Joke of the Doers

- Mommy, tell me again about Dad... - Bertin hugged a shaggy bear cub, sewn recently by his grandmother, flattening his skinny, not recovering, little body. - What can I tell you about him, little bear? You already know everything... - Bertin was crazy about these brown and strong animals, not uncommon in our mountains. And this childhood nickname, which stuck to him, like his "Bertin", the sleeping bear, reminded me of how Tibold and I could not find a name for our second baby. And only when we heard about the attack of the connecting rod bear on the hunters' parking lot, we looked at each other and almost simultaneously uttered this word. Laughter sealed our deal, and the baby became the one who bears the blessed nickname given to him from birth with great pride. - How did you and Dad meet? Is it true that he got an eldvice for you and almost fell off a cliff? My son and Tibold have already heard this story a thousand times, and I started telling it to him for the thousandth time. Suddenly there was a knock on the door of our house. Someone shouted: "The Widow Thibault! Widow Thibault! He's dying! Hurry up! Help! - Mom? Avidea's worried voice came from behind. I stroked Bertin's head and, adding more confidence to my voice, said: - Go to bed... I'll go to my grandmother, let her look after you... - But Mommy... - Bertin was clearly upset that I was not allowed to continue my story, to which I kissed my son on the forehead and assured him: - I'll tell you in the morning, sleep, little bear... - Your job again... When Dad was alive, he wouldn't let you go out at night!!! I could hear the irritation in Avidea's voice. She sighed, tied a warm shawl over her head, threw on a sheepskin coat and went out into the frosty night. The bright stars blinded me. In our mountains, they shone so brightly and were so big that it seemed that if you stretched out your palm, they would fall into it like bunches of ripe tamarin... - What happened? I asked a wizened woman, Kaldia Trong, our community accountant and housekeeper. - He ate too much kulpachiha again, and now he is suffocating... Her husband, the obese and lazy shoemaker Oldat Trong, had an individual intolerance to kulpachiha, our local berry. Kaldia therefore tried not to keep it in her house, but Oldat sometimes brought it from relatives or friends, and demonstratively ate it, forcing his wife and me, the healer of our community, to worry very much. He did not believe in any intolerance, and when the attack was over, he said the same thing: - It was Kaldia who added stamens to my braga... That's what twisted me... The shoemaker respected Braga very much and drank it almost daily. Of course, no stamens have ever floated in the braga: this herb is very poisonous. To poison Sumbarakhs with it, and not to treat alcoholism... We no longer argued with the stubborn shoemaker, but simply treated him. I - with herbs and ointments, and my wife - with persuasions and hugs. - Oldat, you can't... - Don't stick your stamen in the braga, you stupid woman... - the shoemaker mumbled while I helped Kaldia undress him and wipe him with a solution of kaluzhnik. I definitely didn't like his reddened, swollen skin on his hands and face. Such redness could be a sign of apoplexy, but the doctor from our central Strevin was supposed to come to our community only at the beginning of spring. I had to consult with my father. - Kaldia, I'm leaving, - and while the hostess was escorting me, she quickly explained to her how harmful it is for Oldat to eat kulpachikha berries. Kaldia let out a bitter sigh, and her mouth twisted: "Ayo, you can see for yourself how stubborn he is! What can I do? - Talk to him... - It's useless... Maybe your father...? Shrugging my shoulders, I left. Rare lights and stars were my fellow travelers on the way home. It was still far from dawn, but sleep had already escaped me. I brewed tumyana leaves for myself and began to sip a hot broth, enjoying the minutes of silence and the beautiful night sky...Our guardian of Hell created this world so unbearably beautiful that sometimes my heart ached with joy and pride that I was born here, on Adania! My father used to say that not all worlds are as regular and bright as ours. Ada protects her creation, cherishes it, protects it... Even if everything in our world is not as perfect as we, its inhabitants, would like, but we strive for this perfection, ideal... Equality, justice, work for others is a joy for ourselves... We absorbed these and other ideals with our mother's milk. Every person on Adania knew that a departure from them would mean the collapse, the death not only of a particular apostate, but eventually of the whole world... We wanted to live, and live well... When dawn began to flood the kitchen with a dim winter light, yawning, I went up to my bedroom, trying almost not to stomp. But the wooden floorboards still creaked under my feet. The children, thank the guardian, did not wake up, and I began to quickly undress. There wasn't much time to sleep, but I couldn't sleep again, going over the events of the past day and the beginning of the night in my head. I caught sight of a photo of our family, still standing on the dresser in my room. There were pictures of me, Tibold, six-year-old Avidea and two-year-old Bertin. The tragedy was only a year away. Another year of cloudless happiness, love and aspirations. Who knew that Tibold and I were allowed so little? I haven't cried for a long time, but now, against my will, tears rolled out of my eyes. "That's it... I cry alone at night into my pillow... Like some kind of there... the widow..." So, in quiet tears, so as not to wake the children, I fell asleep... In the morning I went to my parents, taking the restless Bertin with me. Avidea went to school. There were still three long years before her graduation, during which she had to decide what profession she wanted to get. Will she become a healer like me? She had a gift, and I tried to develop it in her. Or maybe she wants to become an architect and stay in our so many cities of Dementia? There is always a very popular young and talented audience. The Queen loves to invite young talents to the capital and patronize them. I didn't really like this scenario, but I thought that Avidea should decide everything herself... My parents strongly disagreed with this. At one time, they did not let me go to the capital, having counted and convinced me that there are enough doctors of average skill there without me, and in our community, dexterous hands and a faithful look are constantly required. "The Widow Thibault! Widow Thibault! There! There! - there were shouts from the outskirts. Who saw me approaching the ancestral house of the Nievo family and did not deny himself the pleasure of shouting at me all over the street. I looked around. Bertin snuggled against my side, and I stroked his head soothingly. What could he feel there through the hat? But my baby smiled at me encouragingly. That's how we've always supported each other. My attention was immediately attracted by a shoemaker familiar to me, running with all his short and powerful legs in my direction. "The Widow Thibault! Widow Thibault! He stopped in front of me and bent down, resting his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. The gate creaked behind me. - What kind of fire? My father's loud, low bass voice rang out. - What are you making noise for, neighbor? - Good morning, Father! - Morning... kind... So what happened? - my father pushed me aside with his huge body, as if pushing me into the gate. - There... The gates of Hell... They let in a stranger... "What?" - I myself have now rounded my dad, towering over all of us and blocking the passage to the gate on a narrow path trodden in high snowdrifts. - Have you had enough of kulpachihi again, Oldat? What are you talking about? - I'm only saying what I saw myself... - the shoemaker was offended. - Kulpachikha... kulpachikha... I won't eat it anymore, Ayo... Only the Gate really let an outsider into our world. "And where is he?" - I still didn't believe Oldat. We don't really believe that a Bathing witch comes down to earth on a Lunar holiday, and if she meets you on the road, she will offer to swim, and once you give your consent, she takes you with her... Yeah, it is. I chuckled. But Oldat answered firmly: - Lying there, at the Gate... - So what are you... - the father walked briskly along the path to the outskirts. - So I am... And he ran to call our doctor... It must have become bad for him there, so he lies there, poor fellow!!! - Bertin, go inside! - I ordered my son, seeing my mother in a warm shawl at the porga. My son, surprised, opened his father's blue eyes and, with his back, stepped out of the gate. I sprinted after my father, who was already almost running, swinging through slippery places and small snow drifts. The cobbler was puffing behind me. There were practically no people on the street, but two or three passers-by, our local community gossips, were surprised to see how our trio deftly jumped over the snowdrifts. The path behind the village has become narrower. My feet slipped and stumbled, but I, along with Oldat, tried not to slow down. The snow, in anticipation of the first thaw, became viscous and moist, but the cold and frosts had to keep their strength for another forty days. The icy wind hit my face, which was not covered with a handkerchief: it was much warmer in the settlement. - Here it is, Vauh, look! It's getting dark... I squinted, standing against the sun. It was cold and almost did not warm, but the snow was brightly reflected from its light, making it impossible to clearly see the object lying on the snowdrift ahead. My father was already approaching him, sinking almost to his waist. - Neighbor, help! - the shoemaker walked around me, and the men began to pull out a man in a strange long-skirted black dress. It immediately became clear that the person was not a local: no one would have dressed in such clothes in winter. Let it be clearly not summer, with long sleeves and high shoes and gloves, but the material itself... Such material did not save from frost. My father suddenly threw a man on his back, to which I just gasped: - Dad, your back... the stranger's long black hair hung down from his father's shoulder. A man, and such long hair? What for? That's right, it was a real stranger. In Adania, no normal man would grow his hair that long. Ridicule, mockery, shame - that's what would have awaited him in our world. Long hair was a woman's beauty and pride. Men could afford a maximum length of hair up to their shoulders. - Dad, can I call for help? - again I tried to reach out to my self-confident and very strong father, which he was now going to demonstrate to our whole community again. - It's not worth it... Let the neighbor... he'd better tell you... how it was... what he saw... how did you end up here... The stranger on his back only groaned faintly, and Oldat began to stumble: - So what's there to tell.. As you left me at night, Ayo, I couldn't sleep... I went for a walk... I chuckled: the whole village knew these walks to the miller's wife, who lived under the mountain, below, a little away from everyone, next to her mill. And Kaldia knew about them. Only she was in no hurry to leave the father of her children... - Well, uh... I see something blue on the horizon, under the mountain where the Gate is... Then it turned green. And then like a bang! I was scared at first, and then I decided to take a look... when everything went quiet... And he's lying down... and moans... It doesn't look like ours! - And you remember, daughter, remember... - my father looked at me expressively, and I nodded to him. What was there to remember? Blue, then green, and a sound like an explosion. This is how the Gates of our Ruler Ada worked. No one has opened them for several hundred years. We, the inhabitants of Adania, believed that this knowledge was lost. But no! Look at you! Someone was able to get through to us from the other side! However, it is unclear from where, from what world, and how... I didn't have any answers to these questions right now. One hope is that the stranger will wake up, and I will help him in this, and then... So, in my thoughts, I did not notice how I followed my father with his burden to my parents' house. Oldat was creaking his boots along the path behind me, telling himself something under his breath. I wasn't listening to him anymore…