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.