Unlike the houses he had seen in the village, made of tree wood, this large palace was built from decorative stones, carefully stacked in an organized manner. Abu Bakr had never seen anything like it, not even in his kingdom, which he had always considered the most advanced. He wondered, "How could a place whose people fear the sea be capable of building a palace like this?"
They had reached the top of the mountain, and the boy had informed him that the hermit lived there. They advanced towards a massive gate, wide open, and passed through it, walking further into a vast courtyard. After a few more steps, they reached a smaller gate with an iron ball hanging in the middle. The boy moved the ball, making a sound that echoed through the door, signaling someone was inside. They waited for someone to open the door, but hours passed with no response. As night began to fall, the place felt completely deserted, and they were about to give up hope when, without warning, the door opened. A voice called out, "Come in."
Inside, the palace was even more breathtaking than its exterior. Light flooded every corner, so much so that it was difficult to find any shadow. They sat before the hermit, their eyes wandering around the room. The paintings on the walls, the strange chairs they had never seen before, everything seemed to belong to another time, another world. It felt as if they had traveled from their small village, where people believed monsters took their cattle at night, to a place far beyond their imagination. Abu Bakr was astonished, and a thousand questions swirled in his mind, none of which would have an easy answer.
The hermit's hoarse voice broke the silence. "What have you come for?"
His question pulled them back from their thoughts. The boy who had accompanied Abu Bakr spoke first, without hesitation. "I want to become a hermit," he said, continuing, "This moment has replayed in my mind many times. My thoughts have woven many answers you've given me. In one of them, you told me a hermit must come from the right family, that you became one after your father died, and that no one can suddenly become a hermit. But today, I ask two things: teach me to become a hermit, and I hope you won't refuse."
Abu Bakr remembered the boy's earlier advice to be clear in one's request, but the boy seemed to get lost in his words, speaking for a long time. The hermit didn't object, but turned his gaze to Abu Bakr, who met his eyes. It was clear the hermit knew Abu Bakr was not from the village.
"What are you here for?" the hermit asked.
A strange sensation washed over Abu Bakr, unlike anything he had felt before. Though he had met many kings and scholars, this man sitting before him felt beyond their reach. "I have come to learn the first language of the earth," Abu Bakr said. He didn't add anything more—he didn't speak of his long journey across great deserts, the endless ocean, the mysterious book in his bag, or his former life as a king. He realized these things didn't matter to the hermit. All that mattered was the reason he had come.
The hermit's face showed surprise, as though he had never heard such a request before. He didn't ask why Abu Bakr wanted to learn it, but simply stood up, moving toward the door. "We will start in the morning then," he said, and left the room.