was he a spy sent by the Koying government or something?
Mantingan immediately put up vigilance to the highest level. Until unknowingly, his hand touched the handle of the Savrinadeya Sword and Kiai Kedai which was adorned on his waist.
“No need to be surprised. I am a wanderer, just like you, and I have experienced what you are feeling now.” The stranger smiled broadly. “My name is Rashid, a traveler who came from the Peninsula to collect stories of travelers all over the places I traveled. Daku is known as the Gatherer of Saga from the Passage, but not a few call me the Collector of Saga from the East.”
Mantingan had heard of the Jazirah region from his teacher. A vast land that is almost all filled with desert. It is located on the east side of Jambhudvipa. With hundreds of tribes that inhabit it.
But for the saga gatherer, Mantingan had never heard before.
“You can call me Mantingan, come from Javadvipa.” The mantel reintroduces itself. “If I may know, Brother Rashid, how can you know I am a traveler?”
The mantle was well convinced that the bundle was inside the pedicure. He forgot to bring it, but it was no problem at all. Since the events that occurred in Pesawahan Village, Mantingan realized that everything in his bundle could endanger the martial world in Dwipantara, then he always put a protective spell to lock the bundle. Apart from her, no one else could open the bundle, even though Chitra Anggini had become her traveling companion.
“Enough by looking at your footsteps.” Rashid replied while maintaining his big smile. “However, the roughness of your hair, the color of your skin, until the look of your eyes more convincing me. You are a wanderer.”
Mantang exhaled a sigh of relief. There were no visible signs of lies from Rashid's facial expressions or gestures. And even if there is, the whole answer makes a lot of sense.
“You must have seen a lot of things outside this magnificent city.” Rashid said again while throwing a look at the sky, as if he was staring at anything outside the city. “And if your travel story is written on a sheet of throwback or sheet of paper, it will certainly be very long and tiring once.”
Indeed Mantingan admitted that to write the story of his journey, it takes a lot of effort. Tired not playing. However, it is not tired of the body, but tired of the mind, because Mantingan must arrange words as beautiful as possible so that the reader will feel comfortable. Sometimes if there is a writing error, Mantingan must write it from the beginning again, or by being forced to leave it alone because however fix the writing error on the font is not as easy as removing the script written in the sand.
But no matter how tired it was, Mantingan still felt happy. Not squealing an item. He had a strong, very strong belief, in fact, that his story would be useful to many people. Not a story that is meaningless. If not now, then maybe someday.
“Didn't it be very unfortunate if the journey you have passed with all the fatigue in it becomes forgotten?” Rashid said again. Really, the big smile on his face did not fade.
The mantan began to know the direction of this conversation. So he chose to be quiet and wait for Rashid to express all his intentions.
“It looks like you know what I mean, Mantingan.” Rashid laughed a lot. “I intend to buy your travel story, and then I introduce it to the whole world. Your story will not be forgotten. You will not be drowned by history. Survive centuries old, even up to thousands of years.”
The mantan nodded his head slowly. “My story is not finished, Rashid. And even if it is finished, I will not entrust it to anyone carelessly.”
“I'm not the random person you mean, Hero.” Rashid laughed as he pulled out a throw from inside his robe. “Do you know who wrote the heroic saga for White Wind College? If not, then you should see this.”
Rashid thrust the ejection towards Mantingan, who was immediately seen with great care by the young man.
The throw is not empty. Contains Pallawa characters. Compose a sentence:
With this sign
Rama agreed
Rashid wrote a story
Mantingan glanced at Rashid with twitching brows. On top of the ejection sheet, there was a patch of soil color, which else if not a long-drying patch of blood?
“Five months ago, Hero, I wrote a very remarkable story. The sacrifices of the dozens of White Mask Troops who continued to fight with all their souls and bodies despite knowing very well that their lives would be exhausted once the fight was over. And it has been a great honor for the Tell-Gatherer of the Passage to write your name once or twice in that story.”
