189

"Not?"

Gregor shook his head again reflexively. "No. I'm not. I work for them." The man looked puzzled. "I..." Gregor gestured towards himself and away from himself with his left hand, addressing himself and the invisible Electorate that they were addressing. "We work together."

188

The man shook his head at Gregor in annoyance.

"You elec?"

It was a statement and a question. Gregor looked at the man's eyes could see anger rising within them. He shook his head to indicate no, but then stopped unsure if the movement would mean the same to the hooded man.

"No." Gregor said. "No I'm not."

187

Gregor shook his head and moved his lips feebly as no sound came out. He let his breath out through his lip and inclined his head slightly. The man's face, which up until this moment had been smiling, converted into a look of confusion.

187

"I arrived." The man said stuimbling over his words as he removed the hood from his head. As his hood fell to his shoulders it revealed the face of a man who looked to be in his thirtieth year.

Gregor just stared at the man, his mouth hanging open. This was the first time he had heard someone speaking his language since arriving at the castle. Gregor visible shook his head, as if trying to clear something away, unsure that he had heard correctly.

"Me. I arrived." The man said again, as if surprised at Gregor's surprise, and attempting to clarify himself.

186

After a moment or two another robed figured interest the room from the other end. He passed through double doors and sent rectangles of white light spilling into the dark room. The figure in the robes walked quickly across the room and towards Gregor and the tattooed man. The tattooed man inclined his head and then stepped to the side allowing the figured who had just entered the room a clear path towards Gregor.

186

After a moment or two another robed figured interest the room from the other end. He passed through double doors and sent rectangles of white light spilling into the dark room. The figure in the robes walked quickly across the room and towards Gregor and the tattooed man. The tattooed man inclined his head and then stepped to the side allowing the figured who had just entered the room a clear path towards Gregor.

185

The figures wore robes that covered much of their bodies including their faces. The man with the tattoos stood watching them, seemingly waiting to be noticed. After a few moments, during which Gregor attempted to take in the scene unfolding in front of him, a robed figure game up and tapped the tattooed man on the shoulder. The man with the tattoos inclined his head and the robbed figure brought both hands up to over his mouth and then whispered into his ear.

Gregor watched the people working at unloading objects from the chests and placing them around the room. Braziers were being lit by one robed figure using a torch from the fire. Almost immediately after the first one was lit Gregor could smell the intense smell of the incense that was now burning.

184

The interior of the room was darked then the rest of the castle, as the windows had all been covered, and it took Gregor's eyes a few moments to adjust. They were movement in the room, he began to see, but no talking. Men, and he thought some women, were unloading several large chests, at what seemed to be a furtive pace.

183

Gods these men are giants. Gregor thought as the tattooed man approached the two guards. Initially all three men had appeared to be the same height but as the man with the tattoos walked closer to the two guards, the optical illusion was broken and Gregor saw that the man with the tattoos barely came up to the guards shoulders.

The two guards held giant axes with large silver curved blades and topped with a long silver spear point. Gregor eyed the axes and assumed that their function was mostly ceremonial as they would be almost impossible to wield in any confrontation. The two guards turned on their heels and faced each other for a moment before slowly taking three steps backwards and then pausing with their right heel lifted off of the floor.

With a look over his shoulder the man with the tattoos walked up toward the double doors and pushed his way inside. Gregor walked behind him, glancing at the guards on his left who towered over him and did not meet his eyes.

182

Finally they came to a doorway guarded by two tall guards. The guards ignored both Gregor and the man with the tattoos, until the man with the tattoos stepped forward and saluted the guards.

181

"Baran!" The tattooed man called from around the next corner breaking Gregor's reverie. The idea of escape dissolved from his mind, as broke into a run to catch up.

The man with the tattoos led Gregor through the castle and to an area of the castle that seemed to be in better repair. He saw many different groups of invaders as he walked through the castle. None seemed to care much for Gregor, but a few let out shouts of greetings for the man with the tattoos.

180

Gregor looked out into the hallway and saw the guards talking happily with some newcomers. The were obviously the people that Gregor had seen ride in given their diry close and sweaty faces. The slow happy tones of the guards floated around in the background as Gregor rushed forward noticing that the tattooed man had quickened his pace. Again Gregor was surprised by how little attention he was given by any of the guards. The tattooed man hadn't turned his head since leaving Gregor's cell, and Gregor wasn't sure that any of the guards outside had even noticed his departure.

For a moment Gregor thought about escape. About turning from where he was and rushing out of the castle.

179

The man continued to walk towards Gregor with that odd smile on his face. Gregor, still unsure of what to do and not that used to human contact, stood awkwardly adjusting his position and trying to appear calm. Calm, and yet deferential. The man was two paces from Gregor when he raise his hand and clapped Gregor on the shoulder. As he did this Gregor flinched, thinking that the man might strike him, which caused the smile to broaden on the man's face.

Baran what is this man thinking?

The man with the tattoos gestured towards the door with his head and turned to walk towards the door. Gregor stood there, still in shock.

I'm a fucking prisoner, what the fuck does he expect?

After a few steps the man turned to see if Gregor was following him. When he noticed that Gregor had not moved he gestured with his head a few more times in rapid succession and then continued to walk. Slowly feeling returned to Gregor's legs and he began to walk towards the door, following the man a few paces behind.

178

Halfway to the doorway Gregor paused as he heard the key turning in the rusty lock. He watched as the door swung open and the warrior with the tattoos walked calmly in. Gregor stood his ground, a bit unsure how to react, as he had not seen the man with the tattoos since they had arrived at the castle.

"Baran!" The tattoo man said with a smile pounding his fist into his now covered chest.

"Baran." Gregor replied awkwardly, unsure if using the name of a god for a greeting was a good idea.

177

Besides which his days were long, and doing anything was often better then doing nothing. It was on his 76th lap when there was a loud knock at the door of his room. He paused for a moment, jerked out of his daydream reverie, and looked at the door. As this had never happened before he was unsure what he was expected to do. Do you answer the door to your own cell? He breakfast knocks usually signaled that his food had already been placed within his cell, but this was different. Gregor walked across the floor of his room made cell slowly, hoping that whomever was banging on the other side of the door would solve his conundrum for him.

176

With a sigh Gregor tried to suppress his feelings and finished breaking his fast. After eating his drank the glass of water that had been provided and placed his dirty dishes near the door. He glanced out the window for a moment, from the doorway and began the second part of his morning routine: exercise.

One hundred laps around the room was how Gregor rounded out his mornings. He had come upon this routine for lack of anything better to do, and he reasoned that a certain amount of physical exercise would be good for him. He also found there to be something relaxing in the exercise, it allowed him to take pause and slow his mind.

175

*11*

A series of loud knocks woke Gregor. He stretched for the briefest of moments before rising from his straw bed and making his way the the door to the room that was his cell. Just inside of the door his breakfast greeted him. Gregor eyed his breakfast and then picked it up and walked over to the crumbling hole that was once a window in this castle. So it was this morning, and so it had been for the past two moons. A repetition that made his situation almost bearable. As though the worst in life could be rendered normal by sheer repetition.

He rested his plate on a flat section of bricks and looked out onto the valley below. More troops were arriving. For the fourth time groups similar to the one that had captured him came tumbling into the valley. He waited, eating, for the sound to reach him. He knew that their entrance would be the same as the others, and the same as the one he had made with his entourage. There.

The soldiers racing on their overly large horses, heads covered in a variety of strange animal skulls, erupted in a series of loud guttural cries. In moments the soldiers within the castle answered the call. Gregor could hear the soldiers guarding his locked door answering the call a moment later then hose with a window view. Prisoner though he was there was something in the warrior cries that made the hair on Gregor's arms stand up.

174

"Now to celebrate the night!" Tloque passed cups to Itzi and Chicome. "This my friends is a special drink. Chicome, my dear, you've had it before, but Itzi this will be new for you. Now to the night!" Tloque raised his glass and held it i nthe air in the middle of the table, waiting for the others to join him. In a moment both did.

173

"The crowd seems to like it."

"Of course they do. They do it every night as well."

Out of the corner of his eye Itzi saw something green moving and looked over to see the performer walking towards them. He wore a large grin on his face and was obviously enjoying the cheers and back pats form the crows as he passed. As he cleared the crowd he waved his hand towards Itzi and Chicome.

Itzi wrinkled his eyebrows momentarily confused and then waved at the man. The performer cam close and pulled a chair from a nearby table and placed it next to Chicome, diagonally facing the table.

"Hello Chicome, there's room here isn't there. Why didn't you choose larger table? Maybe we can retire to my dressing room? More privacy and all of that if you know what I mean. Itzi nice to meet you." The performer held out his hand and gave Itzi hand, after he offered his in return, and violent shake. "I'm Tloque, you can call me Tez. Ahh the round has arrive. Empty your glasses table and make way for the round." Tloque clapped his hands together theatrically and gathered up the two empty cups on the table, helping to make room for the drinks the waitress was placing on the table.

Itzi took time during the pause in Tloque's speech to get a closer look at his performing clothes. The green that Itzi had seen earlier was actually a flowing shirt and a green cape that was draped over he shoulder and reached halfway down his back. The green cape was covered in a golden fring, and from the look of it Itzi assumed that there was some sort of a symbol or picture stitched into the back of it, just out of his line of vision.

172

"You are here because frankly you were in the right place at the wrong time. Or perhaps you were in the wrong place at the right time? It's not important, you died at the right place and at the right time. You died in the middle of a situation that some of us are interested in. You unique position gives you a certain value to myself and some of my friends, which is why you find yourself here instead of somewhere else. We brought you here but that is about as far as the consensus has gotten." Chicome took a deep drink from her wine, finishing the rest of her cup. "We thought this would be a good place for you to spend a few days, an enjoyable afterlife before we need you to go back."

"Back?" Itzi asked, being polite more then anything else. He knew what she meant from the look in her eyes. There was only one back, and the memories of it had been slowly sinking into his consciousness since she told him that he was dead.

"Yes. We need you alive. Certain tasks are well suited to your kind."

"My kind?"

"Alive."

The performer finished his third song and the crowd erupted with cheers and applause. This applause differed from the other responses from the crowd as it seemed to last longer. The crown began stomping it's feet in time with the clapping and soon the very walls of the inn were shaking.

"He loves this part." Chicome sighed. "Encores should be abolished for being the useless ego stroking that they are. Of course he's coming back," Chicome said with a raised voice to the crowd that paid no attention, "he does this every night!"

171

The performer on the stage brought his song to a frenzied crescendo, raising the response of the crowd to the stomping of feet and clapping of hands. The people that had been sitting beside Itzi and Chicome left their seats, and with clapping hands and smiling faces made their way to the stage.

Chicome leaned forward in her seat, Itzi noticed out of the bottom of his vision that she rested her breasts ever so slightly on the the table as she did this, presumably to make it easier for him to hear her words.

"Why am I here?" Itzi asked before Chicome had a chance to speak. The words that had been about to emerge from her opening lips were swallowed back down.

"Now that is a question that deserves an answer."

170

Chicome stretched, visibly pulling back from the conversation for a moment. "But none of this really matters. Interesting perhaps, but not the best usage of time."

169

She paused for a moment, looking into his eyes, and frowned. "Well, to be more accurate, it's an afterlife. Something for you, Something in somewhat familiar and inviting. Not for you, as in you Itzi, don't missunderstand me, we're not making this exeryday. But it's you as in your people."

"My people? I'm not sure that I have something like that."

"Don't be pedantic. There's not much worse then a pedantic mortal. Think about it this way, whatever you imagine to be your people, they helped shape this. From their pain, fear, joy, and sorrow. Their memories, prayers, myths, it all helped to shape this."

"An inn?"

"It's more then that, and it's different for different people. Like a dream you fade in and out from. And for some it's not a final place, but a stop on the way. When you cross over, it's not as cut and dry as the living think." The music from the stage began again as the performer launched into his second song. "But the specifics of it really are not that important, and I'm not just being difficult, nor am I trying to hide anything from you, but it's hard to be specific about something that really, well, isn't." She took a sip of wine, her green eyes flashed for a moment in the lamp light and Itzi was again struck by her beauty. "Does a reed blow North or South?" She shook her head from the right to the left. "Well both really, but that's not even the full story is it. Does it blow East or West? Well it's more like a combination of all of those, and if there's no wind well then it probably doesn't blow at all? Do you see what I'm saying?"

"That last one doesn't make that much sense. Now I've just been told that I'm dead, and I can't remember my life, so maybe I'm being a bit sensitive. But if the question is what way does a reed blow, and one of the answers is it doesn't if the wind doesn't blow? Frankly that really doesn't cut it."

"Well if the reed doesn't blow you're just dead."

"Some people are just dead?"

"What?" She asked as the music increased in volume.

"Dead! Some people are just dead?"

"Sure. There are a lot of variables that go into this, some people are, and this doesn't make sense, but if you shelve your pedantic ways you can understand what I mean, happier to not exist. For them the nullification or the cessation of their pain or agony is enough, sometimes it may be retribution, sometimes it may be a kindness, sometimes it may be the exhalation of breath into the void of nothingness, the infinity of that moment between existence and extinguish. A void that stretches and warps, and that pulls down into forever, and then just drops away into nothing."

168

The crowd was obviously getting ready to enjoy the entertainment, but the woman with the black hair seated across from him looked anything but happy. She rested her chin on her hand and gave him a tight smile.

"Well, time is ever precious." She rubbed her chin for a moment and then sat up straight in her chair. "Now, obviously something is amiss here. You do realize that you've failed to ask me my name? Have you thought about yourself? Could you tell me your name?"

"I don't know, I don't think so. I Didn't really think about it."

"And I think that we've already been going over this haven't we. Your name is Itzi."

He smiled when he heard the name. Itzi, my name.

"Remembrance, that is good. It's never really a blank slate, that's just something philosophers like to argue about. There's always a little something left scratched on the tablet. So your name is Itzi. My name is Chicome. We don't have much time."

As if on cue the performer on the stage began to play his musical instrument. A sad an melancholy minor tune began to spread over the bar. The performer was obviously talented, as the song was complex but seemed simple as layers of notes were effortlessly piled upon each other.

"He plays well." Itzi said.

"Yes." Chicome said with a huff. "And he has a flair for the dramatic, melodramatic if you ask me, and he's also very full of himself. And I think he's doing this just to annoy me." She looked towards the stage and continued to to talk, and although her words were aloud it seemed to Itzi as though she was speaking to herself. "But he has his own games to play. He's been on the board for a long time, perhaps he forgets himself."

The two sat and listened to the performer play and sing. His song was of lost love, young lovers separated by a heaving earth and a raging river. They grow old apart their love for each other remaining pure. Then on the last day of their lives they both return to the river and die, with their lover in their eyes, on opposite banks of the river.

Chicome sighed and turned her head back to regard Itzi. Her eyes were glassy with tears that had not been allowed to truly form, and there was a sadness in her face that reflected the contents of the song. The applause form the crown only died when the performer in green began playing the next song.

"You're dead Itzi. This is the afterlife."

167

"Or worse." She said dabbing some leftover wine from her lips.

The sound of a stringed instrument being tuned was suddenly heard in the common room. Patrons began to clap and laugh in anticipation. Those patrons that were further away from the stage began to leave their seats and make their way closer. He turned to see if he could find the figure on stage. There was a half-wall at the end of the bench that prevented him from seeing anything more then the flash of a flowing green sleeve.

166

He nodded. He could feel that what she said was correct. This weightlessness that he felt was new, it wasn't the way he always was. Maybe that makes it easier.

165

"My shoulders feel straighter," He continued, "and my breath, there's something about it. It fills my chest and it's so cool, and it just feels, it's hard to describe, as thought it was fresh. Every breath seems pure. I'm not sure, I think I can remember, when it was different, when there was something else, when there was—"

"—a weight."

"Yes! A weight."

Drinks arrived at the table and the black haired lady thanked the waitress with the familiarity of a regular. The waitress nodded in return and went to serve other patrons.

"Thank you." He said taking a sip. The black haired lady absently waved off his thanks with her hand. "Isn't that strange? I don't think I remember anything, I'm not even sure what it's like, to remember something. There's something there, but I can't quite hold on to it. It feels like it should be important, but I just can't be bothered. You have the most beautiful green eyes I've ever seen." He laughed. "Can that even make sense? Or does it make too much sense?"

"With time that will change, all of it. Be glad and enjoy the way you feel for now. In some respects," She paused and brought her wine goblet to her lips. "It's better for you and harder for me. They will deny it, but when I speak now, and strip you of that, there will be sorrow in that for me. They seek to strip everything from me, I think it makes it easier for them." Her lips tightened into a thin line, the first look of sadness or anger he had seen since entering the Crow's Next. "But they have no idea of heavy the burden is. You on the hand may understand very shortly."

164

He watched the woman over the rim of his mug as he drank the Nut ale. Trying, and failing he assumed, to watch her without her noticing. Without anything else to do he realized that he was already half-way done his drink. He put the mug down on the table and then looked up to find the woman who had bought him the drink standing in front of his table.

"Would you mind if I sat down?" She asked. "I don't assume you will, but it always pays to be polite."

"No, please. And thank you for the drink." He answered, trying to his best to follow her lead and be polite.

She sat down and looked at him with a slight smile on her face. A smile that tilted her head to the side, a few stray strands of black curls falling onto her face. Her beauty, obvious form a distance was all the more stunning up close. Straightening she brush her hair out of her face. He smiled back and took another sip of his drink. She looked at his cup as he put it down and then raised her right hand into the air.

"I suppose you're feeling a little bit confused. Out of place perhaps?"

He let his breath out of his nose slowly before speaking. "No. Not confused." He looked away at some of the patrons crowding the bar and thought for a moment. "Not confused...lighter. More at ease."

"I'm glad." She smiled at him again.

163

This seems to be the right place. He thought to himself, a bit unsure as to exactly what that meant. It felt right though, to have come here, to the Crow's Nest, even the watchman had known that. He reached out and let his hands feel the heat form the flame of the small table lamp. He held his right hand close to the light and saw the saw that the light lit the flesh of his finger, around the bone, into a bright red. For a moment his hands felt eerie and lighter then air, as though the heat and glow from the candle had seeped into his hand and was pushing it up into the air. He felt disconnected to his hand, as though it was floating there in space, someone else's hand. Then a thick earthenware mug of ale banged down onto the table.

He looked at the drops of ale that had fallen onto the table, and the white bubbles that were forming in the small puddles. Before the bubbles truly had time to form a deft hand pulled a grey washcloth from an apron waistband and encircled the spilt ale with the cloth. The circular motion of the cloths continues until the ale was gone. With a snap the cloth looped over in the air, was caught by the female hand and tucked knowingly back into the apron's waistband.

"I'm sorry," He said looking up at the woman, who was holing a tray of similar mugs of ale, "I didn't order this."

"No you didn't. But she did." The waitress knelt down bringing her free arm close to his eye level and pointing at a group of people sitting at a table near the bar. "The lady there, with the grey riding dress and the black hair."

He leaned forward and followed her arm to see a woman sitting at a table with three other people. She was looking at him, her black hair combed in such a way that implied immaculate, and he knew, even from this distance, that her eyes were green

"I don't know her."

"She says she knows you." The waitress straightened her legs and began to walk away. "That or she made a mistake and you got a free drink. Not the worst thing ta happen to a man alone in a bar."

Hesitating for a breath, he lifted the mug of ale into the air and awkwardly returned the toast of the black haired woman in the grey riding dress. He took a sip and put the drink back down on the table.

"Is this the nut ale?" He called to the waitress who was making her way back into the thick of the crown.

"Yup." She called without turning around.

It is good for what ails you. He thought, taking another sip.

162

He saw down at the one empty table, choosing the bench so that he could have a full view on the common room. He glanced at the path that he had recently taken and was slightly surprised to note that the space he had occupied had been filled. He hadn't carved a path, instead the sea of people parted around him and then rose to fill the empty space once he was gone. His passage was now invisible, as though he had simply appeared in this seat rather then walked to it.

He placed his hands on the table and looked at them, for a moment feeling self-conscious about where he should put them. Looking up from his hands he relaxed a bit noting that no one, not even the people sitting closest to him seemed to be paying any attention to him or his hands.

161

The man in the white shirt stood still for a moment, waiting to see if Pisco the shepherd was going to address him again. When it became clear that the conversation had returned to the table, the man in the white shirt continued down the row, excusing himself to people he bumped as he passed.

He walked passed a stage that was currently empty, but the flickering lanterns ringing the stage implied that some type of performer would take the stage that evening. The stage was small, with only enough room for two or three performers. People crowded the stage, sitting three deep in a semi-circle along the stage's front.

He saw a seat near the back corner of the common room and made his way towards it. The corner was darker then much of the bar lit by small table lamps on a row of five two person tables. A bench ran along the wall providing seats for one person at each table, and old wicker chairs provided the other. The corner was the furthest corner from the entrance and the the bar explainng the one empty table.

160

He wove his way through the crowd of men and woman. He saw smiling faces as he passed talking and singing at the tables or leaning against the wall. The tables were old and worn with the grooves of countless mugs of ale and dinner plates. He began making his way between to long rows of tables with bench seating. As he made his way a man wearing a brown shepherd's hat and a brown woollen vest leaned back from the table, mouth smiling and eyes glazed, and raised his mug of ale to the man in the white shirt.

The man in the white shirt smiled and nodded awkwardly, unsure how to return the gesture.

"You need something in your hand!" The shepherd clapped the man in the white shirt on the shoulder. "A drink! The nut ale will be what yer looking for. Trust me, it's good for what ales you."

"Come off it already." A large woman groaned from the seat next to the shepherd. She turned to the left to face the shepherd and the man in the white shirt. "He tries that joke on any new face around her. None laugh. Do you hear that?" She turned to address the shepherd. "It's not funny. How many moons with the same joke!" She signed and shook her head. "Nut Ale!" She yelled at no one in particular. "Two nut ale's here. I need to drown this fool's jokes."

"See it is good for what ale's you!" The shepherd laughed.

The man seated directly across from the shepherd nearly spit his drink on the table as he laughed. Choking he thumped his fist against his chest. "Gods Pisco you like to play with fire."

"How do you think I got us here." The shepherd named Pisco said with a smile, turning back to the table. "She loves fiery men."

159

"Grab a seat!" A female voice yelled, rising above the cacophony.

He looked around trying to find the source of the voice.

"You at the front door! Drunk or daft I don't care. Find a place to sit and get your ass out of the way."

He nodded in a few directions, hopefully addressing the voice, and began to make his way through the crowd.

158

White walls that would have gleamed in the sunlight, and light wood used on the doors, windows, and roofs. All of the windows he passed were shuttered, most only showing darkness through the cracks, but a few were ringed light escaping through the gaps along the edges. The moonlight, and it's reflection off of the damp cobblestones was enough to guide him down the road.

After a while the road began to curve to the right and eventually he noted, glancing back over his shoulder, he could no longer see the wall that surrounded the village. He continues to make his way along and the road made a sudden and hard turn to the left. Once the turn was completed he saw The Crow's Nest. Or what, from this distance, he assumed to be The Crow's Nest.

Yellow light and the sound of merriment spilled out of an open door in one of the larger white buildings. As he drew closer he could see the occasional shadow pass on the inside of the door way, and he was able to make out the sign that hung above the open door. An obviously drunken woman, shamefully over endowed, was in the crow's nest of a ship, and leaning forward, towards the viewer. The word's below the image read: Crow's Nest in cracked lettering painted read.

He made his way towards the inn and then stepped through the threshold and inside. He stood there for a moment, blinking away the sudden change in light. After his eyes had adjusted, and after narrowly missing a serving woman carrying a tray full of empty glasses he surveyed the room. A room which appeared to me much larger than the outside of the building had led him to believe. It was quite full of people talking, singing, and for the most part drinking.

157

"You coming in?" The old man asked.

"That's they way I was headed. Yes."

The old man grunted and disappeared from the window in the door. The man stood in the road and listened to the clanking of metal keys in metal locks. After a few moments the clanking ceased and the door swung open on squeaky hinges. The man in the white shirt stepped through the open door and nodded at the watchman, who was staring at him through the window in the door.

"I expect you'll be lookin' for a place to stay," The watchman paused to spit on the road, "given the time of night and all."

"Yes, I think I could use a rest. Although, strangely I'm not that tired. I think I feel more awake then I have in a long time."

"We get all types." The old man said under his breath, although loud enough for the man in the white shirt to hear him. "Try the Eagle's Nest." A cough overtook the old man, and when he recovered after a moment, he spat upon the ground again. "Down the road a ways. Only paved road in town." He began to close the door. The man in the white shirted turned to watch him in his task. "Follow the sounds. You'll get there eventually."

"Thanks."

"It's my job." The old man turned away from the man in the white shirt and began climbing the stairs that led to a feeble flickering light in the watchman's perch. "I've got a drink waiting for me." The stairs creaked under his weight and he leaned on the railing to help him in his journey. "Try not to wake me."

The man in the white shirt watched the man climb the stairs until he was gone from few and then continued down the paved road. He could hear the sound of the common room of the Eagle's Nest growing louder as he walked down the deserted road. The buildings he passed were all somewhat uniform in colour and building material, resembling the construction of the wall the surrounded the village.

157

He look at his hands. He? He turned his hands over and looked at his palms in the moonlight before turning them back around to look at their backs. He. These are male hands. He felt his face and hair. No stubble, short hair. He.

He took a deep breath in through is nose. The air he took in was cool and his nasal cavity felt open and expansive. Their was salt in the air. He took a few steps down the road towards the town so that he could look past the large cliff wall that had been obstructing his view. The cliff walls were bright white and dotted with green bushes bravely taking hold of the moisture and soil that could be found in cracks. But he wanted to see the ocean. After a few clumsy steps he look and saw the water down below. He really was quite high up. Trees obscured anything below him, but the in the distance sparkled and danced in the full moon light.

Something int he blackness seemed familiar to him. Shrugging he began walking towards the entrance to the village. Something about the familiarity that had felt upon seeing the nighttime sky tugged as his memory, but he was unable to focus on it, and so he just kept walking towards the village. It seemed like the thing to do, the road ran towards the village entrance, and after all that was the way he had been heading.

As he got closer to the barred gate of the village he could see lights flickering through the wathman's window, which was inset in the small door. Ten paces from the entrance he could hear the sounds of people's voices and music. At five paces a voice called out to him.

"You there."

He stopped and looked around to see if there was anyone there with that name. Thinking that there had been a mistake he continued to walk closer, hoping to knock on the door and let the watchman know he was there.

"I said: 'You there!'" The voice called out again. "You in the white shirt and brown pants."

He looked down and saw that he was wearing a loose cotton shirt and brown woollen pants.

"Me?"

"Yes" The voice sighed. "The only man standing on the road." An old man's face came into view behind the iron bars. The watchman closed his left eye and squinted at the man standing in the road with the white shirt.

156

The speed that was being traveled seemed to increase again, increasing in an exponential way. Now it was as though the black was slowly being wiped away by the knife slits. Slowly being erased from the field of view that the consciousness held. And then, when the exponential travel hit its apex, white light filled the view of the consciousness with the intensity of before but without the pain.

Then there was impact.

The impact of a body hitting stone. Hitting wet stone. The wetness was perceived by the consciousness, who was still in the process of coming to grips with existence itself, and who was now faced with the exceptionally limiting concept of the physical form in which it had just been manifested, as a cold sensation on its ear and cheek.

The figure sat up on the cobblestones using his arms. It was dark, Night, and the figures eyes were in the process of adjusting to the lack of light. Eventually his eyes began to be grow aware of white circular glow of moonlight on the damp cobblestones. He also became aware of the uncomfortable wetness seeping into his pants and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. He looked around and saw that he was on a cobblestone road just outside of a small hilltop village.

The village was surrounded by a high brick wall. The brick was smooth and grey in the moonlight. Columns topped in light brown wood marked the entrance to the village. The entrance was currently blocked by a large wooden door with a smaller human sized door inset within it. The consciousness that was now personified was was acutely aware of all of the knowledge that it seemed to easily recall when once it seemed so empty. Memories. Are these my memories, memories of words? Or is there something in this flesh that is feeding me?

155

The light began to get bigger. No motion was felt but the growing size of the speck of light implied travel. The consciousness had a vague idea that it was moving towards the light, but the majority of it's focus was on trying to understand what it was. All other things were hazy and were lost before they could ever be grasped. The past and the future were concept unattainable. The present moment spread out into infinity like a fan.

But there is motion. Motion implied time, a past and a present and a future destination. The speck of light grew in the vision of the consciousness. As it grew so did the light it emitted. Soon the light from the speck seemed to burn itself into the vision of the consciousness. With no ability to look away, or thought process that would enable such a thing, pain began to bloom.

Then, another speck became visible. Seeming dark now against the powerful light of the first speck. Another source of light appeared off in the distance, growing larger with the other two. Then all there was was the light from the first speck. Where once was black now all was light, blinding light. And then it was gone. Now before the consciousness was a shell of black with tiny pin holes of light poking through. An uncountable amount, stretching off into the distance as far as the consciousness could perceive.

Stars! The consciousness laughed. There was strangeness there. A memory. Like stars. Like what I have seen before. A moment. I have a past. The movement, now obvious with the points of light, increased it's pace. Soon the lights were sailing passed the vision of the consciousness at a speed that seemed to pull and bend and stretch the very light being emitted. Now instead of pin pricks the light looked as though it was coming through slits made by a knife.

154

It wasn't like waking up. It was like realizing that you were dreaming but without the dreams. There were no eyelids to open, instead it was like a veil, or a roll of gauze, slowly being lifted off of open eyes. At first there was nothing, blackness. The same blackness that was there before. Only now the consciousness viewed the blackness. The wasn't the blackness of closed eyes or this middle of this nice, this blackness just was.

I am witnesses it. The consciousness thought. I am and it is. We are separate. But where am I?

Now the black began to shift. The separation of the two, of the black and the consciousness seemed to have triggered something. Movement. I'm moving. Do I move? What do I move? The black in front of the seemed to move past the consciousness almost like wind. Wind! Wind on my face. A light! There off in the distance a tiny speck of light erupted in the darkness. Though small and weak, in contract to the never-ending black the speck of light shone like the sun.

153

*10*

He floated. Behind the dark, like eyes closed he floated. There was red at the sides and down the middle if the thought about it, but he didn't. He wasn't even there. He floated. A miss and forgotten. Blown and tumbles and spun around through. He drifted as it pleased, but he wasn't even there to notice. There was a thought behind the darkness something pressing close. Something disturbing the black. There was a whisper where there had been no sounds. Smoke drifted. Consciousness returned.

152

Malina looked up from the rubble and saw that the road ahead was lined with people. More people than had been along the road previously. As they approached Malina could see that all of the people were wearing similar clothing. The colour of their clothing differed yet they appeared to be wearing the robes of a religious order. Most of the people lining the road were wearing Blue or brown robes. Those that were wearing brown robes had black scapula on. There were a few wearing badly stained white robes and one man wearing a black robe with an orange scapula.

They were lined up according to the colour of their robe for the most part, and as Malina passed them she could see the fatigue on their faces and the dust and soot on their robes. The people, men and woman, looked at the Toltec as the marched past with empty eyes; two silent groups watching each other. Then as one the robed marches knelt. The four generals at the head of the column signaled a halt and the procession stopped.

Teiuc dismounted from his horse and walked over to the one man that wearing the black robes. Malina figured him the head of this religious order. As Teuic approached the man remained on his knees with his head bowed. Teiuc reach the man and then lay a hand on the top of his head. The man visibly shuddered and then lifted his gaze to meet Teiuc. Even at this distance Malina could see the tears as they ran down the man's cheeks, she cringed inwardly, because she could not tell why he cried.

151

The procession turned down another narrow street and began making its way to an area of town that appeared to have been badly damaged by the fire. There was a difference in the size of the buildings and their construction, leading Malina to surmise that the age of this area was different then the age of the previous area. What she now saw had the look of faded glory. Ostentation left to ruin.

Malina began to take note of the statues that they passed. There were many, close to the roof tops; on the sides of buildings; or in fountains, and all had been vandalized in some sort. A power struggle at some point, the statues representing the sides of the losers.

Some of the buildings they passed seemed to have been untouched by the fighting and fire. Both others had only a portion of their walls remaining. The procession turned another corner and Malina was forced to suppress the shock she felt from reaching her face. Why do I bother? The entire block that faced her now had been destroyed. It seemed as though the casters has paid special attention to this area. Rubble was piled haphazardly along the side of the road, obviously done by someone in the army to make way for the procession, as the rest of the block still smouldered.

Her Malina could see the ocean through the gaping holes where the buildings should have been. The sun sparkled on the waves as they rippled out in the bay. Seabirds circled in the sky lazily looking for an easy meal before the tide pools filled. She could hear the birds call out as they circled and dived into the water. The juxtaposition between the destroyed building and the circling birds could not have been more obvious for Malina. Nature doesn’t even care. The destruction here was so complete, but for the birds it’s not even worth a glance.

“Except for the carrion.” She sighed aloud now noticing the black birds hopping their way through the rubble.

150

The Toltec soldiers marched silently through the streets as they had done many times before. This was a march of victory, and silence, they had been trained, was the best way to parade in front of the conquered. Any laughter or rowdiness would spark anger in those with a backbone. The silence stunned most people after being conquered, as none expect it. It keeps them waiting, they watch the precision, the control of the march, and it worries them.

Most of the fire had been extinguished, but the scent of burnt wood and flesh still hung in the air. Malina found herself unwilling to look into the eyes of the conquered, if she had a mirror she was worried that she would see the same look in her eyes. Instead she watched the four generals ride in front of her. This was the first time she had seen the replacement Jaguar and Eagle generals that she had slain. Nochtli and Xipil were both loyal to Teiuc, and there was nothing of surprise in their selection, save their previous rank. Both men had been Castellans of their order, a rank not usually selected from when appointing generals.

149

The next day Malina found herself paraded through the defeated city. She rode near the head of the procession two levels back from the generals. She rode a white mare with grey spots running from the horses neck and down one side. The sound of the horses hooves echoed off of the stones that made up the road. The people of the city stood nervously at the edge of the road or peered through closed shudders as they passed by.

148

"A complete victory." Teuic walked closed to stand beside Malina. He pointed at the city with his right hand. "The city government surrendered unconditionally. As with any conquest the high ranking officials in the city government and guard were executed. The executions were carried out in front of those that we left alive."|

"Then can the traitorous and corrupt. Pledging allegiance to you, and swearing to serve." Malina added under her breath, remembering the scenes of victories past.

"Yes. More then I would have guessed."

"Then you executed those traitors."

"Of course. Those that remained could not believe the amount of blood."

"They are not conquerors. I doubt very much they war at all."

"Astute. There was a level of skill and control in the local regiment, but most had never seen a battle front before. There was skill, but an arm cannot stand on so many weak knees."

"Why do you tell me this?" Malina asked. Here eyes darted back and forth along the ground, but her nervousness was hidden from Teuic as he was standing slightly behind her.

"I could see the admiration in your eyes. This is a day of victory and even in your situation the ease of the battle brought forth pride. This war will be over quickly and we will see the prophecies fulfilled."

With that Teuic walked past Malina towards the city. His boots echoed on the wooded dock and left black footprints in the ash that continued to fall. Malina watched his as he departed. She saw the salutes he received from his soldiers that were busy at work. Do they not see me? I am hear! Your Empress. Does none of that matter? Could they truly be right? Have I been that much of a fool to believe in my position? Was I the only one who thought of me as Empress?

The questions continued to swirl in Malina's head, like the flakes of ash slowly falling from the sky.

147

Malina turned to look at Teuic awkwardly given the ropes that bound her. The man stood smiling on the docks, his footprints trailing behind him in the ash back up the gangplank and onto the ship. The man smiled at Malina with his hands in the air gesturing at the scene around them.

The man looks as though he just bedded Xochiquetzal herself. Beware sisters, that is the smile that spread a thousand legs in Tollan.

146

The next day Malina stood on the dock as the soldiers unloaded the supplies from the ship. The scale of project was monumental and causes a glimmer of pride to form in Malina. Regardless of what had happened, she had been a part of this return. An entire army had sailed half-way around the world, and now the main force was disembarking after a clear victory.

Ash still slowly fell from the sky as fires burned unchecked in certain areas of the town. When the sight of soldiers bored her, Malina would turn and look at the strange city her people had defeated. Buildings in grey stone as opposed to the smooth white limestone she was used to. Angular instead of smooth, red roofs made out of a curved stone shingle instead of Wood.

Watching the smoke rise to the sky Malina felt that same feeling of pride. This is the destruction that had been wrought by her people. A prophecy was being fulfilled, an ancient wrong was being righted. Those that would die and those that would suffer were not innocent. The land of her pre-ancestors was the land of her people by rights. These people had been caretakers, put in place to maintain the land and their faith in the Gods. In this they had faltered. Their memories had faded and the old faiths had been lost. Arrogance grew in it's absence and they had forgotten their positions. The sons who continues his father's crime remains guilty. A guilt spread across an entire continent and people. Weak in absence, the Toltec would ravage the land as the fires had ravaged the city.

"Admiring our work?"

Teuic's voice pulled Malina from her thoughts and brought her back to reality. The once empress chained to the docks, watching an army that was no longer hers begin the conquest of a people.

145

Chantico sat back down in Malina's old chair and watched her lying on the floor. She looked up at him but was unable to meet his eyes for longer than a moment. Malina steadied herself on her hands for a moment and then pushed herself to her feet. The tears were not in her eyes they but she could feel them in her chest. Struggling she straightened her shoulders and her neck and looked at Chantico, but the steel in her had been weakened. She could feel the side of her face thicken from the slap, but it was her inability to deal with Chantico that hurt her most of all.

Malina had always thought of Chantico as a weak toady. A man that held the position he did because the way he knelt and scraped before Teiuc. A man not worth thinking about, hardly worth a mention. A man whom she had believed she would have to crush at some point when he got full of himself. And here he was shaming her and feeling pity for her as she huddled on the floor.

I am Empress no longer.

144

"We need your heart beating, but we don't need much else." Chantico crouched down so that he was closer to Malina. "Don't think that your beating heart gives you any power. We don't needs your eyes, or your tongue. We don't even need your nose, or your pretty arms. None of that matters. If you press me I will take this and much more from you." Chantico stood up and walked away. "You sat their in your tower in Tollan eagerly lapping up the shit that we fed you every day. How do you still stand after that." Chantico was now pacing around the room and wasn't looking at Malina any longer.

I do not warrant attention.

"You didn't give a damn what was happening so long as you remained at the head. Empress to an empire that hated you. You think we respected you? All this time?" He turned to face her, the question in his eyes almost looked real. "No. We despised you. We held you in contempt, but we knew that we needed you. We needed to keep you fat. So we built an empire for you. This of that. We built an empire to keep you in the dark. Think of the scale. The art that went into something like that. And you think showing a little fucking backbone will humble me? If that's the case," he turned from Malina again, "you've swallowed more shit then I even thought possible..."

Rage was growing in Malina. The humiliation this man tossed at her feet with such ease and lightness was staggering. He could beat and rape her and it didn't matter. She was a tool to be used and nothing more. The need to keep her in her place was no longer there so they simply removed her.

"...and you can't even comprehend your actual situation. I almost feel sorry for you."

143

Malina stood staring at Chantico as his easy smile spread back across his face. He raised his eyebrows at her exposing the white's of his eyes. Then he pursed his lips together and nodded his head towards Malina.

"I see. From what you're not saying, I'm assuming that the ancestors have not been saying anything as of late. And if you're not following, I'm saying that you haven't been able to hear much of anything for the last few weeks." The boat rocked back and forth under the power of a large swell. Some of the stacks of papers on Malina's old desk swayed under the motion causing a single piece of paper to fall to the floor. Malina's eyes were pulled from Chantico and followed the paper to the ground.

After the paper had stilled on the deck Malina raised her eyes to look at Chantico again. Something had hardened in his face. The muscles in his jaws clenched and then loosened again. Now it was time for Malina to bring a smile to her face. Malina coulse see Chantico's face darken as the smile spread from her mouth to her eyes. She held her smile as she watched him rise from his desk and walk towards her.

"You have no power you know."

"You need me alive. You need to still my beating heart on the Altar of the Ancients."

The speed and violence open handed slap took Malina by surprise and knocked her to the ground. She could feel her heart racing in her chest even as she struggled to come to her knees. A boot pressed into her back and then flung her to the ground again. She turned and looked up at Chantico curling herself into a ball. She steadied her hands in between her knees keeping them from reaching up to her face. Chantico stood above her blocking out the light from the lanterns as they swung with the roll of the ship.

142

"To speak with such knowledge of the gods is a dangerous thing." Malina said.

"To speak to me like that,"

That smile, by Quetzal it crawls beneath my skin.

", is a dangerous thing." Chantico continued.

"Anything you can do pales in comparison to that of the Gods. You forget the possibility of eternity that awaits you upon death. Questzal could hold you in his talons until time itself ceases, or snuff you existence out with a thought." Malina's voice sounded good to her ears.

The smile on Chantico's face darkened slightly as he listened to Malina's words. He looked at the closed door to the room and tightened his lips.

"I had not thought that you would possess such a backbone, given your current condition."

"My backbone comes from the Gods and the knowledge I have received directly from our ancestors. The veil is not as dark for me as it is for you." Malina could feel the strength of her words in her body. It was like standing after being bent over for a long period of time: relief and a little bit of pain.

"Oh yes, our ancestors." Chantico bunched up his lips in mock sadness. "How are they these days. "They must be quite happy given our return to their ancestors homeland. The victory's that have been won must have pleased them. I must know what they have said on the manner." Chantico leaned forward in his chair. He was exaggerating his movements in concert with his sarcastic words. "So tell me, Malina, what have they said to you. You, a conduit to our past, to our ancestors, what are they telling you?" CHantico's voice was rising, the anger in his words now real. "You are so special to the people you must know something! You touch our past, please what are our ancestors saying? What words are dribbling from their feeble decayed mouths? Have they expressed happiness? Shock? Wonder?" Chantico sat back in his chair and tried to compose himself. "Or have they grown quiet?"

141

Hi Face wore a crooked smile that tried to appear mysterious and confident instead Chantico looked like a house cat gloated over it's prize. Chantico's black hair was tied back in a top-knot showing a lined forehead and a hair line that was slowly retreating. Malina could see no grey in his hair or eyebrows, but his face bore the lines of one accustomed to worry. He wore jade earrings in both of his ears and was wearing a red plug in his lower lip. The earrings were a familiar trapping of his rank, but the red plug was new.

"Ahh I see you've noticed." CHantico said with a lazy smile. "It's important to me that you understand that you are not as subtle as you think. I can read you. This," he said tapping the red plug in his lower lip, "this is a new designation. It marks me as one of the returned. A member of the first wave, and one whose name is now written in Xolotl's book."

The gall shocked Malina and she met Chantico's eyes with a start.

140

"Greetings Malina." Chantico said as he walked by Malina. Malina listened to the other voices as they faded away from the room. When she heard the door close she lifted her eyes to meet Chantico.

No mention of honourifics of course. I no longer warrant such considerations.

139

All of this still ignored the most puzzling development: where had the power of her ancestors gone? What had Teiuc used? The smoke was still there, always there, pressing down upon her, blocking her from her ancestors and her gods. She could still see them, almost reach out to them and take the power that they offered, but the pressure was too great. She had told herself again and again that she would not try while the smoke remained, but in the darkest depths of the night she often found herself probing against the smoke looking for any weakness. The tests often left her exhausted and unable to rise when her food was delivered the next morning. Still, when her despair was at its height, she would try again.

Too many questions with no answers and no one to ask them of. Malina's world was tightly controlled and she was inching towards her death.

Malina was surprised when the soldier did not lead her down another level to where her cell was located. Instead the pressure on her shoulders directed her past the stairs and towards her old quarters. The room was well lit and had seen few changes since she had been deposed. The Solder kept her to the back of the room and away from the pile of papers on her old desk.

That was different. That's no way to remain in control. Serenity and order should always be the impression given to those you have power over. A messy desk implied disorganization and a lack of attention to detail. Malina knew that people noticed these things unconscious or not.

The sounds of speech and boots behind her. People, men, making their way towards her. Malina could make out the bravado of Chantico's voice. Chantico general of the Vultures, a disagreeable man whose status had risen with that of Teiuc's. A capable and cruel man who led his men through the power of fear.

138

Soon she found herself below deck waiting for her eyes to adjust to the lantern light. Since she was guided she continued to walked not needed to see exactly where she was going. Malina breather deeply through her nose and inhaled the sent of the ship that she had lived on for the last six moons. The scent of the wood, sea, men, lanterns was as familiar as the scent of the eldwine blossoms just after the melt.

"This way Empress." The nameless soldier said guiding her on. The generals took great care in ensuring that Malina had no contact with any person that she might know. Nameless soldier after nameless soldier had guided her in and out of her cell or fed her her meals. Most she didn't see longer then a day or two, a fast rotation. Or they want me on display. Knock me down to the level of a common soldier so that none are impressed by me.

Most of the soldiers only grunted in response to Malina's questions or when they brought her food. She suspected that this was also part of their instructions. They knew that Malina had training in the courtly arts and didn't trust the soldiers. What the generals didn't know, she thought, was how deep of a blow her imprisonment was to that training. What appeared to her to be a complete reversal of her fortunes, and the disloyalty of her entire army questioned everything that she had ever thought and everything that she had ever been taught. Her education on the courtly arts hadn't provided her with the ability to see through the faces of those that she trusted to see the deceit beneath.

137

How long? How deep? Malina thought to herself, not for the first time. How long had the support for her throne been chipped away at? How many people's loyalty was simply a well concealed act? Her network of spies had said nothing of this, not even the slightest hint. Gotochol? Perhaps as deep as the head of that network, It has to be.

Not everyone had been privy to this interpretation of the prophecies, this conspiracy. She had noted the absence of the captain of her ship when she was hauled onto the deck in the fading light of the early evening. It gave her comfort that not all loyalties had been false. Too many were though, too many by far.

Hands on her shoulders, not those of Teiuc for they lacked his roughness, spun her around and began leading her from the upper deck. She could hear Teiuc's voice and that of the other generals as they spoke amongst themselves. Malina watched her feet as they stepped on the rough wood of the ship. A light grey wood, weathered by the salt of the sea and finally grained stood out in contrast with the dirt of her feet. Even at this, her lowest point the dirt on her body still fascinated her, it created a mental dissonance with her past that she had yet to deal with. The incarceration was different, usurpation was always a possibility that was planned and watched for. Something she had never truly taken seriously, yet the importance of being prepared for it had been force on Malina from an early age. But dirt? Finger nails and feet in such a state? Nothing her prepared her for that. Focusing on the dirt helped, it gave her mind something else to consider, and a place to focus her attention. Hardening herself and her outward appearance was made easier when she was able to focus on something other then misery.

136

Malina pulled on her royal training, despite the weeks in the ships holds, the years of previous training were enough. She steadied the trembling in her hands and slowly brought them to her sides. As an almost after thought she straightened her stained red gown. Her face she kept looking at the deck of the ship, not out of deference but out of a desire to not give witness to what Teiuc had wrought.

"Look on your Empress! She represents our past!" Teiuc had let go of Malina's shoulder and was now addressing the soldiers once again. "She is with us, the load stone of our ancestors, the fulfillment of our prophecies. No longer does she rule us, now she serves us. She is our history, through generations of Toltecs, we are bound to our ancient homeland that we have left, and through her blood we will be bound to our new home land, ancient and new the circle will be complete!"

A roar erupted from the soldiers and sailors as Teiuc ended his speech with a scream. Malina felt the waves of excitement emanating from the soldiers as Teiuc had spoken. She could feel it in her own body as well. The prophecies of her people twisted and and wrapped in lies and interpretation. When she had first heard the explanations through dribbles of conversations she was shocked, and then it began to make sense. Teiuc did not seek to block the prophecy, he rose to ensure it's completion. A twisted interpretation serving his ends, and also answering the soldiers wish for glory. She could not argue with the interpretation it balanced itself on a few key points that had bothered historians and priests for generations. And with those few changes Malina was no longer the one to guide the Toltec to victory she was the agents of their destruction. A powerful force that could not be allowed to destroy the Toltecs, but one that was needed to ensure their success. No longer the blood to lead the Toltecs to the alter of the ancients, now her's was the blood to be spilled on the alter of the ancients, the seat of the gods.

135

*9*

Malina looked at the dirt etched into her cuticles. She refused to look up from her hands even as she heard the soldiers cheer. The wind whipped her black hair obscuring her view of her hands for a moment. After the wind died down she was able to see the muddy U's for a moment before a rough hand pulled for forward.

The pull on her shoulder had taken her by surprise and she stumbled forward in the direction she had been pulled.

"Look at your men Empress," Teiuc's voice whispered in her ear. His breath was hot and carried the sharp burn of hard alcohol. "they are proud on this day. We have arrived on the shores of our pre-ancestral home and our victory on this day is complete. The Toltecs are home Empress," The word 'Empress' hissed off of his tongue dripping with derision, "we are home."

134

"I know."

"Will he?"

"I don't know. We have to move though. Your torch won't last forever and we need to find our way out."

"We follow the water." Hallie began walking. "He's heavy in your arms?"

"Yes."

"You leg, is there still pain?"

"Some. Less then before but still pain. Tomorrow is when I'll feel it. And a headache I'd wager. Something close to the morning after the most you've ever drunk. I'll be nothing pretty but I'll survive."

"What do you think tomorrow will be like?" Hallie asked softly.

"I don't know. I think once we get to the end of the this sewer we'll have a pretty good idea. But right now, where I was when all of this happened. I couldn't even guess."

Hallie was silent.

"Hopefully I'll have some boots at least."

133

Orphic said nothing, but the thoughts in his head paused as he thought about her words.

“I think that would help.” Hallie said, “Boots would help you walk.”

“Why are we so calm? I woke up this morning on a beach, and now I’m running through the sewers fleeing the fire that is burning down the only stable home I’ve ever known.” Orphic stopped.

“You mention glory in every minute, but at the same time there is banality. What do you think warriors talk about on the eve of a siege or on the march to war? I don’t doubt what you say of glory, but look at what you say and think of banality.” Hallie deftly shifted the baby and torch between her arms. “We exist in banality, especially in times of stress because there is only one other option. But we use banality to cope.”

“Glory and Banality.”

“Maybe. I’m not sure, in some way my speaking is just banality filling the space because I don’t know what else should be there.”

Orphic looked at Hallie who had stopped walking. She stood straight with the torch pointing towards smooth ceiling of the sewer. A strange blue light reflected off of the water that tricked through the sewer and faintly danced across the ceiling. In the orange glow of the torch Orphic could see the green of Hallie’s eyes. He full red lips that bunched rhythmically, revealing he inner stress. Her face was wet with sweat that had attracted portions of her dark brown hair that had escaped her Skapation coif.

“He’s not waking up.” She said, her eyes staring straight at Orphic as her lips moved.

132

(Note: Published a day late due to some blogger downtime)

The steps down into the sewers were slippery underneath Orphic’s bare
feet. He could feel the moisture squeezing out between his toes as his
weight compressed the moss. The passage way down to the sewers was
narrow so he carried the boy sideways. Hallie held the torch up
towards Orphic giving him enough light.

“Your feet.” The torch made a wooshing sound as she swung it towards
Orphic and pointed it at his feet. “You have no boots. It will be hard
on your feet down here. There are many sharp rocks.” Orphic could hear
her scraping rocks underneath her boots for effect.

“If we live I will gladly pay the price of sore feet.” Orphic was
almost at the bottom of the stairs and could now see the glowing
reflection of the torch in Hallie’s eyes. “Don’t act surprised. You, a
teacher in the temple know a furoo on sight. “Orphic stepped onto the
rocky floor of the sewer and faced Hallie, who had taken a step back
to make room. “It’s all right you know. I was in the temple and I
left. It was a long time ago. The way I live now doesn’t make me
happy, but shame…no. Where I live you can’t feel shame. Too much of
that, shame self-pity, and you’ll be eaten alive. People prey on that.
The evil ones will sense that and eat you alive. So we furoo, we leave
that behind.”

“But the old ones,” Hallie began to walk, “that is where they end up is it not.”

“Where? Shame?”

“Yes, isn’t that where the crumple men live? Ragged, blind drunk,
their eyes seemingly always on the very or tears or rage. Is shame not
their home?”

“It is. But they don’t last long there. They end up there when they
see that it’s ending. Too old for the old games, too old for any of
it. Then they make the mistake of surveying their lives. Of looking
back and trying to figure out what it was all worth, why they existed
in the first place. Then, then they feel shame. But it’s a mistake.”

“I agree, there is no shame in…”

“Not the shame,” Orphic said cutting Hallie off. “looking back on
their lives and expecting meaning. Hoping that old age would take
their life and turn it into some sort of story. A beginning, a middle,
and an end that would somehow lift them above. That is a mistake. If
there is any glory…” Orphic winced as a sharp rock dug into his right
foot. Hallie said nothing and let him continue. “…it’s in surviving.
Surviving when there is none to witness, there is glory in that. You
don’t need a story, life isn’t a story, glory passes by every minute.”

“I still think you need boots.”

131

Orphic tugged on the door ring and the door lifted from the floor with the creaking sound of old wood. The smells of stale air and must wafted up from the dark steps below. He could hear running water as it traveled over stones.

"You'll have to carry the torch Hallie. I won't be much use with the boy in my arms." Without a word Hallie began to make her way out of the room they were in and into the classroom. "Will we be safe down there?" Orphic asked. "If the temple collapses will the sewers hold?"

"The sewers are older than the city." Hallie said, her voice echoing to Orphic from the classroom. "They were originally carved from natural underwater river formations by an ancient culture long before the Tyrants or the Electorate or Cap-Sebastian. It's fascinating really. When the Tyrants were extending the city they discovered the sewers and expanded them to suit their needs. No records or tools remain of the original creators, but the lead engineer for the Tyrants kept a detail log book the still remains in the Library. He believed that the tunnels were expanded by hand over generations." Hallie re-entered the room with a lit torch in her left hand. She walked carefully holding the flame in the air and well away from the infant squirming in her arms. "To think that the construction of something like this would spend generations if amazing to me. I share the late Engineers belief that there must have been some religious need for the tunnels, else why how could the people be convinced to dig them?"

"Maybe their was wealth in the rock?"

"Maybe," Hallie stepped down the stairs and into the sewers. "But such and intricate system for water removal and delivery? Wouldn't they just mine everything if that was the case..."

Hallie's voice was lost to Orphic as it dropped into the tunnels. She's forgotten where she is. She talks for herself now wrapping herself in the trappings of the past. Comfort then can be found.

130

"If none mourn," Orphic said quietly, "perhaps the destruction should not be met with sadness. I won't be sad to see it gone."

"No. More lost knowledge staying lost."

"Hallie, we have to get out of here." The baby started to cry, her screams echoing in the ancient classroom. Hallie stoked the babies head and tried to shush her. "She has good timing that one."

Hallie nodded and continued to shush the baby, and obvious sadness in her sounds. Hallie turned and began to walk towards a small doorway in the back corner of the classroom. She spared a single look for the classroom and then opened the door and stepped through. Orphic followed behind her, the boys weight growing heavier on his arms.

The room that they entered appeared to be a storage closest. Empty glass jars, some broken, seemed to have been placed randomly around the room. Piles of them were in one corner covered in a thick layer of dust and spider webs. In the middle of the floor was a wooden door with a large brass door ring.

"Please, I can't lift it with the baby in my hands. You'll have to put Cyril down. Why hasn't he woken?" Hallie asked almost as though she had spoken her inner thoughts aloud. "It's heavy, but it should open."

"This leads to the sewers?" Orphic asked as he gently placed Cyril down onto an empty area of the floor.

"Yes, waste from the class room, experiments gone wrong, were taken below to be dumped. It makes disposing of dangerous liquid much easier, and safer since one would't have to wander throughout the temple."

129

Braziers of all different shapes and sized filled a shelf that was perpendicular to the table of glass jars. A small table on wheels stood between the braziers and the jars. A glass jar full of a deep purple liquid rested on a wide brazier there. Orphic noted an open book on the table as they passed. The yellowed pages and illuminated image of a massive horse with a skull for a head showed the age of the books. The words were in a language that was unfamiliar to Orphic. There was a diagram on page opposite the hose illustration showed a glass vessel on a brazier that was of a similar shape to the one on the table. Whomever was following the recipe had been careless and had let some of the purple liquid splash onto the books ancient pages.

"The books.."

"Will be destroyed." Hallie finished. "Thousands of years of history will be lost on this night. Knowledge that that Skapatian's kept in the face of the Tyrants and the Electorate but will now lose in the face of the fire. There is nothing to do." Her voice was wistful. "The world turned it's back on this knowledge. Time has passed the order until we were nothing more then a storage facility for the vanity of the rich. Most of the order care nothing for what knowledge is stored within these walls. I was wrong Orphic."

"Wrong?"

"When I said that the knowledge will be lost on this night. The knowledge was already lost. Knowledge must live. Stored knowledge is dead knowledge. What good does it do for an answer to be written in a book when no one knows where they book is. That is this place, an answer to a question that is no longer being asked. Few will the loss of this temple on this day."

128

"My name's Orphic." He said shaking his head remembering social graces.

"Hallie" The woman said softly without turning around.

There was another shudder beneath their feet.

"This way please, we must hurry. I know he is heavy but please." Hallie had stopped with her back facing Orphic. Orphic watched her shoulders sag as she asked him to hurry.

She does not want me here. I intrude on her sleeping mother and she does not like it. I do not like it either sister, the home I leave behind is being destroyed. It doesn't matter what happened, I wouldn't have wished that.

They walked on for a while in silence, the smoke getting thicker and thicker as they went. Finally they came to a door that was covered in rose engravings. Hallie went to the door and opened it. She walked through and held the door open so that Orphic could pass through. Orphic was surprised by what he saw inside, some sort of classroom. The room obviously had not been used to it's full potential in a while but lack of dust in certain areas made it clear that at least a portion of it was actively used. Books lined the walls in bookshelves that stretched from the floors to the ceilings. In addition to those on the shelves books littered the desks, sometimes stacked in piles and sometimes on their own.

One end of the room which obviously had been designed for the teacher had a large desk covered in glass jars. This was the area of the room that was still in use. The glass jars, though seemingly placed in a random sprawl, were meticulously clean. There wore no fingerprints nor any specks of dust to bar the gaze from viewing the multicoloured liquids they held.

127

With that the woman turned and began to walk down the hallway. Orphic followed limping and sweating as he went. The rest was not long enough for him, but given the situation he knew it was all that he would get. Besides the occasional moan the boy in his arms had not moved, and that worried Orphic. He had seen the results of blows to the head before, and generally they were awake after only a few moments. This length of unconsciousness sometimes meant that the person would never wake up.

126

Orphic nodded at the woman and stepped forward slighty, a signal to her that he was ready to carry on.

"Mother doesn't mind me being here?"

"Her slumber is deep. Were she awake you would no longer be breathing."

125

"Sewers?"

"It's the only way out I know. There is an access shaft a little ways from here. If we can get to it we should be able to make our way to the ocean."

"Where is everyone?" Orphic bent down and picked up the unconscious boy. He moaned slightly as Orphic shifted his weight in his arms.

The woman looked at him for a moment, as if realizing for the first time where they were. "These halls remain closed to most. Few feet walk these paths anymore, mother lies sleeping for the time being."

124

"We're under attack." The woman was breathing hard. The baby in her arms had fallen asleep and stirred when she spoke. After turning for a moment the infant's face found the woman's robes and he began nuzzling them before falling asleep.

"Attack? Who's attacking us?"

"I don't know. Ships in the harbour is the rumour. We saw fireballs in the sky before coming in from the terrace."

She sits the orphans. Orphic remembered living with Abelia under Phaidra. The days he spent on the terrace enjoying the summer air before returning to the open air classroom for the days lessons.The terrace was on the roof of one of the temples buildings. It was a beautiful space with a garden full of mature trees. In the centre a repaired female statue threw water into a large pond full of fish and lily pads.

"Where are the rest of the children?" Oprhic asked barely above a whisper.

"Scattered," Pained emotion hung on the woman’s words. "When the bells started to ring we gathered at the railing to see what was happening. Then we saw the fireballs." The woman paused, he eyes far away as she remembered the scene. "The children were scared and they ran. There were only a few sitters teaching that day and we did the best we could. Dividing up into groups of children and tried to herd them as best we could back into the temple. Then the temple was hit and it was as though the spirits from the underworld had been unleashed. Bodies were everywhere, torn apart." The woman paused again and looked at Orphic. Seeing his eyes on her she composed herself and continued. "We got out, Cyril, Eli and I. We were leaving when the way out was blocked before us, that's when we found you."

"Where are we going?"

"To the sewers."

123

"Quickly!" The woman shouted.

"It's my leg." Orphic said with a grunt. "And the furoo he's heavy." Orphic assumed he was shouting, the ringing in his ear was still there but he felt as though his head was starting to clear.

The whit hallway began to curve to the right slightly, and then after a few paces it began to curve to the left in a wide arc. Red doorways began to appear in the white walls as soon as they passed the ninety degree mark of the curve. The doors were pained in the same deep red colour as the ceiling. Their surfaces were carved with intricate depictions of different flowers, each door being devoted to a different variety. The door knobs on each door were made of polished silver, with the face of that doors flower etching into the knob's face.

"I have to stop." Orphic stopped and began to place the boy on the floor. His arm muscles were so fatigued that he almost dropped the boy. Instead he awkwardly dropped the boy's legs to the floor before falling back against the white wall.

"We can't stop. Look at the smoke!" The woman had walked back to where Orphic and the boy were.

Orphic looked into the air and he could see the black smoke filling the air. It's colour a sharp contrast to the white of the walls and floor.

"It's not much further please. Please get up. I know a way out." There was another loud explosion and the temple rocked for a third time. "Please, we can't stay here."

Orphic came to his knees and used the walls to steady himself as he pushed his way to his feet. "What's happening?" Oprhic asked. "I don't have a clue what the fuck is going on anymore."

122

The woman turned the corner and ran halfway down a new hallway pausing at a door halfway to the end. Orphic could tell from her body language that she wanted him to move faster, but he knew it was either the speed he was traveling at or drop the boy. As it was the pain in his right leg was increasing and he knew that he would have to stop soon.

He caught up with the woman and recognized the door that she opened and rushed through, it was the door to the temple of the Mother. An area of the temple sacred to female members of the Skapatian order and forbidden to all males. Though it had been years since Orphic had resided in the temple this level of Skapatian sacrilege surprised him. He could remember staring at the nondescript wooden door as a child. The black velvet curtains behind the door helping to block all but the most slight glimpses within the temple of the Mother.

Orphic shifted the weight of the boy in his arms and began to make his way through the open doorway. He turned his back to the doorway and pushed his way through he velvet curtains in an attempt to avoid getting caught. He emerged from the curtains and turned to find a hallway with a white marble floor and white marble walls. The white was made all the more staggering by the blood red ceiling. A colour so deep and oppressive that with every step Orphic took down the hallway it felt as though the ceiling was coming down upon his head. He began to duck unconsciously hoping to avoid brushing against the paint that reminded him so much of blood.

121

Another explosion rocked the temple sending a spray of grape sized pebbles against Orphic's back. The hallways flooded with grey dust that seemed to block both the eyes and the ears. Suddenly there was a a hand on Orphic's shoulder. He turned to see a woman dressed in red and black robes shouting at him. Orphic couldn't hear her over the ringing in his ears and the sound of the temple being torn apart. He motioned to his ears and shook his head.

"I can't hear you."

The woman shook him and pointed to the ground where a young boy lay unconscious. A young temple orphan, Orphic recognized the look immediately. The woman touched he leg and then tapped Orphic's.

"His leg I understand." Orphic nodded. The woman grabbed the uncontentious boy's armed and struggled to lift him. With a nod Orphic bent to help pick the child up. Orphic lifted the child to his chest, hooking his arms underneath the boy's arms and the crook of the boys knees. He looked at the woman who had let go of the boy and noticed that she carried an infant in her arms. To Orphic's ears the infant was crying silent screams of terror.

"RUN!"

The woman's scream pieced through the layer of wool in Orphic's ears as he watched the woman step over some debris and run down the hallways. With a grunt Orphic began to follow her forwards. His right leg sent waves of pain with every staggering step but he managed to keep the woman in sight.

120

The way forward was blocked, and were he to be able to get through the stones Orphic knew that he wouldn't like what was on the other side. He kicked with his feet, dislodging bodies that groan and stood. Grasping his head in pain he stumbled and fell to the floor like a drunk. This time it was someone else that shoved Orphic off in an attempt to get free. Orphic rolled onto his side, and was able to push himself to his hands and knees.

Others that had been knocked down by the blast were not beginning to rise. Moans or silence came from those that were unable to move. Orphic lurched to his hands and knees and then stumbled to his feet. Dust from the ceiling rained down upon them again as the entire temple seemed to lurch beneath Oprhic's feet. A loud ringing filled Orphic's ears and he fought desperately to think clearly. He felt as though he was viewing the world through a cloud, and try as he might he couldn't quite find any order it in. There was another tremor in the building and Orphic was thrown against the wall. His shoulder hit the wall and his fell forward along it. He managed to maintain his balance and was shielded from some larger pieces of the ceiling that fell.

With a yell Orphic pushed himself away from the wall and began to run down the hallway away from the wreckage. Others were doing the same, most faster than Orphic, whose right leg wasn't working properly. Like a lightening bolt through the cloud Orphic felt the pain in his leg and head. Then the cloud came back numbing everything.

119

The man departed making his way towards the first floor archives. A vague hunch to his shoulders the was familiar to Orphic even though he couldn't place it. Orphic turned from the man and made his way into mass of Skapatians. Panic had set in amongst many of the order, Orphic could see it in their movements. Like the man Orphic had sent to the archives the people moved without purpose. Unsure about which direction their feet should travel. Orphic had no such problems, he was leaving and by the quickest means possible.

Orphic pushed through the river of people as they flowed on either side of him. Jumping from current to current as long as it brought him closer to the exit. He still had no idea where the fire was but the smoke was getting thicker and thicker and the shouts from the people were getting louder and louder. Acolytes were screaming at him, mouths working but Orphic was unable to make out what they were saying against the overall noise.

Suddenly there was a deafening sound and Orphic found himself thrown backwards and to the grown. Bodies fell everywhere around Orphic as he struggled on the floor. His ears were ringing and he shook his head trying to clear his ears. People lay on his lefts and his left side was pinned under another body. He moved the limp body with his right hand and was able to free himself. Orphic sat up, squinting through the dust and wiping what he could away from his eyes. Through the tears forming in his eyes Orphic saw the rubbled where the hallway in front of him had been. Flames licked at the stone and the ceiling timbers.

118

Orphic thought about lying, a simple no to leave this man behind. "Yes. There is much on the lower levels. Hundreds of years of history that has laid untouched for almost as many."

The man stared at Orphic, his hands brushing his soot stained robes. His black eyebrows worked up and down on his forehead as he attempted to make sense of all of the inputs flooding his senses. "We must do something. We must save it. The two of us. You and I we will go down and carry these items up."

The man began to walk passed Orphic using his hands attempting to turn Orphic back down towards the staircase. Orphic grabbed the man's hands at the wrist and said "No", when the man looked at him. "We cannot hope to save it." The man maid to protest his lips moving with no sounds coming out. "There's too much." Orphich tried to reason with the man. "Save what is here first. There are documents."

"Documents?"

"Tithes, donation receipts, prayers. These must be saved."

"Prayers?"

"Records or prayers. The scrolls, the divinations."

"The scrolls!" the man shouted. His eyes opened as though he had been smacked in the face. "We must save the scrolls!" The man moved passed Orphic, away from the stairs and towards the first floor archives. "Come with me we must save the scrolls."

"You go." Orphic said, already edging away from the man in the direction that would take him to the exit.

"But..."

"Go!" Orphic shouted snapping the fear back into the man, a technique that had worked many times with the old furoo who could do nothing more then drown them selves in the dregs of drinks. "I must speak with Salus." Authority. "Please hurry."

117

Orphic made his way to the main floor no longer concerned about being seen. As soon as he came close to the main level he could seem the smoke and hear the people. Members of the Skapatian order were everywhere. Some seemed to be panicking, while others were directing lower members of their order in what appeared to be an attempt to save some of the orders valuable history.

"You there from the lower levels." Orphic turned, realizing that that man was talking to him. "You there," the man walked up to Orphic and stood in front of Orphic blocking his path. He was a tall man wearing a red robe and a black slash. "is there much to be saved in the lower levels?"

Orphic could see the panic in the man's eyes hidden behind a veneer of calm. He was speaking to Orphic as though he was a member of the Skapatian order. The man saw Orphic without truly seeing him, like a fish caught in a tidal pool swimming in circles looking for the deep.

116

He reach the doorway and paused with his hands on the worn wood. He brought his ear close to the door and listened. Between the low sound of the bells he couldn't hear anything else. Orphic slowly pushed the door opened and looked out into the hallway. His eyes blinked at they adjusted to the bright light, wiping away the tears that formed he saw that the hallway was empty.

Orphic made his way into the empty hallway and slowly made his way to the stairs. His goal was to try to find his way out one of the side entrances without being seen. He climbed the stairs up one level and found this hallways to be deserted. Here the bells were louder and he could hear fragments of other sounds coming from above. More dust could be seen piling up on the floor, where it had fallen from the ceiling. The torches in the wall scones swayed in a odd way and Orphic stopped to stare at them for a moment. Something was pulling at his mind, a memory, at hint was held in those torches and his mind struggled to remember.

Then he smelt it, a faint bitter smell that he could feel on the insides of his nostrils. Smoke. Baran! Those are fire bells. Orphic swore as he broke into a loping jog. Shit, the whole fucking place must be burning. Orphic knew that he had to get out of the Sakpatian temple and out of the Old Temple district. The buildings here were too old, too close together, and too run down.

115

Orphic could feel the bells on the souls of his feet and the palms of his hands as he pressed them to the dusty stone floor. Thatarus below, all of Cap-Sebastian must be ringing. It had been generations since all of the bells had been run, something wasn't right. A small bit of loose gravel and dust rained down on the cloth ceiling that a young Orphic had once constructed.

Orphic's mind swam too much had happened that day and he was having difficulty keeping it all together. His mind was racing from one detail to another. Darius, the girl at the market, Abelia, the Sakpatian temple, Salus, the woman, his old hiding spot, and now the bells. He was having difficulty breathing, as though his chest was being pressed in a vice. This wasn't a life, lives did not hang on the edge of decisions. Lives should be sooth, tempered, even. The constant pressure and struggle was too much if there was anything left of the gods or the old gods, surely this wasn't what they meant for people; squeezed to the very point of breaking.

Orphic's hand brushed against the carved wooden warrior Ajax. He picked him up and held him close to his face so that he could make out the rough scratches that were the toy's face. He closed his eyes for a moment holding the toy with both of his hands, almost as though he was in prayer, but his mind was blank. He let go of the day and sought darkness in his mind, emptying his vessel he looked with closed eyes and saw the darkness, black and empty. His ragged breath slowed and the pain in his chest eased. In this he found calm.

Standing Orphic tucked the toy warrior into the worn leather pouch on his belt and began to make his way out of his sanctuary. Somehow he knew that there was a finality in this act, a door closing that he had left opened for too long. He made is was back to the entrance to the room retracing his footprints in the dust.

114

Orphic laid his hand on the statue of the bear and slowly turned the corner, taking care to duck underneath make-shift bridge of cloth he had erected all those years ago. It was dark but there was still just enough light for Orphic to see. He wasn't sure if he should be shocked or not, but everything was still there. The candles, the toy figures, blanket and pillow, all covered in a think layer of dust

Orphic sank to his knees and picked up one of the wooden figures. A toy warrior with a sword and shield. Orphic well remembered Ajax, and the battles they had fought together. Orphic brushed the dust from the warriors rough face and lovingly placed the warrior back on the floor. He squeezed his eye tightly shut as his emotions began to overwhelm him.

Orphic's mind struggled to asses what had happened to him on this day that brought him. He struggled to control his racing heart and mind. Orphic desperatly wanted to find the woman that had spoken to him, but he knew that he couldn't risk leaving his hiding spot now. Salus came to his mind, and Orphic tried to banish thoughts of him. His mentor, his caregiver, what had happened and why? Abelia would be alright, she always managed to keep going in one way or another. Aye, she'll keep going right up until she doesn't.

Orphic sat stairing out into the darkness for a moment, his breath stilling. The silence was nice, he felt safe here, he always had. Then he heard something, it was a low regular sound. A bell. Another sound started up, this one just off the original and slightly louder. Then the bell of the Sakpatian temple began to sound. The sound was muffled three levels below the ground, but loud enough to erase all doubts. The cities bells are ringing?

113

As he neared his destination he began to slow down. His heart was pounding, but he was able to catch his breath as he no longer heard anyone behind him. He had traveled a few levels below ground and was hiding in an old area of the temple that had been used for storage for centuries. When he lived at the temple this area was largely unused and provided Orphic with a place to explore and be on his own. He opened a door and slid through, closing the door silently behind him.

Orphic stood in the dark room for a moment letting his eyes adjust to the low light. There were no torches in the room, but the gaps around the door let enough light from the hallway seep into the room. His memories were enough for him, and he began to make his way forward. Nothing had changes, he scanned the room and it seemed as though even the precarious wooden boxes were in the exact same place they had been when he left. He began to make his way through the stacks of ancient items. Statues, scrolls, chairs, rugs, tables, paintings, all piled and stacked haphazardly.

Orphic was silent as he moved through the stacks. Past the books and through a section that he used to call statute alley, finally arriving at his destination. He closed his eyes at the large statue of the bear, his guardian of old, and held his breath. He hadn't thought about this place in a very long time, and he was not second guessing listening to the gut feeling that brought him here, but he was already feeling the calming affect that this place always had on him.