013 -- Andrew Leaves Home

Andrew stood at the foot of the pier in Kumar, suitcase and knapsack in hand. He'd been walking most of the morning, wandering up and down the waterfront in search of the Lydia. She was a brig registered out of Cimbria, a frequent runner of the coastal trade route, and had been hidden away at the far Eastern edge of the docks. Sarani's brother, Uncle Hamid, had recommended the brig's captain as a trustworthy man.

---

". . . since you've only got so much money to work with -- especially if books are going to cost as much as they're saying they will."

It was a few weeks before Andrew was to leave Kashi. Uncle Hamid had joined them earlier for dinner and had his feet planted on the table, his chair tilted back against the kitchen wall. The single lantern hanging from the ceiling threw a smoky shadow under his unorthodox posture. He was smoking a pipe, a practice that Andrew's mother detested but which she had been unsuccessful in driving from her older brother. The woody scent permeated the small house.

"I've no problem taking the boy as far as Kumar -- I'm headed that way by the end of the month anyway. The storms should let up soon, meaning this is the best time of the year to get your stuff moved by sea. With any luck I'll be able to pick up some of the heavier, metal stock -- you know, anvils, plows, that sort of junk -- for real cheap. Should turn a good bit a' cash by the time the year is out."

He took another long, satisfied draw on the pipe. The faint clunk of the pump handle signaled that Sati was outside, cleaning the dishes in the half-light of dusk.

"So yeah. Sarani, I've got no problems taking the boy. But I can't go with him any further than Kashi. My normal route ends there."

I hate it when they talk about me like I'm not even here.

"What I can do, though, is get him pointed in the right direction. Make sure that he's with someone he can trust, at least most of the way. Once he's in Cimbria he can take the train, and that's easy."

"Are you sure Hamid? Couldn't you go with him at least to Cimbria? It seems like such a long way for him travel by himself . . ."

Right here, people. I'm right here.

"Sarani, when I put him on the boat at Kumar, I may as well be going with him to Cimbria. I know all of the trader captains who go up and down the coast, I'll give them very exact instructions. Believe me, they know that if any harm comes to the boy, they'll have to answer to me."

Andrew didn't think that his uncle Hamid would prove much of a threat to anyone, much less the captain of a ship who was ruthless enough to harm his own passengers. Hamid always reminded him of a fat man not quite rich enough to maintain his girth. Even at his best, Andrew's uncle was a mediocre businessman and nearly worthless caretaker . . . regular "loans" from Sarani were the only thing keeping his business afloat. Andrew still remembered the last time Uncle Hamid had been in charge of watching him and his sister. They had lost Sati for almost two days.

"I'm glad to hear it, but I'm still nervous. There's no other way to get to the Academy?"

Uncle Hamid laughed. "Well, of course there are! There are all sorts of ways to get to the city. If money was no object, you could take an airship straight from Kumar to the center of Oberon and be there in three days. It'd cost ya more than I make in a year, though . . ." he laughed again. "Believe me, I been traveling all sorts of different ways, and this is the best way to do it for what you've got to spend."

I guess you're right . . . are you sure that he'll be able to figure it all out on his own? The train, and finding his way in the city, and everything like that?"

Thanks for the vote of confidence, mom.

"Oh, he'll have no problem with that. If I can figure it out, he'll do just fine. Besides, I'll teach him everything I know on the way to Kumar."

"Oh, would you do that, Hamid? I would feel so much better. He's never been outside of Kashi, I don't know what's waiting out there for him but I know enough to say that it isn't all friendly."

Hamid laughed again. It was beginning to annoy Andrew -- his laugh was too easily provoked, ripe almost to bursting with forced jollity.

"Oh, he'll be fine. School's likely to be the hardest part, right, boy?" Uncle Hamid removed his legs from the table and came down on all four legs of his chair with a loud thump so as to clap his nephew heartily on the back. Andrew changed his mind -- he would rather be unnoticed than to have any more of his uncle's affection bestowed upon him.

His mother laughed this time, a light musical laugh that Andrew did not hear often. "Actually, Andrew is there on scholarship." She laid an exultant accent on the last word, something that she'd been doing ever since she found out about the Academy's decision -- particularly around the other mothers of Kashi. "Aajay will probably be one of the brightest students there."

"Well I'm glad he got something from his uncle!"

Sarani laughed again at this. Uncle Hamid joined in, before turning and fixing Andrew with a gaze that was surprisingly intense. "He's quite a smart boy. We've all known it for years, watching him grow up . . ." Andrew had never seen his Uncle's eyes lit this way before. ". . . haven't we, Sarani?"

And just as suddenly as it had come, the burst of clarity passed from his uncle. He looked away from Andrew, eyes dull and lifeless. It had been so quick that Andrew was not even sure it had happened.

---

The Lydia was the only ship at this end of the docks. The pier was old and warped, creaking dangerously underfoot. A single spindly wooden crane was being used to unload large casks from the ship while a handful of men struggling gamely with the wooden block and tackle. Andrew liked the look of the Lydia -- in contrast to many of the more ornate vessels he had passed earlier, there was no figurehead under the bowsprit, just a simple five pointed star burned into the weathered timber. Lines were coiled neatly on deck, crisscrossing over the folded bulk of a sail being repaired. A low hum of conversation came from the tidy ship, calm and unhurried as the sailors worked at their jobs.

As Andrew approached the gang-plank, a sailor hailed him. "Oy there, you lookin' for somone?"

"Yeah, is captain Toggart around?"

---

Later that week, Andrew was in Kashi running another errand. Knowing that he was about to leave her for the next several years, Sarani seemed determined to prove her affection for Andrew by making him do as much work around the house and in town as possible. He didn't mind, though -- most of the errands were linked to his preparations for school, and as much an annoyance as they were, each one reminded him that soon he'd be leaving.

Almost every day he was finding himself with a new shirt, coat, stockings or other bit of Cimbrian-style clothing. Andrew knew that from the money his mother was spending she was recouping on her "investments" in Uncle Hamid's caravan business. This also explained the sudden drop in frequency of his visits . . .

Today's trip was not for Andrew, though -- he had been sent into town to fetch oranges, an item that had no relevance to his departure at all. He had just bought a half dozen when he heard the chanting.

They sounded like children, singing a looping sort of song that probably had dirty lyrics substituted for the usual words. He emerged from under the fruit stand's canopy back into the blazing sun and the song became clearer. Yep, definitely not a polite song. Do I remember that one? He turned to trudge home, bare feet stirring up hot dust from the street -- before realizing that he could hear someone screaming. A very familiar someone.

Stopping, he looked at the other people in the street. Customers and vendors, Cimbrian and Tel, stared back at him with blank faces from under their canopies. It was obvious now that a gang of children was tormenting someone, but no one moved from the shade.

Shit.

He turned and ran back to the fruit seller. "Hold these," he said, not giving the man a chance to respond as he thrust the oranges into his arms. Andrew sprinted back into the sun, racing down the street in the direction of the yelling.

". . . darkie, darkie, skin as brown as mud! Kick her in the shins and see her dirty blood!" a group of Cimbrian girls in school uniforms were chanting, standing in a circle around someone who Andrew was afraid he recognized. The girl being taunted was screaming obscenities at the top of her lungs, wielding them like a weapon to keep the circle at a safe distance. Still running, Andrew saw one of the girls get behind her and deliver a swift kick in the back. A great shout went up and the group closed in . . .

Sati took the unexpected attack well, though, and managed to stay upright. A particularly violent threat (Andrew's heart swelled with pride as he recognized it as an oath he had taught her) pushed the circle back at least temporarily. "Hey! HEY! STOP!" Andrew was screaming at the top of his lungs as he came up to the circle of girls.

Their heads swiveled almost in unison to stare at him as the chanting stopped. Andrew looked first to his sister to make sure she was okay. Besides a few scrapes and bruises she seemed to be okay, but Andrew was startled by the look of black hatred that she shot him. I'm here to help, why is she angry at me?

A few of the girls started to pull back, but the circle did not scatter. This surprised Andrew, because they were all several years younger than him, and at least a head shorter. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Another moment of hesitation -- and then one girl stepped towards him. Shorter even then the others, her round face was curled in a sneer of hatred. In a moment of surreal clarity, Andrew admired the floral pattern on the ribbon in her hair. It was quite pretty and obviously quite expensive.

"Fuck you, fucking darkie!" Andrew almost wanted to laugh, the racial slur sounded so ridiculous in her high-pitched squeal. He saw her begin to rear back, about to spit on him.

He hit her just as she had begun to exhale. Andrew was not particularly strong, but he outweighed the schoolgirl by at least fifteen kilograms. Her eyes opened in shock as his fist connected with her cheekbone, and shower of saliva sprayed over both of them from her open mouth as she went down. Andrew didn't give the girl a chance to get up, but kicked her twice in the stomach before stomping with his bare foot on her chest. He looked at the girl lying on the ground for a second before swiftly kicking her once more in the side of the head.

The circle of schoolgirls was staring at them open mouthed, frozen in shock. The girl on the ground was screaming -- a much more shrill, wordless, hacking scream than his sister. Andrew decided to make sure the message had been totally clear. "Don't you FUCK with her again." His voice cracked in the middle of the phrase, diluting its menace somewhat, but the circle of schoolgirls scattered leaving their ringleader screaming in the dirt.

Andrew looked around for Sati. She was standing behind him now, a look of searing hatred still etched on her face. This was still puzzling, but he didn't have time to deal with it right now. A Tel girl screaming might not attract any attention, but the Cimbrian girl's screams were sure to cause trouble.

"Come on! Let's go!"

Sati didn't move.

"Sati! We've got to get out of here. Come on!"

She still stared at him. Andrew gave up, grabbed her arm and started running, half dragging her behind him.

He ran aimlessly, just trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the scene of the fight. Several side streets, a deserted lot, and one alley later, Andrew pulled up behind a warehouse, winded. He was glad Sati had followed him; now he had time to make sure she was unhurt.

"Hey, are you okay? They were -- argh!"

Andrew's sister was attacking him, pummeling his body with her smaller fists as hard as she could. "What?!? Stop it! Sati! Stop!" He managed to wrestle her down to the ground, pinning her arms back only with some difficulty. She was still glaring at him. "What is wrong with you?!?"

Finally she spoke, yelling back up into his face. "I could have handled that! Why did you have to come ruin it?"

"Sati, there were at least six or seven of them. They weren't just going to let you go! You were gonna be the one on the ground getting kicked."

"Why do you keep ruining my life?!? You steal everything! It's not fair!"

"What are you talking about?!?"

"Everyone likes you better! Andrew this, Andrew that . . . even the teachers like you! Well, I don't! I HATE you! I hate--"

Sati broke into violent sobs in mid-sentence, her body ceasing its struggle against Andrew's weight. He let her arms go, and watched her cry for a second unsure of what to do. Finally he helped her sit up, wrapping one of his arms around her bony shoulders. Sati's tears immediately soaked through his shirt, but he let her cry.

After a few minutes, Sati's wracking sobs subsided. Andrew didn't rush her, but instead let his sister pull away first. Still sniffling a little, she rubbed her eyes on her sleeves before speaking.

"I'm sorry. Thanks."

"Don't worry about it."

She looked at his sodden shoulder. "And sorry about your shirt."

"It's okay. We should keep moving, though . . . I don't think I want to be in town for the next few days after her parents find out." Andrew got to his feet, followed shortly by his sister, and began walking back down the alley.

"Where are we going?"

"You know that island? By the house?"

"Yeah." A pause. "Is that where you go when you go out walking? I've never been able to figure it out."

"Yeah."

They were now back out on the street, walking as casually as they could. Even with Sati's red eyes and Andrew's shoulder they got very few looks from anyone passing by. Most Cimbrians tried to act as if the Tel youth didn't exist, and right now Andrew was glad for it.

"Why did you hit her?" Sati asked after a few blocks of silence between them.

Andrew thought for a moment before replying with the obvious. "She's dangerous. They were going to beat you senseless."

"Not after you showed up. They were gonna leave."

"I'm not so sure. They didn't back down. That one girl was about to spit on me." Sati looked at her older brother. "I don't like getting spit on."

"You didn't have to hit her. And you definitely didn't have to kick her."

"Sati, that situation could have gone one of two ways. Either I broke their will to fight right there, or we were both coming out of that with broken bones." Sati looked skeptical, but Andrew continued. "That's why I went after the ringleader -- break her, and you destroy the group. She's the reason that they didn't run when I showed up."

"You still didn't need to kick her after she went down."

"You would just be having this fight over and over again every day until somebody ended up like that girl. Why prolong things? I had the opportunity to end it there and I did."

Sati was looking forward again. They continued along the road to the river in silence for several minutes before she spoke up. "Do you think she's okay?"

"Yeah. I might've broken her rib."

"Dammit, Jata, this is why I hate you. I can't even have a fucking fight to myself, you've gotta step in and take it all. You know that they hate me because of you?"

"What? Why?"

"You're too good. The teachers like you. Their parents would like you if you weren't brown. You beat their brothers and sisters for that scholarship . . . and guess who they take it out on? I can't even do anything to piss them off myself -- you stole all that, too."

Andrew had never considered this before. They kept walking.

"Sorry?" Andrew's apology sounded lame and he knew it.

"Shut up, Jata. Or Andrew. Or whatever the hell it is you go by these days. Why do you do that, anyway?"

"What?"

"Why do you use your Cimbrian name so much? You know they just assign them randomly when we start school, right?"

"Yeah, I know. Maybe I happen to like mine."

"Bullshit. After everything Cimbria has done to the Tel? Are you telling me that--"

Andrew cut her off. "It opens doors for me. A name like Ajatashatru is not going to get you very far. Do you think they would've accepted me to the academy under that name? Would the teachers ever give a passing grade to Ajatashatru? Not a chance in hell."

"Jata, it's like being one of them. It's like giving up who you are just so that--"

"Sati! We are one of them, remember? Mom is Tel but our dad definitely wasn't. It's not like I'm pretending--"

"Ha, fat lot of good that old dad's been doing us lately. Jata, we are not one of them. Take a look around -- the schools say we aren't, the government says we aren't, the church says we aren't, everybody! Those girls know we're not Cimbrian. Our dad might be a whitey but we're Tel and there's not a damn thing we can do about it."

Andrew frowned. He knew his sister was right, and kept walking in silence. They had almost reached gap in the riverbank where Andrew liked to cross to the island before he spoke again. "I'm weak when I use my Tel name."

"Sorry?"

"Ajatashatru. It's weaker than Andrew. If I'm Andrew I can do whatever I want. I can go to Oberon and to the academy, -- people respect me. I can change things. But if I'm Ajatashatru . . . I'm Tel. And Tel are weak."

"Weak? We're not weak!"

"Really? Sati, maybe YOU need to look around. Look at what Cimbria has done to the Tel. They came to take our country, and we couldn't even fight back! We didn't do anything to stop them!"

"There was the battle at Chirpa."

"Yeah, THAT went well -- and that was fifty years ago! What have we done since then?!?"

"Nothing, I know. And now instead of trying to change that you've adopted a Cimbrian name and are going to go study in Oberon at the academy. What, have you given up on us too?"

Andrew sighed. "Sati, if there was going to be a rebellion or a revolution or something, it would've happened already. We're going to their schools, we're being tried in their courts, we're serving in their military -- there's not going to be a Tel uprising, at least not here. There probably won't even be a Tel culture in another fifty years at the rate we're naturalizing. We'll all be living in those horrible brick houses and wearing those hot overcoats."

Sati was glaring at him again. "So what, Jata? You're just going to try and become a Cimbrian? We may stop being Tel but we'll never be accepted -- you know that."

Andrew glared back at her. "I never said that I was going to become a Cimbrian. Just because they won doesn't mean they aren't despicable. What it does mean, though, is that if I'm going to change anything I have to go learn from them. And that's why I'm Andrew."

Sati ducked under a low hanging branch. They were off the trail now, cutting through the underbrush towards the riverbank. "Does anyone else our age talk like this? Is this where we cross the river?"

---

Captain Toggart was surveying the loading process from the Lydia's small quarterdeck, an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth. He removed it briefly to greet Andrew before barking a brief order to the crew below. Andrew took the opportunity to take stock of the captain of the Lydia. He was an older man who would easily escape notice in a crowd if it were not for his large, bushy grey eyebrows. They came right down to the rims of his small, circular glasses and made his roughly shaven chin look practically clean by comparison.

"A' got Hamid's letter just t'other day. You an' the cabin boy'll be sharin' a hammock in the fo'c'sle. E's for'ard, jus' ask for Danny."

Andrew just nodded -- he was only reasonably sure that he'd understood the man, and he didn't really know what a fo'c'sle was. Captain Toggart smiled a tight, thin-lipped smile and gestured vaguely towards the bow of the ship. Andrew took this to mean he was dismissed and wandered back down to the deck, trying to look like he knew where he was going.

As he climbed back down the ladder onto the deck, a thin arm grabbed him. Andrew, startled at the sudden contact, turned to find a boy about his height but a few years younger grinning carelessly at him. "Ey, you're the passenger, right?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"I'm Danny. Cap'n Toggart always pretends like we've a bigger ship 'n we do, but really we hears everything ev'rbody says from about wherever you're at. Never been on a ship, huh?"

"Was it that easy to spot?"

Danny just laughed. "Nothin' t'be worried 'bout. C'mon, I'll shew you where we're at." And with this the gangly youth ran lightly forward and plunged through the open forward gangway.

Andrew made his own, slower way forward to the hatch, lowering himself, suitcase, and knapsack down the narrow ladder with some difficulty. He found himself half-stooping in a dim, cramped space that smelled of old wood, lantern oil, and sweat. Empty canvas hammocks were strung from the bulkheads on either side of him. After a moment of letting his eyes adjust, Andrew found Danny patiently waiting for him at the narrowest end of the cabin.

"On a bigger ship, I'd be bunked astern, but Lydia, she's not so big. Also, I'm not really a cabin boy, so t'all works out. We're all the way for'rard, right against the cable locker." He thumped the forward bulkhead with his hand, emphasizing the anchor cable contained behind it.

Andrew looked at the single hammock. "So we trade off? I sleep when you don't, and you sleep when I don't?"

"Yup." Danny grinned again. "Nice ta' see one who picks up quick. I'll stash your gear below." And before Andrew could protest, Danny had disappeared into the hold with his bags.

Alone in the cabin, Andrew found himself at a loss for what to do. He didn't want to get in the way on deck, but there was nothing in Kumar for him to go back for. Sighing, he turned to the hammock.

Might as well learn how to get in this thing without anyone around to laugh at me.

It only took him a few tries before he found himself hanging in comparative comfort from the thick wooden beams above him.

---

"So what are you going to do for the next couple days?"

Sati and Andrew were lying up on the tall rock at the center of the island, gradually drying off in the sun from their short swim.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you can't very well be seen around town. You just beat up a white girl. I imagine we'll have the prefect at our house by the time I get back. He might lock you up, and you'd miss your ship in Kumar. Not to mention every one of those girls' older brothers will be looking for you, and they might just kill you."

"Hmm." Andrew hadn't thought of this when he'd hit the girl. "Do you think they would actually put me in jail?"

"Weren't you just the one telling me to take these things seriously? I think you'd be lucky if the prefect found you first."

Andrew's stomach turned over uneasily. Things had just gotten even more complicated.

"I suppose I could just stay here. No one else knows about the island except you."

"What will you eat? Where will you sleep?"

"I'm not sure. There's a little cave at the bottom of this rock I could probably stay in."

"That'll be pretty cold tonight."

"I'm not sure what other options I have, if I have to stay hidden until Uncle Hamid and I leave."

They laid in silence for a few moments, Andrew contemplating the upcoming days of hunger he would have to endure.

"Here's what we'll do." Sati sat up. "I'll go home and tell mom what's happened. She can talk to Uncle Hamid and arrange for a different meeting spot."

"But how will I find out about it? You can't really come back here, as soon as you go home they'll be watching you."

"Tonight I'll put some food, a blanket, and your suitcase in the skiff, and then push it into the river. It should drift by and you can swim out and grab it. That way even if someone is following me they can't figure out where you are. I'll leave a note telling you where to meet Uncle Hamid."

Andrew thought through the plan. "As long as they don't have a boat with them, it should work."

"Yeah. If they do, I'll figure something else out. Jata, I had better get going -- who knows what is going on back home."

Andrew's sister moved to scale back down the rock.

"Sati . . . wait!"

She turned back to look at him. "What?"

"Are you gonna tell them?"

"Tell them what?"

"The test."

She looked away before heaving a frustrated sigh. "No, Jata, I'm not."

"Why not?" Andrew blurted, surprising himself with this question.

"Jata, I don't like you very much sometimes -- or even most of the time. But I hate the Cimbrians, and you're my brother."

"Thanks."

"For not telling them you cheated?"

"And for the food."

"You haven't got it yet, I could still change my mind." And Sati slid down the rock and was gone. "Hey! Can I borrow your island while you're gone?" she yelled up from below.

"Sure!" he yelled back. He listened to his sister run lightly through the woods. Gradually the sound faded away until he was alone.

---

Andrew gradually swam back to consciousness, his thoughts groggy and incoherent at first.

Why am I moving? Why is the hammock moving?

The cabin was awash with sounds that he had not heard before. The bulkheads were creaking on either side of him in rhythm with the gentle swing of his hammock. Finally the crash of a wave breaking against the Lydia's bows brought him fully awake. We're at sea!

Climbing out of his hammock as quickly and carefully as possible, Andrew hurried up the forward gangway onto deck. The Lydia had just rounded the point outside of Kumar's harbor and was gamely breaking through the tall ocean swell. The rigging hummed quietly in the stiff breeze that crossed the deck.

"Ha! Tole 'ya the first breaker'd wake 'im right up!" one of the sailors laughed good-naturedly.

Andrew took a deep breath of ocean air and smiled. The salty breeze smelled good to him.

Danny came up from behind him. "'S a good feeling, eh? If yer gonna look back, now's the time -- you'll not be seein' Tel for a good bit a' time, from what I hear."

Andrew looked back. Kumar was quickly disappearing behind the rocky point that formed its natural breakwater. "That's okay. Somehow I don't think I'll miss it."

012 -- Rufus on the Road

Rufus spent seven days on the train. The locomotive's progress through the dry, rocky landscape was slow and fraught with petty delays -- herds of cattle blocked the tracks, a broken axle require the abandonment of one of the wagons, and a jammed switching mechanism had to be pried open. Living off food stolen from the other passengers, Rufus didn't mind -- he was on no schedule but his own.

In fact, he found considerable enjoyment in the landscape passing by him. By night the desert was brilliantly lit by the full moon -- rocky bluffs and distant horizon painted silver and blue until they reminded him of being on a ship at sea. Only the dull yellow shadow cast by lamp-lit carriage windows plodding across the sand did anything to shatter the illusion. The heavy rhythmic clatter of the train gradually faded into the background, leaving a deafening quiet that he did nothing to disturb.

By day, the desert was heavy with scorching heat, a stone oven of massive proportions. Rufus usually spent the days riding in the undercarriage of the train a few cars back among the freight. It was cooler there, with a slight breeze and good shade -- so long as he didn't slip and get chewed to pieces by the roadbed racing by a scant meter beneath him. Rufus could feel his sense of time stretching as the kilometers passed, entire days of travel slipping by almost as a dream. He spent most of his time sleeping.

At dawn on the eighth day the tracks turned Southwest and began their descent to the river, leaving the rocky flatlands and blowing sand behind. Instead, the air began to become humid and moist, the sweet hot scent of summer grass wafting up under the freight wagon where Rufus was hanging. Rolling green hills and patches of forest sprang seemingly out of nowhere. After being in the desert for more than a week, the sudden plant life was like an explosion of green. Rufus began seeing farms, windmills, and the occasional town. With additional population came additional danger, and it was getting harder for him to sneak on and off the train. Finally, as the train rounded a gentle curve, Rufus spotted what looked like a soft embankment next to the tracks. Timing it carefully, he lept away from the undercarriage of the rearmost wagon, hitting the dirt and rolling into the tall grass. After waiting for a few moments to make sure he hadn't been spotted, he stood and brushed himself off.

Not bad. That cut some time off of the trip. I should take the train more often.

Hopping over the drainage ditch, he scrambled up the embankment. A pair of ruts worn in the dirt constituted a little-used rural road. As the rumble of the locomotive faded, Rufus found himself having to readjust his ears. One by one sounds began to fade back in -- the drone of the cicadas, the birds arguing in a nearby tree, and the wind rustling the grass. Reorienting himself, he set off downhill, following the direction of the railroad tracks.

Rufus walked for the rest of the day, whistling a collection of songs he had learned over the years. He started with an old love song from Escobar. "Your eyes like the moon, your face I adore . . ." Tweet, tweet, twooooooooeet -- Rufus warbled the last note indulgently. The weather was beautiful -- it was high summer in Asfar, and the brilliant blue sky was dotted with lazy clouds. A slight breeze kept his forehead cool, even though he was starting to sweat in the thick humidity.

Rufus' path took him through meadows, between wheat fields, and through small clusters of forest. Even though he was no longer in the desert, the trees were still tall and wispy, favoring stiff green shoots instead of the rich foliage that trees further downriver were known for. They clustered around natural springs and any source of water, a reminder that he was still only barely in the habitable zone.

Rufus' lanky frame covered the distance quickly. Finally he came across a small house just off of the road and stopped to ask directions. The inhabitants of the clay hut told him that yes, he was heading the right way, and that once he got to the river he could easily find passage on a barge to the City. Rufus thanked them and continued on his way, this time starting up with an old Tel song without any words about a mountain spring. Tweet-oo-tweet, tweet-oo-tweeee . . .

By late afternoon, Rufus had finally come to the river. The river had no name -- most called it the "Kabir" but in Jos that meant merely "river." The road he was following dropped steeply the last few meters to the water's edge and then abruptly turned to Rufus' left, following the contour of the bank. This close to the water the trees were much taller and closer together, adding a green leafy ceiling to the path. In any space not taken up by trees, the tall grass continued to grow thickly -- even between the twin ruts of packed earth. Rufus slipped through the narrow band of undergrowth to the river, kneeling to cup the water in his hands.

Refreshed, he stood up again and looked out over the water. The river was wide at this point, having already traveled several hundreds of kilometers from its headwaters to the West of Ammat. The water was dark blue and shimmering brightly in the late-afternoon sun, and Rufus had to shield his eyes with one hand against the glare. Almost two hundred meters away the other bank rose, also covered in green undergrowth all the way out to the water. Over the treetops Rufus could see the faint outline of the Jehara Mountains, a series of jagged peaks that were coming into greater focus as the sun grew closer to the horizon.

Rufus' stomach rumbled. He frowned . . . it had been most of a day now since he had stolen food from the passengers on the train. Rufus usually ate very little, and he knew he could go several more days without much of a problem, but why be hungry when there was no need to be? A few steps farther down the path he found what he was looking for -- a short, squat tree with large, lazy fronds that bore a number of green fruits. He forgot what the Asfar called them, but in Cimbria they were known as bananas. Shimmying up the tree was the work of an instant, and soon Rufus had devoured several of the things. They were stiff and fibrous, with a bitter sort of taste -- not quite ripe yet, he decided, but close enough.

Secure in his perch, he watched the day wind down. He could've continued down the road to a town, but what he had in mind would be easier with less people around to complicate things. Darkness fell quickly once the sun was behind the mountains, clearly visible now as a jagged black edge against the red sun. Slowly the cicadas quieted, leaving a new round of sounds to take their place -- the squeak of bats, the croak of bullfrogs in the marshy lowland, and a muffled growl from something large that splashed into the river shortly afterward. Rufus made a note to be wary of that particular creature.

Finally the fireflies came out. Their gentle illumination of the forest below him reminded Rufus of the twinkling stars above. It also reminded him that the word for firefly in Josite translated slightly differently, to "starfly" or something like that. There was no moon yet, which was good because he was hoping that--

Ah yes, there it is.

From upriver came a faint human voice. They was singing a chanting, looping sort of song in a fine baritone that carried easily over the water. It had no clear ending or beginning, but repeated itself every few minutes. As Rufus listened the voice grew louder, but still he could see nothing. The man must have lungs of iron. He couldn't speak enough Endite to be sure, but he could pick out the word "river" several times, along with something about the night and . . . ghosts?

Finally a lantern came into view, attached to a shape blacker than the surrounding water and coasting slowly downstream. The singer was standing near the lantern, repeating his night song again -- a warning as much for other boats as for spirits of the dead. Rufus knew that Endite boatmen would keep this up all night when sailing on the river. If there had been more than one barge, each barge would have a singer to keep the convoy together -- but no, there must be only one tonight.

Rufus slid down the tree and cut through the underbrush back to the riverbank. After a few minutes searching, he found what he was looking for -- a long piece of driftwood, washed above the high water mark by a flood months ago. He slid into the water quickly and quietly (remembering to keep a lookout for the creature he had heard earlier) and holding his improvised float he began to kick out towards the channel.

He got to the center of the river ahead of the barge. Treading water for a moment, Rufus watched the black shape begin to grow ominously in his vision. The barge was bearing down on him faster than he had expected. The splash of several long oars came now to his ears, moving in a slow rhythm. Letting go of his driftwood float, Rufus began treading water, maneuvering himself just to the side of the barge's path. Swwwoooooshhhh . . . As the barge swept by him, the pressure of the water tried to push him away, but Rufus swam furiously and regained the side of the vessel. The roughly chinked timber hull smelled of decay and creosote, but Rufus' hands could find no purchase as the barge lumbered past. He kept trying as oars sailed over his head, but all he could catch were splinters.

Just as he was beginning to wonder if he would find a handhold, he caught a large rubber bumper that was hanging low on the barge. He took hold of it desperately, and hauled himself out of the water. The bumper was hanging by a rough, worn cable, and Rufus managed to work his way, hand over hand, to the stern of the vessel. Here the rope passed through a large hole onto the deck near the tiller. There was another lantern here, and peeking through the hole Rufus saw a sleepy but alert boatman holding the tiller of the slow craft. Can't go that way.

He looked back the way he had come, shaking the water out of his eyes as he did so. The only other place where the bulwark was short enough for him to slip over was amidships, and that's where the long oars were being manned by the rest of the boatmen. Can't go that way either. Hmm.

Below the rope rope, however, there was a small hatch only a few feet above the water that had been propped open. Seeing no light from behind it, Rufus pulled it open with his foot. He could hear faint snores coming from inside . . . deciding to chance it, he slipped his feet through the hatch and dropped lightly inside.

It was pitch black inside the barge, and as Rufus waited for his eyes to adjust he listened for any signs that he'd been noticed. The singing was much quieter inside the craft, but it was also being drowned out by people snoring. As his eyes finally got used to the darkness he was able to see two long benches running lengthwise down the cabin. Several people dressed in traveling robes were sprawled on the benches in various uncomfortable looking positions, lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the barge. Stepping over several of the passengers, Rufus noted that he'd come less than a hand's width from landing on one fortunate sleeper's face.

Sliding the passenger cabin door closed behind him, Rufus found himself in the barge's main hold. It was dark in here as well, except for the weak yellow rays coming through the deck grating from the lanterns above. The hold was filled with dark crates and sacks of various sizes; Rufus found a hidden corner and squeezed in to wait. Hopefully they would be in the city by morning . . .

Thump! A mild shock woke Rufus with a start. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but the motion of the barge had proven more persuasive than he anticipated. Mid-morning sun shone into the hold from above. There were voices on deck, and then another slight thud. He listened carefully, but the voices were calmly business-like and he ruled out the possibility of piracy. Rufus thought for a second before his curiosity got the better of him and he decided to get up and mingle with the other passengers. He doubted they would notice a new face in their midst -- as long as he stayed clear of the crew he should have no problems.

Rufus stood and stretched for a moment, working out the knots from his protesting body. He headed aft to see if the snoring crowd was awake yet, but the passenger cabin was deserted. Above his head he could hear an excited, unprofessional babble, which he could only assume meant the passengers were on deck gawking at something. Which means it's time for breakfast . . .

A purloined sheet of flatbread later, Rufus emerged on deck to see what had been going on. A glance over the side told him what the thumps had been -- they were traveling now in a man-made canal, pulled by twin teams of oxen attached to thick towing hawsers that had been thrown onto deck earlier that morning. The crew was all in the stern lounging by the tiller, a rowdy game of dice going among them, while most of the passengers were in the bow.

There was a second stone-lined canal running parallel to their own, and as Rufus watched another barge passed them going the opposite direction. It was nearly identical to their vessel -- long, low, and with raised decks fore and aft -- but was painted a brilliant red instead of the green trim that adorned their own ship. The crew took notice of this as well, and as the ships passed they called out a number of rude but cheerful catcalls in Endite that were responded to in kind.

Rufus turned, heading forward to ask the other passengers how much longer they had to travel. Mounting the ladder, he was about to address the nearest man in Josite when the sight ahead of them took his breath away.

The canals stretched ahead of them, curving around a low hill dotted with plastered houses. Beyond that lay a sea of tile rooftops, most of them ornamented with a wisp of blue smoke curling from their chimney. These buildings were abruptly halted by the squat, heavy line of the city wall, constructed of a pale, washed-out yellow stone with hints of pink. Beyond that a few tall spires reached above the wall, but dominating the city skyline was the Temple of Rahm.

The temple was a mass of complicated galleries, spires and domes, all constructed of brilliant yellow stone. The central dome was lofted far above the end of a massive gallery that formed the heart of the temple. Four huge spires marked each corner of the complex, with a fifth rising in the center to a dizzying height. An arched walkway (looking tiny and fragile from this distance) pierced the dome, connecting it to a point perhaps two thirds of the way up the central spire. It was not the only one -- Rufus began to see dozens of smaller arches suspended in air above the city below, but none so daring as the one at the top of the dome. But this was not what had Rufus' attention.

It was the way the temple shone with light that blew him away. The dome, the tops of the spires, and the gallery's buttresses shone with the burning fire of the sun. The temple was so brilliant that he could hardly look at it without making his eyes water. It must be plated with gold . . . that entire dome, plated in gold! The entire structure shimmered like a second sun in the heat waves already rising off of the city.

". . . and that's one of the most amazing parts to me!" One of the men was chattering at him in Josite. Rufus grunted something indistinct and the man continued.

"I've always wanted to see it in person, but this is unbelievable. Did you know that the canal actually goes right up to the temple? I heard they built it that way on purpose, so that anyone getting water or traveling through the city has to see the temple. Of course, they would've had to build the canal anyway, since there's no way any boat of any size could get through those rapids. It must have been a pain back in the day to portage around them all the time . . ."

Rufus was beginning to make out a second, longer but lower and less blinding structure next to the temple. "What's that?" he asked, pointing.

"That? That's the palace! Haven't you ever been to the City of Asfar before? Well, I guess I haven't either, but even I know what the palace looks like. I heard that . . ."

Rufus once again tuned out the talkative local. The palace . . . it was larger than he had thought -- even from here. There would be a lot of ground to cover in the months to come.

A shout came from one of the men minding the oxen. The boat was coming to the curve in the canal, and the crew reluctantly left their game of dice to man their positions at the oars. Recognizing the danger as the crew came towards him, Rufus slipped quickly and unobtrusively back below deck. He remained there for several minutes, not coming back up until he heard the craft make its ponderous way through the turn and the dice game resume amongst the boatmen.

Above deck once again, Rufus saw that they were now in the city. The two canals ran closely to one another, with only a narrow tow-path in the center dividing them. Plaster and timber buildings lined the street along the canal closely, most of them two stories. The smell of crisp wood-smoke was in the air, along with a host of other smells that common to all places where many people live in close proximity. Vendors jogged alongside the barge, yelling and showing their wares to the people on board by way of baskets hanging from long poles. One passenger bought a meat and vegetable kabob, replacing the basket's food with coin. The puffing salesman lowered his pole and refilled the basket before coming back to the side of the barge. Every once in a while they would pass a side street and Rufus would get a fleeting cross section of the city -- a smoky maze of spindly buildings, clotheslines strung between them like cobwebs.

Passing under a spindly timber footbridge, they were suddenly at the city gates. Four huge portcullises rose up into the heavy stone wall, one for the road on either side of the canal, and two for the canal itself. The walls were thick, almost as thick as their barge was long. The chalky stone blocks matched almost exactly the mortar used to secure them, except at the water's edge where it had turned a dark green.

After passing through the echoing arches, the character of the city changed considerably. All of the buildings were now between two and four stories tall, alternating between plaster and a dusty white brick. Ornate wooden shutters slid open, revealing the cool, dark interiors within. Beautiful patterns of colored tile decorated most of the businesses and some of the homes. Most structures seemed to be bursting with barely contained plant life, whether it be vines on trellises, hanging plants, rooftop gardens, or even the occasionally-glimpsed courtyard seen hidden behind walls and iron gates. The composition of the crowd on the street was not much changed, but yellow-robed scholars and priests became more common.

As they approached the temple, the canal opened up. The two channels joined and spread into a wide basin that was surrounded by docks. Rufus estimated that an entire squadron of naval vessels would fit quite comfortably in it, had there been any way to get them there. On his left and up one flight of massive stairs from the water was a sprawling courtyard with several fountains and statues. Craning his neck, Rufus believed he could see the entrance to the Palace at the far end of the plaza. He shuddered as he realized that he was looking at the building from which a people had been successfully ruling the largest empire in the world for the past three thousand years.

The piers on the left were occupied mainly with smaller, ornate vessels belonging to the Empire's elite. It made sense to Rufus -- one merely had to step off the boat, go up the stairs and cross the large plaza to arrive at the palace, a convenience that he was sure the ruling class appreciated. On the right, however, most of the heavier piers were occupied with barges loading or unloading cargo. Long wooden cranes stretched over them, and a swarm of dockworkers sang at their work.

A wall overgrown with plant life stretched in a disjointed line along one side of the courtyard and across the lower side of the basin, separating the temple complex from the city. It was pierced regularly with small gateways allowing access to paths that were more like green brambly tunnels than avenues of access. The garden between the temple wall and the actual building was so overflowing with greenery that Rufus wondered if any of these paths were even passable.

This theme of overwhelming plant life had been carried up into the temple itself. He hadn't been able to see the amount of green in the temple from so far away, but up close he saw that nearly every square meter was covered in vines, baskets, or flowers. Behind it the temple loomed, not as brilliantly blinding as it had been before but just as beautiful now that Rufus could see it up close. The structure seemed almost like a huge, yellow mountain, pierced with windows and walkways and set astride the canal.

The channel narrowed again ahead, angling sharply right as it encountered the raw stone walls of the Temple of Rahm. As the barge continued, Rufus marveled at the dedication of a people who built such a structure. He knew that the temple served many political and academic purposes, but at its core it remained an example of Asfarian faith.

A testament to gullibility everywhere.

The barge moved into the cool shadow of the temple as the canal wound around it. As they navigated around the massive minaret's foundations, Rufus craned his head trying to see the top of it. He stepped backwards to get a better view--

-- bump! He ran right into one of the crew, who swore in Endite. "Hey, watchit now! We're tryin' to --"

He stopped, eyes narrowing as he looked at Rufus' face. "You sure you got a ticket? Where'd you get on at?"

Rufus stared back. "You know, right at . . ." he knew none of the towns upriver of the city. "North of . . ." The boatman was not going to buy whatever story Rufus came up with, he could tell already. "Oh, fuck it."

"Well, we're gonna -- hey!"

But Rufus was already moving. Twisting free of the boatman's grip, he lept over the side and into the water. Several minutes later he was hauling himself out of the canal up to the street on the other side of the temple. People stared as he stood there dripping, but he paid them no mind. Rufus had done enough sightseeing, it was time to get to work.