Atondido Stories
"You carried him when he was alive," she said. "Take him
now that he's dead—I don't care where."
Tatosh rose on the wind and flew home to St. Nedyelka.
The old wise woman who knew already what had happened
was waiting for him. She took the pieces of the body from the
bundle and washed them in the Water of Death. Then she ar-
ranged them piece by piece as they should be and they grew to-
gether until the wounds disappeared and there were not even
any scars left. After that she sprinkled the body with the Water
of Life and, lo, life returned to Vitazko and he stood up, well and
healthy.
"Ah," he said, rubbing his eyes, "I've been asleep, haven't I?"
"Yes," Nedyelka said, "and but for me you would never have
wakened. How do you feel, my son?"
"All right," Vitazko said, "except a little strange as if I had no
heart."
"You have none," Nedyelka told him. "Your heart hangs by a
string from a crossbeam in the castle."
She told him what had befallen him, how his mother had be-
trayed him and how Sharkan had cut him to pieces.
Vitazko listened but he could feel neither surprise nor grief
nor anger nor anything, for how could he feel since he had no
heart?
"You need your heart, my son," Nedyelka said. "You must go
after it."
She disguised him as an old village piper and give him a pair
of bagpipes.
"Go to the castle," she told him, "and play on these pipes.
When they offer to reward you, ask for the heart that hangs by a
string from the ceiling."
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