The New Dominion

The following is a serial translation of Abdurehim Ötkür’s 1985 historical novel Oyghanghan Zemin, Chapter Two, pp. 52-54. New readers are encouraged to start from the beginning, Chapter One, Part One. This translation is presented for information and entertainment purposes only. New sections will be posted every Sunday, pending their completion and the satisfaction of the translator. It is also a work in progress - comments are welcome, especially on the (questionable) quality of the translation.

In Chapter Two, Part Five, the mysterious stranger Xojiniyaz was about to tell his story…

Chapter Three: “House Leopard”

“If not for the friendship of people, for what other purpose was the world created?”

- Abduraxman Jami

1

“Isn’t this young man the one who was in the notices from the General’s yamen?”

“You’re right, his thick eyebrows and round eyes, the whiteness of his face with his broad shoulders, hmm… It’s him.”

“I’d say you still haven’t observed his hands. Aren’t they longer than others’?”

“Right, right, they seemed that way to me, too. If he hadn’t said ‘I’m from Toqsun, my name’s Ishaq,’ he’d be the fugitive Xojiniyaz the notices talked about!”

“Alright, then what’ll we do? Do we say ‘I didn’t see anything at all!’ and get out of here, or…?”

Two young Kazakh men hobbled their horses in the black of night, in which nothing was discoverable, and talked in low voices. The mountain wind that gusted out of the east carried their words to the ears of Xojiniyaz Palwan, who sat, hiding, at the base of a great pine not five or ten steps away.

“Alright, so tell me, what’ll we do?” repeated one of the young men.

“I think it’s a lie that he’s Ishaq from Toqsun. Tomorrow morning, we’ll inform the bay, tie up his hands and feet, steer to the city, and turn him in at the yamen. If our luck is good and this is Xojiniyaz, we’ll get twelve ingots; if not, whatever. What do we have to lose?”

“In that case, may it be so. Come on, then, let’s get some shut-eye.”

After they had returned to their yurt twenty paces away, from the skylight of which a dim light could be seen, Xojiniyaz Palwan stood up and muttered, “Hey, thugs, your bad intentions will come back to you. Xojiniyaz Palwan won’t be taken alive!” He tore out a handful of grass and, chewed it, and began to spit.

“What do I have to do?” he thought, tearing up the ground just like an angered lion as he paced around in the darkness. A moment later, as though he had recalled something, he suddenly entered into clarity, and began to observe carefully the beaver-black dome of the sky. Sparse stars shone in the cloudless sky. His sharp eyes fixed on one of the points. This was the Iron Peg [Polaris]. “Ah, I’ve found it. In front of me is the shaded side, behind me is the sunny side, on my right-hand side is sunrise, and on my left-hand side is sunset. The further I walk towards sunset, the further I get from Qumul,” he said, deciding in his own mind. Then, going over to the horses that stood grazing, he took the hobbles off a familiar chestnut brown horse with a white dot on its head and hastily saddled it. He found the saddles that sat in front of the young men’s yurt, cut the stirrups[?] from both, and threw them far away. Making use of the nighttime darkness, just as he retrieved his fur coat from the tiny hut-like tent in front of the sheep pen, he tossed a piece of barley bread to the white-necked dog who was following him, mounted his chestnut brown horse with a white dot on its forehead, and, getting on the road, said, “Goodbye, Alipbay, I hope you’re happy with me. I’ve left my mare and ridden off on one of your horses. If I reach my destination safely, I will certainly return it.”

Read on in Chapter Three, Part Two!