Paragaea

by Chris Roberson

  By the end of their fourth day of traveling, they came within sight of the coast, and Leena got her first glimpse of Masjid Empor.

  Masjid Empor was a city of contrasts, a gateway, a place of the borderlands. Not only did it straddle the border between the scorching deserts to the north and the crystal-blue waters of the Inner Sea to the south, but between the young Sakrian cultures to the west, and the older cultures to the east—the Nonae, and the scattered remains of the Parousian Dynasty, and the Sabaean culture of which Masjid Empor was the northernmost outpost. Even the ancient culture of Keir-Leystall, toward which they were bound, lay beyond Masjid Empor to the east.

  Unlike the cities of the Sakrian plains, with their multistory buildings, Masjid Empor was low and wide, with only the calif's palace and the minarets of the temples rising up above the skyline. The rest of the city rose little more than two stories tall, with canopies hanging out over every door and window to increase the available shade, and wide thoroughfares that radiated out from the shore like spokes, to extend the cool breezes off the waves as far as they would travel. Only the poorest dwelt in the quarter farthest from the seashore, on the desert side of the city, where the heat seemed to rise up off the sands like air from an open oven.

  It was in this quarter that the company found lodging.

  “I've seen enough of deserts,” Balam complained. He stood on the balcony, beneath the sheltering shade of the canopy, looking out on the endless desert stretching before them. They were on the second floor of a building at the far edge of the city, with nothing between them and the desert but a low wall. Evidently, the city builders had not feared invasion from the land side, and fortifications were negligible. “Couldn't we spend a little more for a seafront view? It's just for a few nights, at most.”

  They had rented out a suite of rooms that shared a common area and a bathing room. The common area opened onto the balcony, through which nothing but sand was visible.

  “If it's only for a few nights, you can stand the heat a while longer,” Hieronymus replied, stretched out lengthwise on a settee. “We need the money for our passage and, besides, we'll be on the waves soon enough.”

  “More's the pity,” Balam said, shaking his head. “I much prefer watching waves to riding them.” He looked with deep apprehension over at Benu and Leena, who sat on matched chairs at the far side of the common area, their packs at their feet. “Are you sure we can't just ride on to Parousia, and the oracular forests beyond?”

  “You were right, Hero.” Leena's mouth curled in a mocking smile. “He is afraid of the water.”

  Benu looked at Balam, curious, and in all seriousness said, “Is this the result of some childhood trauma, perhaps? Phobias are typically the result of early imprinting, of incidents that occur in adolescence and which the psyche is not developed sufficiently to process.”

  “It's not a phobia!” Balam shouted. “I just…I just don't like the water, all right? I just really don't like the water. I don't need a reason, do I?”

  “In point of fact,” Benu said, “an irrational fear or dislike is the very definition of a phobia.”

  “I'm going to take a bath,” Balam said dismissively, crossing to the entrance to the bathing chamber. “You lot can keep your amusements to yourselves.

  “I'm just glad he's not afraid of the water in there,” Leena said.

  “Though from the smell of him, you wouldn't know it,” Hieronymus said, waving a hand before his face, his nose crinkling comically.

  “I wouldn't be so quick to point out the Sinaa's odorous qualities, Hieronymus,” Benu said. “You have yourself been emitting a somewhat pungent aroma these past weeks.”

  Hieronymus sniffed experimentally under his arm, and then jerked back his head in alarm.

  “Dear god, what a stench. Baths for everyone before we take another step.”

  “But I'm next up,” Leena said, jumping out of her chair and snatching up her pack. “Bad enough I'm forced to clean jaguar fur out of the tub before cleaning myself, I'll not contend with your grime as well.”

  Within the hour, once the sopping jaguar man had been driven from the bathing chamber, Leena luxuriated in the tiled tub. She'd not had a proper bath in ages. The best she'd managed since leaving Laxaria had been a few moments to sponge herself off in the privacy of the water closet aboard the Rukh. Thereafter, she'd been forced to make do with quick dips into rivers, ponds, and streams, having to keep a sharp lookout for snakes, leeches, or any other aquatic or amphibious predators—reptile, mammal, dinosaur, or otherwise—and usually in full view of the men. This was the first time she'd been able to shut a door behind her, strip out of her well-traveled clothes, and soak in a hot tub in long months.

  Leena rested her head on a cushion at the tub's edge, her eyes closed. She breathed slowly in and out through her nose, her mouth curled in a contented smile. She felt better than she had in a longer time than she could recall. The hot water of the tub, laced with oils and perfumes, soothed her aching muscles, and the fact that they would soon board a ship that would carry them to the one place that might hold the answer to her return home helped calm her thoughts.

  Leena was teetering on the edge of sleep when the door opened. Too relaxed to be startled, Leena rolled her head to the side and languorously opened her eyes. Hieronymus stood at the threshold, a clean set of clothing folded in his arms, his eyes wide.

  “Ex-excuse me.” Hieronymus blushed, and averted his eyes. “I—I thought you were done in here, and already in your room.”

  He turned to leave, his shoulders hunched and head low.

  “Hold a moment, Hero,” Leena called after him. “There's something I wanted to ask you. But first…”

  She stood up from the tub, the water sluicing off her bare skin. Suddenly exposed to the cooler air, her nipples stood erect, the areolas dark against the smooth white skin of her breasts. Leena put her hands on her hips, and cocked her head to one side.

  “Why are you so embarrassed to see my nakedness? I've been disrobed in your company any number of times in our travels together.”

  Hieronymus tried to keep his gaze fixed on the ceiling, but his eyes kept flicking to her chest, to the curve of her hips, to the thatch of hair between her legs. His face flushing red, he shifted uncomfortably. “Well, that is…You see, when we are in the wilds, and circumstances demand, your nudity seems functionary, merely a practical concern. Here, though…” He gestured around them. The inn was inexpensive, but the bathing chamber was no less opulent for its affordability. “Within doors, such a state seems terribly intimate, and I can't help but feel as though I am intruding on your privacy.”

  Leena stepped dripping out of the tub and, wrapping a thick linen towel around herself, perched on the edge of the tub. “If I should live to be a hundred years old, I'll never understand the opposite sex.”

  “Then we have that in common,” Hieronymus said with a weary sigh. He turned back towards the door. “I'll leave you to it.”

  “No,” Leena called after him, “that wasn't the question which I wanted to ask.”

  Hieronymus set his clothes down on a low table, and leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “I wanted to ask you about…well…I couldn't help but notice that your mood has been rather dark this past week or more. It is as though some nightmare of tortured sleep has clung to you throughout the daylight hours. You seem often sullen and withdrawn, and when you do smile or jest, it seems almost forced, as though you are trying to compensate for something. What is troubling you?”

  Hieronymus took a deep breath, and paused before answering. “Perhaps some elements of Benu's story, related to us en route, reminded me of things in my own past of which I am not proud.”

  “I thought as much.” Leena nodded. “All of us have done things which we later have cause to regret. But circumstances force our hand, and we do what we must to survive.”

  “Perhaps,” Hieronymus said. “Or perhaps some of us are merely weak
, and given to succumbing to our darker natures, without the influence of others to keep our feet on the appropriate path.”

  Hieronymus crossed to the shuttered window, and looked down through the slats to the street and the desert beyond. He seemed pained, as though haunted by some memory he could not escape.

  “What happened to you, when last you were in Masjid Empor?” Leena asked.

  Hieronymus grimaced, and turned his back on her. “It was simply a…business opportunity that went awry. I would imagine the locals might not look back too fondly on that time, as indeed I don't myself.”

  Leena stood and took a step forward, reaching out a tentative hand to touch his shoulder. But in the instant before her fingers made contact, Hieronymus whirled, a smile forced onto his face.

  “But enough of the gloomy past,” he said. “Masjid Empor is a marvelous metropolis, the jewel of the Inner Sea's eastern shore, and we've nothing to gain from staying indoors and moping. Let's see a bit of the town before we set sail for Parousia, and beyond that the forests of Keir-Leystall.”

  “And beyond that, Earth?”

  “And beyond that, Earth,” Hieronymus said, taking Leena's hands in his. “With any luck, we'll have you home in a trice.”

  With her hands in Hieronymus's, her arms lifted and her towel slipped off, falling to the ground. Hieronymus looked down, standing only centimeters away from her naked form, and his face flushed even redder than before. After a long, awkward pause, he dropped Leena's hands as though they were hot rocks, rushed to the door, gathered up his clothes, and scuttled out into the common area.

  “I'll just get dressed, then, shall I?” Leena called through the open door, a smile on her lips.

  The company, at last refreshed, bathed, and dressed in clean clothing, set out into the streets of Masjid Empor. It was late afternoon, and the sun had just begun to set over the Inner Sea.

  “We'll find the most likely vessels this way, I believe.” Benu walked up the street quickly, with a purpose.

  “What is your rush, Benu?” Hieronymus called after him.

  Benu paused in his tracks, and turned around, a confused expression on his unmarred features. “Are we not bound for the waterfront, to seek passage on a southbound ship?”

  “We are bound for the waterfront, perhaps,” Hieronymus answered, “but not yet to seek passage. In time we will. But first, we've needs to fulfill, even if you don't. I was anxious about returning to Masjid Empor, but I find now that having arrived, and walked once more these welcoming streets, I worried needlessly.”

  “I'm hungry,” Balam said.

  “You are always hungry,” Benu answered.

  “No, I'm frequently hungry. I could always eat, but I am not always hungry. Now, however, I am hungry.”

  “And I could use a drink,” Leena said.

  “As could I,” Hieronymus answered with a will. “And I believe I recall just the place in which we can fulfill all of our purposes. This way.” With that, he took Leena by the elbow and strode down the avenue, leaving Balam and Benu to follow behind.

  Hieronymus led the company through the wide avenues of the city, and as they progressed they felt the heat of the desert at their backs slacking, and the cool breeze off the waves slowly building, cool caresses on their sun-scorched faces. The avenues ran straight down to the sea, and through the milling crowds and overhanging awnings, Leena could catch postage-stamp glimpses of brilliant blue. Above the babble of voices she could hear the slow susurration of the waves lapping against the shore, and the distant call of seabirds.

  When they were a few blocks away from the waterfront, Hieronymus stopped short in front of an unimposing structure. The canopy over the low doorway was tattered and bleached with age, and the room beyond the entrance was dark and gloomy.

  “This has all the earmarks of a dive,” Balam said guardedly.

  “Right you are, my furry friend,” Hieronymus said with a smile. “And this particular dive serves the best dinner you'll find in all Masjid Empor. And Leena will be happy to know that they've got the finest selection of spirits I've seen this side of Elvera.”

  “So what are we waiting for?” Leena said, heading towards the door. Balam followed close behind, licking his black lips.

  “Benu, will you join us for some refreshment, or will you hurry yourself on to the waterfront in search of transport?” Hieronymus laid a comradely hand on the artificial man's shoulder.

  “I suppose, if you don't feel there's any especial hurry,” Benu said, following the others inside, “that there is no reason I can't rest myself with you.”

  Leena had located the company a table near the center of the room, and as Hieronymus joined them, there came a shout from across the room.

  “You!” A man dressed in the fine robes of a merchant, his beard oiled and trimmed, pointed directly at Hieronymus. His eyes wide, he jumped to his feet, almost overturning his table, and rushed frantically out the open door.

  “What was the matter with him?” Leena said, turning towards Hieronymus.

  Hieronymus did not answer, but shifted uncomfortably, his expression dark.

  “He seemed to recognize you,” Benu said unnecessarily.

  “Just what did happen the last time you were in Masjid Empor, Hero?” Balam asked, arching an eyebrow.

  At that moment, nearly a dozen of the local constabulary rushed in through the open door, scimitars drawn and expressions fierce. They ringed the table in steel, shouting in thickly accented Sakrian for the company to remain seated and immobile.

  Hieronymus scowled. “Something bad,” he answered.

  Balam started to rise to his feet, his claws extending.

  “Hold,” Leena said in a harsh whisper. “In such close quarters, with the numbers so far out of our favor, our chances of escaping without injury are slim. Besides, where are we to go, back into the desert?”

  “Not the desert,” Balam growled under his breath. “I just had to wash sand out of holes I didn't know I had.”

  “Perhaps we'd best go along with the gendarmes,” Benu said, “and see what the fuss is about.”

  Balam and Leena nodded. Hieronymus didn't make a sound, immobile in his chair.

  “Where are you staying in the city?” one of the constables asked Leena as he bound her hands behind her with a stout cord. The gem affixed to the front of his turban, and the deference with which the other constables treated him, picked him out as the leader.

  Leena gave him the location of the inn, and the names under which they were registered, and the constable sent one of his subordinates to fetch their things.

  “What is this about, anyway?” Leena asked, craning her head around. With his dark features and trim beard and mustaches, the constable presented a dashing figure, and Leena was surprised and a little ashamed that she found him considerably attractive.

  “The magistrate will explain the charges against you and the punishment to be meted out when you appear before the tribunal.” The constable checked her bonds, and then moved on to secure Benu's hands behind his back.

  “Don't you mean if we are found guilty?” Leena said.

  The constable looked over at Leena, a confused expression on his face. “What do you mean, if? Your trial was held nearly a decade ago, and the ruling and sentencing phase concluded soon after.”

  “But we've never even been to your city before,” Balam objected, his fangs bared.

  “Perhaps not. But he has”—the constable pointed at Hieronymus—“and the verdict carries to any who travel in his company.”

  The company was led through the city streets, through milling crowds that parted reluctantly for the constables, but who whispered eagerly behind their hands when they were passed word of who the four prisoners were. Leena could not pick out any words from the babel of voices, none of them speaking any language she knew. Whatever their meaning, it was clear that the crime of which Hieronymus was accused, and which they all now stood guilty, was infamous.

  Up the avenu
es, away from the waterfront, and across town to the city's center, where they came to a stout building that squatted like a predator amongst the less-imposing structures around it. Its crenellated battlements rose like stone teeth, and as they passed through the archway into its dark interior, Leena felt as though she were being swallowed whole.

  The cell was small, no more than four meters on a side, with three walls of stone and one of ancient ironwood bars. A low shelf ran along the three stone walls, and a small window high overhead offered the only illumination. There was a drainage hole in the center of the floor, apparently the only concession to plumbing and biological requirements, to judge from the rank smell emanating from it.

  “Paris of the Inner Sea's eastern shore, eh?” Leena said, wrinkling her nose and trying to find a comfortable sitting position on the shelf.

  Across a narrow passageway was another identical cell, which held two prisoners. One was an indistinct figure wrapped from head to toe in damp robes, with only black eyes peering out between folds of cloth. The other was a fierce-looking, muscular woman, her light hair cropped short, with a smoldering gaze and a symbol carved into her left cheek, a figure X framed on three sides. Her skin was the color of wet sand, and her eyes were light beneath knitted brows. Her clothing consisted of hardened leather and straps, with a kind of cuirass of shaped leather, a heavy apron, and greaves on her shins and bracers on her forearms.