Shir Ali was heard by his grandfather, the tea was so fragrant and delicious. Only closer to midnight, their grandmother interrupted them all, and both went to sleep on the veranda.
Grandfather fell asleep right away. And Shir Ali tossed and turned for a long time. And then he decided to make his way to the forge and drink another glass of delicious tea ...
... but surprisingly in the middle of the way from the porch to the kitchen, he fell into the darkness.
There was only a whistle in his ears when he tried to open his eyes, he saw a bright flash, at first it was purple light, then bright white, then deep black and finally he opened his eyes.
"Damn, where am I?" it was the first thought that occurred to him.
He stood on a rocky platform, he was blown by the wind, which conveyed a faint scent of flowers and manure. There was an abyss on the right hand. At the bottom of which a fast mountain river flowed, which carried away large cobblestones. Thus creating a roar and noise. On the left hand on the slope of the ridge fit a small village. In 12 houses. They were all made of flat stones, lilac, and red. And the roof was laid out of trees and grass. The houses were not tall, a meter and a half in height. Well, or so it seemed to him.
"Yes, where it brought me, apparently I hit my head well, and I'm all dreaming of it!" said Shir Ali aloud.
"Hey mard, that gift of in ҷo chӣ gum mekunӣ? Tuba beaқl chӣ menigarӣ? Ba stun of the source, ba hona daroyed"! suddenly he heard an unfamiliar speech.
"And what is it? The language seems to be familiar, but not ours and not imperial ... but I heard it, it seems from Grandma." said ShirAli.
"Man, this one seems to have told me - Hey, man, what have you lost here? What are you looking like a fool? Do not stand a pillar, go into the house!"
"And that's for sure Farsi!" "Damn, but I don't know him very well, it's easier to say I don't even know what to do?" he thought to himself.
A man was dressed in the old way, as village clothes. On their feet are leather boots trimmed with fur. Instead of trousers, linen pants of a dark color, a shirt woolen to the knee, belted with a red scarf. On it hangs a medium-sized knife, a snuffbox made of a small pumpkin, trimmed with silver, with some strange pattern. The man has a beard in two fists, black with gray hair. The face is more European, but swarthy than Asian. A dressing gown with a thick cotton lining is thrown over it. Hands are big, palms are covered with calluses. But the eyes, though wary but kind.
Shir Ali strained his memory and remembered a couple of sentences that he remembered in Farsi, which grandmother often told her sisters. When they came to her house. Grandmother had Arab - Persian roots. From her father's side, she had ancestors from the Saids, and from her mother's side were peasants. An interesting combination.
"Subh bah hair Mӯҳtaram! Salomatӣ wa beҳbudi ba oilai is noisy! Noise chӣ hel? Kaifiyati noisy chӣ hel ast? Ҳamaash hub ast? Oyo man ba kumaki man niyoz drama? Ӣ guna gan man metavonam kӯmak kunam?" Shir Ali said - "Good morning! Dear! Peace and prosperity to your family! How are you? How are you? Are you all right? Do I need my help? How can I help?"
"Is there a noise dumb dagger? Noise az ku азoed? Chi guna noisy ba in cho rasidid?" - Oh, your accent? Where are you from? How did you get here? asked the man.
But on this all the knowledge, Shir Ali was exhausted. Therefore, he switched to the language of Small-An, and simply said that he was from the capital, driving with a caravan, but was lost. When his companions went to see the tree that the Two-horned Barbarian planted.
"Ah, I see why you said such funny words and distorted words," the highlander answered laughing. He spoke with an emphasis on the language of Small-An.
"And how will you get to yours now?" he asked interestedly.
"Well, I want to go over those mountains, there is a path and reach Winter Rabad, that should be my relatives," cunning Shir Ali.
The highlander looked at him suspiciously and asked clearly to check, who were his relatives?
"Well, I don't know them, but they are from my father's kind, Nyman, I am also Nyman, so I think they will help me, my grandfather, Mergen Gafar." Shir Ali knew that his ancestor was Mergen Gafar, a merchant, a former hunter who lived in the mountains of Light, in the village of Arabs. They built their fort in the 9th century, called it "Winter Fort". This settlement survived until the 21st century.
"Mergen? You say, your cousin, the famous hunter Gafar? What do you prove?" the highlander asked.
"Well, how can I prove it? I can only name my family, Nyman, our battle cry" The Good Rich "! We wandered from the River Light in the north to the River Gold Bearing. Tamga is our inverted unicorn head! That's all!" said Shir Ali.
"Yes !, I can't say anything here ... I'm not a nomad ... well, I hope you don't deceive ... otherwise, this Gafar is very strict with deceivers. But it seems you know your kind, and your eyes you honest "!
"Why are you so strangely dressed?" asked the Highlander with sympathy.
"Strange"? And here Shir Ali was really surprised, he was dressed in a kurta, she is not typical for residents of the mountains and the capital. She is dressed in India or Pakistan, in Bangalore or Hyderabad. But these are very comfortable clothes.
"Ah, this is such clothes with us, traders," Shchir Ali was not taken aback.
"Well, let's stand and go to the house," the highlander made an inviting gesture with his hand.
"Let's talk at the table, I'm going to cook pilaf now!" he said.
Shir Ali asked with hope - "pilaf from carrots or pumpkins"?
Highlander, stopped dead in his tracks! "Wow! Little one, how do you know our secret? It's only in our mountains that they cook such pilaf!"
To which Shir Ali was not at a loss and said that he had read in one Chinese book "it says that in the mountains, in the kingdoms of Tsao, they prepare an amazing healing pilaf from pumpkin juice and carrot juice."
"I just read about it!" he hastily declared.
"Ah, as the scoundrel probably wrote about this," the highlander did not specify who it was.
"Well, if you are so lucky today, we will prepare pilaf from pumpkin juice and notice sparrow soup to attract male power, Ahahahhahahaa!" then the highlander laughed.
Entering the house, Shir Ali was surprised that there was no TV, no radio, or anything from the life of the 21st century!
He asked, "Do you have internet or phone here?"
The highlander did not understand what he was talking about. "What-what? What is this telephone or inter ... what is there ..."?
"Well, type of device for transmitting thoughts!" Shir Ali was not taken aback.
Highlander frowned "are you a heretic"?
"NO! But in the Chinese book, it was written that there are old ruins in the mountains where there are such artifacts, I just wanted to look at them!" Shir Ali answered leisurely.
And he thought in his head, yes, it seems he ran into some kind of forge. the sect, you need to keep quiet.
"Ahh, it's about these tales, yes, we have old fire-worshiping temples in the mountains, but there is nothing interesting there, just a stone. All our grandfathers and fathers have already dug up the gold. Now you can't find anything there. By the way, also want to find gold "? the highlander asked and his eyes became serious.
"No, why do I need gold? In the mountains, the steppes, gold is not good, especially for a lone traveler!" Shir Ali answered immediately.
"I'm actually more interested in recipes, new products, we could establish joint trade with you, for example," Shir Ali immediately realized that the theme of gold is not desirable in the mountains. He translated the topic in a different direction.
The highlander's eyes became good again, well, if you came for recipes, then everything is fine, I will help you!