A SLAVE, AN OLD MAN AND A MOUNTAIN GOAT 2.2

Fleas watched the dogs running down the street. The loincloth itched, and he did not understand why he had to cover his genitals but the dogs didn't. It also bothered him when he had to relieve himself, because he had to lift it up or push it aside first.

"This place looks promising," said his master, the old knight Dannke. He tied the mountain goat to an oar (a saddle he could not yet use for the fear it felt of Fleas) and went to the awning. Seeing it reminded him of his tribal days.

"Welcome. I'll guess, a new cape. I have a light one, very versatile, ideal for these fall days. I'll show it to you."

Dannke looked at his red cloak, confused, perhaps wondering what was wrong with it.

"No, nothing for me. It's for the little one."

"Oh, a boy," the tailor rubbed his hands together and looked out. When he saw what the boy was, he grimaced so hard that Fleas thought he was going to throw up. "Hmm, I don't think I have a loincloth that disgusting."

"That's the point," the knight explained, "I want him to be presentable. Let's see, that one, I like that one."

He pointed to a white shirt with a blue stripe. It looked small enough.

"Well, who knew that so much effort would be so tragically wasted."

The knight frowned; the tailor opened his eyes and closed his mouth.

"I'll pay for it, if I want to put it on a pig on a rainy day, that's up to me. Some pants too. No boots, he has toe beans for a reason."

Fleas looked sideways at something he liked, but didn't dare say anything. Dannke noticed it, took it and gave it to him.

"This scarf is from the holidays and comes from the Sun Kingdom, its price is..."

"It is free. Let's call it a formal apology for your insults."

The tailor wanted to protest, but under the gentleman's stern gaze, he decided to remain silent. The little one took the handkerchief, which was light gray with a gold print embroidered in the middle. They were like the footprints he left. He didn't know how to use it, so he held it in his hand for the moment. The knight looked at the pants and back at him. He then grabbed his shoulder and turned him around, drew a knife from his belt and made a slash at the height of his tail. Dannke paid and they left. Fleas thought he was going to give him the clothes, but he put them in his bag. The hyaenid looked at him blankly.

"Won't I wear them?"

"Yes, but not so dirty. People on the street don't care about the smell or how dirty a garment is, but nobility... Let's just say we won't get past the door without cleaning you first. Give me the handkerchief as well. It's no use getting it dirty.

They wandered around a bit more, looking for something called a public bath. Apparently there weren't any so close to the wall. There was no fountain either. But they did find a well near several herb and meat stores.

"Take off the rag."

The old man looked in all directions before he picked up the bucket and dumped it on him. It wasn't the nice feeling he had felt at the oasis with Kkelea that night. The water smelled strange, was colder than he had thought, and formed a muddy pool under his paws. They hurried away, for wasting water in that place was the worst of all sins, and when he was dry he put on his clothes. They were even worse than the loincloth. It was tight all over, making him hot and ticklish. The knight handed him the handkerchief. He looked at it again, confused.

"Wrap it around your neck," he said.

Flea put it on. Apparently it was wrong, because the knight sighed, took it off and tied it in a certain way to make the print look better. At least that's what Dannke said; he lowered his head but couldn't see it.

The knight sat cross-legged on a piece of wood and massaged his knees. He pulled a kind of cloth out of his bag, but stiffer and rolled up. He spread it out and handed it to him. Fleas saw some strange marks, as if a worm had crawled across it, leaving a black trail.

"Tell me everything you know about the Savannah. Places, tribes, species, everything."

He looked at him quizzically and cocked his head to one side.

"The Savannah?"

"Yes, point everything you know on the map.

"What is a map?"

"That thing in your clutches," he said after a pause. "Of course you don't know what a map is... Look," he leaned down with difficulty and pointed with his finger, "this is where we are. Imagine this is the world, but seen from above, as if you were a bird."

"What is that?"

"An island. This is the sea and this is the land."

"Sea?"

The knight snorted and looked at the sky.

"Forget it. Look, this is the savannah. Above and below are the mountains."

"But there are no mountains. Nor is Great Wall. Where is the Great Wall?"

"From here to here," Dannke pointed with his finger.

"If I were a bird, I should see it. Nor do I see these stone awnings that surround us."

The knight took another object from his bag. It was like a black twig wrapped in a cloth. He handed it to him.

"Rest it at the point where the wall begins. Look, here. Well, now, without pressing too hard, bring the black tip to where it ends.

He did. A black line magically appeared on the fabric. He smiled and began to wag his tail, looking at the knight with big, shining eyes.

"It appeared. The wall appeared!"

"Yes, yes," said Dannke with little patience. "Now make other things appear, in the savannah."

"But the wall is very thin. That's better. And here is the entrance. We are here, aren't we? The square awnings are missing. There are many, let's see, one, two...."

The gentleman began to laugh.

"I didn't expect to find a hyaenid cartographer. Well, keep it. Take this bag. Put the charcoal and the map in it.

He didn't listen to him, he kept drawing little squares on the map.