It is rather difficult to describe their external appearance. They are of short stature, fluffy like cats, minus the whiskers, somewhat like bears, or rather cubs. They have large rounded ears, like those of mice; but in contrast to them, they do not have long tails, or any other kind of tail for that matter. As for the city itself, it is much more difficult to describe. And yet…
Imagine a field carpeted with lush grass and various multi-coloured flowers. If one sat on the ground, warmed by the sun’s rays, it was possible to see in the distance a mountain range rising up to the very sky. And quite nearby, a meandering river flowing between the hills, irrigating the land, and leading to a small city. The city was surrounded by fields of golden spikelets of sungrass. Industrious farmers worked adroitly in the fields from the crack of dawn. And once one reached the very heart of the city, its main square, it was impossible to miss the mighty Sturdy Tree right at its centre, in whose cool shade sat one of the elders. This was the grey and wise Sharmuzik who told cautionary tales to younger generations. Everyone, down to the city’s smallest inhabitants, always hung on his words.
As one stood on the main square, it was difficult to miss the thin smoke rising from behind the houses. To find out where it was coming from, all one had to do was walk a little further along the road, past the Town Hall, behind which stood a two-story brick building with a green roof. That was the Shmurite Bakery. It was from its oven that smoke continuously drifted upwards. At that very moment, its door opened, and one of the townspeople emerged with a fresh loaf of bread. Peeping inside, one would find Barti, the talented baker, hard at work, sliding dough into the oven. The shelves held many different buns and rolls, both sweet and savoury. There was also a big cake with a ribbon of red icing placed on a wooden stand, as if on a pedestal, patiently awaiting the moment it would be placed on the festive table as the centrepiece delight.
The morning sun, whose rays were coming through the window, made all the bread on the shelves shine like pure gold. Every passer-by could not help but stop, even if for a moment, to take a look at actual works of pastry art.
If one came out of the bakery into the street, they would see the newspaper building where Archi the local correspondent worked. He issued his weekly The Shmurite Herald, in which he actively criticised the mayor’s work, as well as reported the latest news of the week. Further on, not far from the river, there was a workshop that was known all over town. The two talented brothers Lumi and Renchi worked there. They could build or repair anything with no trouble. There were shelves inside their workshop with spare parts, sorted by use and size. There were also several different machines and two tables with designs and various notes with calculations. Hanging on the wall, there were essential tools of different shapes, sizes and uses, which always came in handy in making different devices and machines.
Once one left the workshop and crossed the small bridge to the other bank of the river, one could visit the library housing a collection of all kinds of books, from old ones with worn covers to recent works in new covers, with fictional stories and real scientific studies. Speaking of research, the observatory nearby where Habl worked is worth mentioning. Every night he observed the stars through a telescope, which was built by the aforementioned talented masters. Habl studied the neighbouring planet and dreamt of one day visiting it and meeting its inhabitants…
There were many interesting places in Shmur. For example, the herbalist’s house, where decoctions that could cure of any disease were prepared. A fish market with auctions, where fish was sold to the highest bidder due to a shortage of fish. And the Shmur Market, where one could find fresh fruits and vegetables, which, on the other hand, were plentiful.
That was how Shmur looked like. A city that was not very large, yet not small in the slightest either. The Sharmuziks almost never went beyond its bounds. There were a few things that terrified them. They were afraid of heights, darkness and rain. But most of all, they were afraid of going beyond the Great Glade. Thus it was in the past, thus it is today… will it remain so forever?
Part 2. A Strange Find
That evening, like every other evening, Nolton made himself a cup of tea with a side of strawberry jam, sat down in his favourite armchair and picked the book that was on the table next to him. But after glancing at it, he remembered that he had already read it the evening before. The Sharmuzik got up and walked to a shelf. He placed the book there, and began looking for another one, one that he had not yet read. Having checked all the shelves, several boxes, the cabinet and even under his bed, the Sharmuzik could not find a single new book for his evening read. Returning to the living room, he saw the cup of tea he had brewed for himself with steam rising from it. Scratching his head, he walked up to the window, pondering where he would be able to find a new book before the tea completely cooled down. On the other bank, beyond the river, which divided the city into two parts, one could see from Nolton’s house the building housing the library. Nolton noticed that the lights were still on in its windows and it immediately dawned on him. He ran out into the street, throwing on his coat and scarf in haste. He dashed across the bridge and, once outside the library, he pulled its rather large and heavy door. As he walked into the building, Nolton immediately headed towards the nearest shelf and started to look for a new book. Thus, the city library had by far more books than one could find at home. But Nolton liked certain types of books, about adventures and expeditions. Moving through several shelves, he came to the one in the furthermost corner. Finally, the Sharmuzik found what he had come for. The whole shelf had adventure books. Nolton decided not to waste time and picked the one closest to him. He was about to go back home but he suddenly stopped. His attention was drawn to a notebook that was just behind the book he had picked. Taking out the notebook, Nolton examined it up close. The notebook was bound in brown leather and closed with a silver buckle that had the initials KF inscribed. On its first page, the Sharmuzik saw a neatly hand-written epigraph: “My diary, or chronicles of a faraway journey”. Flipping to the next page, Nolton saw the map of the Great Glade tucked inside the notebook. The Sharmuzik unfolded it fully. He was genuinely taken aback by the image he saw on the map. This turned an ordinary evening into the beginning of a new story. Leaving the book for which he had left his tea, the Sharmuzik quickly put the map back inside the notebook and ran back to his house with it in his hand.
Once at home, Nolton sat down at his desk right away and directed his lamp so that it fully illuminated the map. This was a map larger than any the Sharmuzik had seen before. Its paper had yellowed of old age. The mysterious things that were depicted on it gave rise to many interesting questions. Certain inscriptions that could have at least provided some answers could not be made out. As if it was not enough that the map was in poor shape, a large portion of it was torn out. The only thing that could be made out was several houses with an inscription above them: Shmur. A dotted line ran from the city’s name to a completely different city. To better examine the inscription, Nolton took out a special device, similar to a stick with magnifying glasses of different sizes attached to it. This allowed him to make out the almost illegible inscription above the city: T u l u n.
***
A light breeze drifted through the half-open window, occasionally flipping the pages in the open notebook. The warm rays of the morning sun enveloped Nolton who was sound asleep, sitting at the desk. And so, the hands of the small clock on the stool pointed to nine o’clock. There was half a sun on the clock dial instead of numbers. It started to ring loudly and persistently, and immediately woke Nolton, who, having been carried away by reading the diary, had fallen asleep at his desk. The sleepy Sharmuzik reached for the clock, trying to turn it off. But he could not reach it and fell to the floor along with the chair. The ringing clock was joined in by another ring, this time at the door, announcing the arrival of visitors. Without waiting for the master of the house, the visitors politely knocked on the door, opened it themselves and came inside. There was clapping and celebratory whistles. There were Lumi, Renchi and Archi at the door with wooden boxes of different shapes with colourful ribbons, while Barti was holding a birthday cake, which also boasted a red ribbon made of icing.
“Where’s Nolton? Did we get the day wrong?” asked Barti, not seeing the master of the house.
Nolton got up and looked at his