Trampling in the Land of Woe_Book One of Three

by William Galaini

  “I understand your resentment, and it is natural for one such as you to feel it. But the Provost-General and the Order of the Jesuits are looking to ascend all those we can, and we wish to elevate all of humanity, damned or otherwise, to God’s expected standards of us. We cannot allow our desires to get in the way. We cannot love one man or woman above all others. We all are subject to God’s judgment and will. It is incorrect to toy with such a thing.” When speaking his last sentence, Father Franco stared directly at Hephaestion. “So again, I delight in being able to report to the Provost-General that these two men, two men who have become the stuff of alleyway legend in New Dis, have no intention of violating God’s law.”

  Yitz slowly nodded, deep in thought. “I understand,” he said. “Do you understand, Hephaestion?” He looked into his friend’s unsure eyes, hoping his intention was clear. To an outsider, the rules of New Dis society probably seemed a confusing mess.

  “Well,” Yitz continued casually. “I think both Hephaestion and I would be delighted to offer such a promise, but sadly, it would mean little. See, Hephaestion is a sodomite and I’m a Jew. Our word is nothing to you or your high priest.”

  “Provost-General. Provost-General van der Meer.”

  “That fellow, yes. But we do thank you for coming and eating our food and drinking our wine.”

  “Perhaps I haven’t made your situation clear to you?” Father Franco objected.

  “I do apologize that when you return to your Pope-General that all you’ll have to offer him is your full belly. But it is what it is.” Yitz stood, napkin still tucked under his chin like a stained, ruffled collar a French noble would wear. Striding to the back of the railcar, he swung the door open. “We appear to have a stowaway!” he shouted to the valet.

  Within moments, the large tent filled with valets armed with muskets. Father Franco walked out with his head high.

  “I look forward to discussing this in the future with both of you,” he said during his exit.

  The door shut. Through the windows, Yitz and Hephaestion watched Father Franco be escorted beyond the tent flaps, out of sight, still tall, rigid, and elegant.

  Finally, Hephaestion breathed. “I thought you wanted me to kill him.”

  “Nah. I’ve been wrangling Christians all my existence in one way or another, and he gave away far more than he should have. He’s also low in the order, which means he has more ambition than brains. Men like him think that they will earn Heaven through victory. But he made a good point with his threat regarding The Peruvian.” Yitz picked crumbs from his beard.

  “How so? That The Peruvian might think you and I planned your wager?”

  “Yes. Stranger things have happened.”

  “The Peruvian doesn’t need to believe it; he just has to make his cohorts believe it. If he convinces everyone that you and I staged the whole thing—”

  “He will cease payments…and worse. Yeah, that is occurring to me.”

  “Will Adina be safe while we are gone?”

  “She’s with her friends. I think she’s safer with them than The Peruvian is in his tiny fortress, honestly. But not having the money will be difficult. Oh well. We’ll see what happens. I’ve learned to let the game ride a bit before reacting.”

  Yitz plunked back down into his chair to continue his meal. “You should eat.” He motioned. “Like I was saying in the carriage: don’t deny yourself some comfort. While we don’t need food, it does make us stronger and anchored to our bodies. If I were you, I’d take advantage of every chance you have to sleep, eat, and drink properly. If you are to make it to my boy, you’d better.”

  The two men ate silently as Yitz’s mental gears cranked away regarding his potential situation with The Peruvian. The wine in their glasses began to ripple and the tassels dangling from the curtains jostled.

  “Oh, I want to show you something!” Yitz bounded out of his chair and pulled the curtains up. Through the windows, Hephaestion saw that the large tent had been partly peeled away, and in stomped two fiery mechanical beasts.

  “What…what are those?” he gasped. “I’ve never seen…” Both four-legged beasts looked like they were forged from metal bones and plates, a fire bellowing inside their chests with flames licking through their steel ribs. “They look like headless oxen!” In place of a head, a driver sat between the machine’s shoulders, operating levers and pedals to steer.

  “Railroads back on Earth have bulls to pull the railcars into position. Here, people built these things. Back on Earth steam engines are strong, but with Hell’s fire, such engines here are limitless.”

  Rail hands linked the locomotive’s large chains to the bull’s yokes, and with a lurch, the two smoking beasts towed Hephaestion and Yitz’s railcar clear of the tent. Not even a drop of wine was spilt.

  “Amazing,” Hephaestion marveled as his view expanded beyond the canopy of Chinese lanterns and into the rail yard. Hundreds of identical cars shifted and joined them, pulled by similar bulls, while large black steam engines hissed into position. A giant chrome skull endorsed the front of each engine, each sculpted into the metal with a different expression. Some skulls looked playful while others looked stoic or cruel.

  Their car was soon linked into another, and then another, and soon an entire train was built and hitched to the back of an engine. “I wonder what face our train is making?” Hephaestion mused.

  “We can check once we arrive, but I strongly advise not leaving the car at any stop, and if anyone comes to the door, I suggest we do not answer it,” Yitz warned.

  Hephaestion nodded in agreement, and soon after, a tall, white obelisk in the distance caught his attention. Standing high above the warrens of New Dis, the rising fog and smoke from the city obscured it somewhat. But there was no avoiding its dominating, pale presence.

  “What is that structure? It looks Egyptian,” Hephaestion said.

  “That is The Clock. Much older. Most people think it was built by the first humans to occupy the afterlife, and they wanted a way to figure out how long they had been here. Under it is a series of smooth, carved caverns that pipe geothermal steam from fires below. You can’t see from here, but each section of it rotates at a set rate. There are markings on the sides, so once you learn its system, you can tell how much time has passed since its construction.”

  “How much time, then?”

  “It’s been operating some 46,000 years. Granted, no one knows how long it took to build, and whoever built it isn’t talking or around, it seems. Some say the engineers and workers that built it went into the caverns below and incinerated themselves. It’s rumored that whenever they reform, they just do it again and again.”

  “For oblivion?”

  “Seemingly. Perhaps it is the only way they can find true rest.”

  Pondering for a moment, Hephaestion continued, “So it is more of a calendar than a clock?”

  “Maybe. The way it is built, it goes up to one million years. Rather optimistic, if you ask me. God might be sick of our mewling souls and wipe us clean from the afterlife by then and start fresh with some other type of life.”

  The two men sat at the table and chatted away as the train moved and reached full speed. They discussed the city in detail and its intricacies. Servants came to their car and cleared the table, provided more wine, and Yitz tried teaching an inebriated Hephaestion poker.

  “This game is just lying.” Hephaestion laughed. “You juss use ratios to your advantage and lie and win.”

  “You don’t like it?” Yitz asked, his voice without a slur since he could hold his alcohol.

  “No, I love it. Is political. We used to play a game of dice like this. Wooden or ivory or bone dice. Ish was a great game of lying.”

  “Just like life!” Yitz announced, glass raised.

  “Just like life!” Hephaestion replied in same.

  Yet another thing
about New Dis interested Hephaestion. Yitz had explained that for the past fifteen hundred years, New Dis had been a dictatorship after the old oligarchy fell into chaos. The new leader was a man named Sun Tzu.

  “So, tell me more about thish Sun Tzu. He was an oriental general?”

  “Ah, the mysterious Sun Tzu. Well, when he moved in and took over, it was during the Oligarchy Civil War. See, New Dis has no standing army because who would invade Hell? So the whole thing had turned into a horrible brawl in the streets, and buildings were being burned, and hearts were being gathered and jarred for ransom. It was just bad. This was before Adina and I were ever here.

  “The story from some who remember is that Sun Tzu started gathering crowds of random people and helping them form regiments and pike lines to defend their streets. Eventually whole sections of the warrens were safe for business and shelter and sleep again. The various wards and enclaves of different nations calmed down, let go of the oligarchs they had aligned themselves with, and everyone started following his orders.

  “He built a sizable militia, too. Sent them after the oligarchs, and once he had jarred the last of their hearts, he vanished. He still rules, though. There are buildings all over New Dis you can go to in order to speak to his representatives, but no one knows where he lives or rules from. Some say he wanders the streets as a homeless man, or he’s even a shape shifter. But when you hear about an assassination of a cruel baron or a certain overly ambitious guild’s hall burning to the ground we all know it was by his ruling. His militia still keeps order.”

  “Would he stop the Jesuits if they got too strong?”

  “Presumably, but whatever he considers ‘too strong’ is beyond anyone but God. I will say that some groups of people tend to find their taxes suddenly lax, or maybe their shop receives a sudden and mysterious boost in business. He’s always pulling strings behind the scenes, keeping certain groups in balance while off-balancing others. He’s a shrewd, shrewd presence that seems to have no interest in the glory of leadership.”

  “That…that wasn’t my Alexander at all!” Hephaestion laughed.

  “Oh?”

  “Alex was great, in that he would honor the local custom and dress of every territory we entered. He embraced it, so each new territory was a whole new set of rituals and parties and weddings among the men with the local daughters. At every party, he was front and center laughing and dancing and kissing people.”

  “Sounds like a bit of an untamed man.”

  “Oh, he was. Untamed.” Hephaestion’s smile faded. “And he’ll run untamed again. Soon.”

  Yitz sighed heavily. “I want you to remember what I said in that stage coach, especially when you are down there.”

  “I will, and maybe there is more truth in it than I’d like to admit. But I won’t forget your boy. I promise.”

  With that, Yitz folded out his bed from the wall, sheets of silk and fine-threaded cotton calling to him. Hephaestion blew out each oil lamp, dimmed the stars overhead with the control on the wall, and sat in the wingback chair, watching the landscape roll by.

  Chapter 15

  Hephaestion wondered that he had traveled so far so quickly. He surmised that trains had changed the living world.

  “Could you imagine the supply lines with these? The logistical advantages?” His head swam with possibility.

  “I’ve heard that the current war on Earth uses trains, some even have cannons on them that fire when stationary to destroy cities,” Yitz replied, stretching from his rest. “We’ve gone about two hundred and forty leagues by now, so our stop is coming up soon.”

  The station itself was as long as the train and built of hard, baked clay. Upon closely inspecting the walls, Hephaestion could see the palm prints of those who molded its subtle lines and sloping angles. It reminded him of the structures of small hamlets that welcomed the Companions on their trek east. Perhaps the Songhai people will welcome him in the same manner?

  Hephaestion placed his own palm into a print of another in the wall. Would he have been a molder of walls if he hadn’t been Alexander’s companion? Certainly there would be no glory in it, but as Hephaestion appreciated the structure’s tall windows and domed ceilings, he could see the pride in the craftsmanship.

  “You’re like a child,” Yitz said. “Just have to touch everything.”

  “It makes it real.”

  “Well, the Queen we’re about to meet is real. Don’t touch her, for God’s sake. We had to dedicate some serious money to one of her expeditions to earn this little privilege. If we fund her people going down there, we get to see some maps.”

  “Does that mean I’ll have to travel with others?” Hephaestion asked.

  “No, no. Look, you just keep not talking, and I’ll handle the rest.”

  Two rickshaws, their canopies hung with blue patterned silks for privacy, stood waiting for them. Both runners were tall, black men of statuesque physique, muscles oiled and adorned with elegant gold bands around their wrists and necks. Each had short swords at their sides.

  They bowed. Yitz gave a wave and climbed in while Hephaestion made certain to return their bow in equal measure.

  Not a single bump in the road reached them through the seat cushions as the runners hauled their passengers without interruption. The crowds parted as soon as they heard the tiny bells lining the canopy.

  Through the silk veil Hephaestion evaluated the people of Songhai and found them to be tall with strong faces and magnificent color. Some wore vibrant clothing that covered them from head to foot with the most dizzying patterns, while others wore little but a belt and loincloth as they moved about, laughing and chatting. They were an emotive people, hands pantomiming ideas and feet always shuffling. There was less conservation of movement here, fewer cars, and not a guard in sight.

  Under bridges of brick and through narrow streets of windows and dangling onlookers, they rode until two enormous gates ushered them inside. Throngs of people bustled in and out, crowded shoulder-to-shoulder, but again the tiny chiming of the rickshaws’ bells divided the crowd. No one gawked or pointed or whispered, they simply shifted undeterred from their conversations and activities.

  They entered into a large courtyard, where statues of great heroes and paragons waited for visitors to examine and honor them. Passing under each one, Hephaestion wondered which were royalty from the Queen’s lineage.

  Soon they entered an antechamber of white stone with tiny flowing channels of water under their feet, cooling and ionizing the chamber’s air. The veils lifted, and their escorts helped Hephaestion and Yitz to their feet and led them toward a small alcove. In the center was a round table at which their guides directed them to sit. Squeezing in, Hephaestion and Yitz took seats across from each other, Yitz still clinging to his travel bag.

  Both runners bowed and departed, leaving Yitz somewhat dismayed.

  “So, we’re in a tiny booth. And I have my toothbrush. I’m not sure what happens next. She might be busy, so we may have to wait for—”

  Suddenly, with the sound of grinding stone gears, the entrance to their alcove sealed up into a stone wall. Trapped, the sensation of movement forced Yitz to grip his bag harder as Hephaestion clung to the table.

  The opposite wall of the alcove shifted away, and the grinding noise stopped. They stared into a domed chamber lit by torches and magnifying mirrors along the walls. The room formed a half-sphere, its perfect curved walls depicting a mural of Purgatory. As the mural stretched to the very top of the room, the paint faded to white, the gentle glow of dangling oil lamps illuminating the pale surface.

  Hephaestion stepped out of the alcove first. His feet landed on what looked like a tiny, tiled representation of a Chinese Castle. Tiny buildings and streets covered the floor, and to his left and right, small cathedrals and towns and railroad yards and even miniature Zeppelins populated the roads.

  “Stay
where you are, and I will guide you to me,” announced a rich, feminine voice from the throne defining the center of the room. Slim and angular, the chair’s only distinguishing features extended high into the air: large, black wings fashioned into its back. The broad expanses cast long shadows over the throne’s occupant, obscuring her face.

  Yitz stepped up beside Hephaestion. “Well, here we go,” he whispered.

  “Currently,” she began, “you are standing in the Chinese district. To one side are the Germans and the Gauls, and, if you look on the other side, you’ll see Indus. Take a moment to orient yourselves.”

  As she explained this, Hephaestion discovered that the room’s floor formed a series of concentric rings, each one modeled after a level of Hell, and each lazily rotating against each other at varying speeds.

  This was their map. Hephaestion’s realization arrived on the heels of his next: Hell couldn’t be easily mapped due to its ever-changing, clockwork landscape.

  “Now step forward, both of you,” she commanded.

  They obeyed, the next circle revolving counter-clockwise.

  “Currently, you stand in the mists. This ring is filled with those so sexually obsessed that all they craved were the baser sensations of the flesh. They had forsaken their humanity in pursuit of such and are reduced to ghostly vapors clinging to a cliff face that leads to New Dis.”

  Hephaestion and Yitz stared at their toes, seeing wailing faces subtly carved into the surface.

  “Forward once more, gentlemen,” she urged. The next ring spun much faster, and its white and jagged surface tricked their balance. “You stand on the gluttons, those who gathered or destroyed food. People who denied food as a weapon against rival tribes or cultures are found here.”

  Hephaestion knew this particular practice well. A sieged city might resort to cannibalism, or, at the very least, anyone within its walls that appeared well fed soon found their throat slit and food stash stolen. When sieging a city, starvation was a far more effective weapon than any catapult.