Red World Trilogy

by V. A. Jeffrey

  “Your scar. How did it happen?” Yemi looked at Mother Berenice. Mother Berenice had listened quietly to all this and did not interfere. She remained silent still.

  “I was in Yallas-of-the-Valley, purchasing spices at a merchant's stall. It was night. Men came that night looking for human sacrifices, posing as mendicants of some minor temple. I will not go into detail as later you may come to know many terrible things done for blood-thirsty gods, if you live long enough. There were many fresh corpses that had been thrown down the steps of the temple already when I was taken there. It was horrifying and the same was done to me. But men found me, men from a far away land and they were on a mission, I found out later, to save many people who had been taken.”

  “But how did you survive that?”

  “You see, there was a moment when my whole soul cried out to any god who would listen, a deep soul cry that is difficult to explain, born of terror and agony when you are given up, the moment before you die. I believe He heard my distress and His power kept me alive, a sort of half-death for a little while. It is a terrible experience for you can feel the pain of your heart being taken from you, torn out. These men took those of us they thought they could still save and with their skill of healing and wondrous machines they gave us new hearts.” At this he opened his shirt tunic again and just beside his scar with the skin stitched together like a bad patchwork quilt he opened a large flap of tough skin. Just below the flap of his breast she could see an odd, red thumping thing; a hole was in his chest with a criss-crossing of glowing tubes of blood and attached therein, a metal thing. His heart. It frightened her. She started to wonder if he was cursed.

  “It is not demonism or witchcraft little one, but high medicine. From men of the Far Eastern lands. People demonize the wrong things today. There are times I feel as if people who see my new heart feel that I should have died instead of being saved by a machine. I am a freak of nature. Sadly, among many of my own people I have become an object of reproach. They fear me and say that I have a demon. So, I travel constantly these days. Always I am looking for those whose minds are open.” The tone in his voice had changed from animated to pensive.

  “What is that?” She whispered.

  “A machine heart. The first of its kind, I am told.” Anet was astonished at this revelation for the entire day and this finally rendered her speechless. She remained silent, thinking of all he said. He was saved from a demon by a machine. But did not God save? Why did He not simply make him a new heart? She would have to ask Mother Berenice because this confused her. Still, he was fascinating and did not seem daunted by the terrible thing done to him. He fought to survive and he was not bitter nor did she hear him curse the gods or the First Pillar for this. Was this the strength Mother Bernice said was needed for the faithful? How could she be strong like that? She would pray for strength like Yemi's in tonight's prayer. She would also pray that horrible things would not happen to her or the people she loved and hoped God listened. She was quiet that evening as they broke for camp, as the wild rams grunted and lept upon the crags on far away hills and cliffs in the distance. It reminded her, distantly, of the blowing of the horns for Night Prayers back home.

  They slept under the vast sky full of stars glittering like precious jewels. There were the soft grunts of the camels and asses, a few whistling calls between the guides getting ready for the first watch and the flickering, licking blossoms of the fire. They ate dried meat and bread, drank water and a hole was dug away from camp for toilet. After eating and relieving themselves they all went down for sleep. Anet watched as Yemi and a few of the men took the first watch. She had seen and learned many things that could not be learned from books, scrolls, tablets and idle gossip. She had once heard of machines or the “tinkering things”, as Instructress Helga called them, here and there. Most people looked upon them with disdain, even as an evil. Once she thought she saw a tiny, tinkering bird of gold in Mother Berenice's study room. It had flown in with a message, a duty usually reserved for falcons. But it was gold like precious jewelry with little sapphires for eyes. A marvelous thing! It had a tiny perch in a small golden cage in the study. She never told Mother Berenice that she saw it. Most people did not like these things, seeing them as evil magic but the scions did not see them as such. Only Helga, who came from the very lands that some of these things were still known to be built, disapproved of them. Not because of evil magic but because she said they made people lazy. And that they were extraordinarily expensive.

  “I have seen many a man become soft and fat as a pregnant woman using all manner of machines, until his own godly-made machine could not work any longer. A shame for a man to forget himself so! They cost many a copper that could be put to better use!” Anet could hear her stern, scolding voice in her head. Instructress Helga had said that people began to dislike them because during the Veiled Age, at the height of their use, they made people not want to work and some of their uses enslaved innocent people and this fact morphed, told and retold through the ages, was finally twisted into the saying: “Machines are the works of demons and monsters who want to enslave and destroy their fellow man.” Instructress Iddina also defied this superstitious reasoning. She said that the machines themselves were not wrong but it was how they were used that became wrong. Much like a machete, a sword or even a ship, a machine was a thing, not good, not wicked. Each could be useful for good purposes or used for evil ones. In fact, there was an old scroll that Iddina once read to her and the other young sisters. A crumbling thing now gone to ash it was so old, but it was about the first Red King and the great inventions people made during his reign. But it was only one scroll. One of the scribal scions made a permanent copy of it on clay tablets. Most information about the Red Kings and the things they did was forbidden in Hybron. Knowledge of them had been destroyed by the Ainash and also the priests of the temple of Hec. Sometimes Anet thought the Red Kings were a fairy tale but the holy book itself mentioned them and even a few of these kings put their own writings in the Holy Aishanna. And only the scions she was told, had the entire Aishanna of God. Most others of the faith only had parts of it, the “proper” parts. Anet felt her eyes finally growing heavy with sleep and she finally fell asleep into dreams. Dreaming of that strange, metal beating heart surrounded by waves of blood as high and violent around her as a stormy sea and out of these the strange man on the voyage rose with robes as white and bright as stardust, riding the great golden ship with silvery sails and he had the look of the sons of the gods and he reached out his hand to her but she grew afraid and did not reach for it but drew back and found herself drowning.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The herald gazed at her intently and then back at the letter. Was this letter from the king or was this woman lying? He needed to know, yet all of this had erupted at such a terrible time. The king would be enraged no matter how this would come out. Still, Lady Diti was not known to cause controversy. Perhaps the woman was misguided?

  “I am on my way to meet with the king. I shall take it to him myself. We will see what he makes of all this.”

  “I thank you, Master Caina. Please, let only the eyes of the king see this letter and no one else, and keep a strong guard about you until the letter is delivered to the king, along with my message.” Master Caina readied himself and his men and they left the city to rejoin the royal procession. Before leaving, he made sure to have the King's Guard quell the riots and mayhem by standing in the square and reminding them that the king and his new bride and his army and her family's army were only hours from the city. This threat finally calmed the crowds, along with some bashing of heads and flogging of a few rebels as an example.

  “Do you not know how much he has done for you? That you should now rebel against his rule and rise up against him? Let the matter of the Most Honored Lady Diti be tried before the tribunal and the king when he arrives, for he is a just king, as you well know and is father of the city. Do not risk your lives but let the matter be handled by the king and th
e judges and you must go to your homes!” Though this seemed to work, the unrest had already revealed dangerous undercurrents. The blood and dirt of the city had been stirred up and had brought to a head simmering anger and a multitude of old resentments.

  The king's procession met with the bride's caravan and now both were traveling back to Jhis. The bride's family had spent obscene amounts of gold on a fabulous procession. There was a large group of dancing girls riding before the bride on a barge dripping with lilies and katas, a barge of a great golden lion pulled by tawny horses, one of a falcon pulled by gray horses, hundreds of marching Egian soldiers decked in silver, wearing the twin moons emblem on their helmets and carrying a great standard of the silver twin moons with a falcon carved in the lower moon. There were servants dressed in fine linens and silks, many great elephanta that would be used in the games, all decked in garlands of white katas and atop those sat the tents of the king's administrators, the bride's personal servants and family and finally, in the back there was the great float of the queens of the heavens, Nimnet, patron goddess of Egi and the queen mother, Elyshe. This float was the most beautiful, statues of the goddess sitting in serene repose in gleaming silver and her mother standing behind her with the same face of serenity. Inside this was the bride herself. There were many foot-soldiers in the front and the rear of the procession carrying pennants of the lion in red and gold. It was a massive sight and could be seen from far off by those at the city wall.

  Master Caina finally reached them. He hailed the procession.

  “I must speak with the king, there is a message for him! It is of dire importance!”

  “Go, then, to the king. There he is, riding.” Pointed one of the commanders. Farther up, the king, riding upon his red stallion saw that his herald had come back. He called to him.

  “Caina! What are you doing here? Did I not send you ahead to tell the people of my coming? Why have you come back?”

  “I have a message for you, my king!” Caina raced his horse back to meet him.

  “This letter here is for you. It is said that you wrote this letter with your own hand and sealed it with your seal.” He wheeled his horse around and rode up beside the king and handed him the letter. King Khalit took the letter. He looked it over, then tore open the seal and read it. His face furrowed in a deep frown.

  “I do not recall giving any such orders before I left.” He shook his head.

  “Treachery may be at work here, my king.”

  “Treachery indeed! It is not my hand that this was written in and I did not seal this! I never gave any such order! Who gave you this letter?”

  “The Most Honored Lady Diti found it. She says that it was forged by the Ainash priest Shishak and another man, Teman, a scribe of the Golden Temple. She created a great commotion among the people over it. When I had returned the city was rioting over this very matter, my king. What do you think? Do you believe her?” The king was silent for a long moment. His face darkened.

  “Rioting. Does she think to humiliate me? I do not know what to think of this, yet. But I am not inclined to believe she would make this up. I will get to the the bottom of the pot when I arrive. For her own sake, she had better be telling the truth!” He said, folding the letter up and putting it away. Then he smiled a wicked smile.

  “What, my king?” Asked Caina.

  “I have seen and heard the schemers for quite some time and I have learned a small thing if nothing else, from them. The Ainash want to play a game, do they? I shall cast a piece they do not expect on the board, then.” He glanced back at the great looming float in the back of the procession, his expression oddly ambivalent.

  “The Ainash are as bad as the Egians. My bride's father would enjoy such a game. Of that, I am sure.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Before the king left the city the word was sent to all the officials of the city and the land all around and to the priests of the major temples of the land. Now that the king was arriving, tens of thousands were gathered and all were looking forward to the festivities that would unfold over the next several weeks. Even with the recent commotion. Flower sellers were doing brisk business, especially for the procession.

  Thus, came the new queen of King Khalit into Jhis.

  First came the one hundred dancing girls in their glittering veils with ribbons of silk they wound and fluttered about themselves in graceful movements. Then the impressive marching of the battalions, Hybronian and Egian. First the charioteers, then foot soldiers, two thousand in all their finery bearing the standards of both lands, the lion and the falcon moon. Then the great barge of the lion pulled by mules and the float of the queen's family of the falcon, next the long line of elephanta, their tusks decorated in garlands. The people threw flowers at the grand procession, cheering. The towers on top of these elephants waved from side to side and sitting within them were the queen's father and extended relatives in wooden benches on these towers, waving to the crowds. Finally, from the arched way of the city gate was the last barge, the barge of Queen Taliat who was sitting on a throne between the images of the goddess and goddess-mother. She sat atop her throne looking like a delicate white flower mirroring the repose of the goddesses and she was even more beautiful than the former queen. Her hair was long and black as raven's feathers yet she was pale as alabaster with dark eyes and her lips were scarlet, painted with kohl and crushed red beetle. She wore a silver headdress of a falcon and white wraparound dress of delicately woven linens that exposed her shoulders and a silk belt around her waist with many step chains of silver around her legs and silver and gold bracelets on her arms. She was still as stone as the crowds and they roared with pleasure at the sight of her. It was an impressive sight and cemented the power of these two families at court, the lion and the moon falcon. The crowds, only a day before enraged and riotous over the words of Lady Diti and her mourners were now cheering just as passionately for their king and his new bride. Garlands and flower petals filled the air like snow. Shaikhs and valiant, mighty men of the Karig entered from the opposite way down the main street, aloof and prideful. They were some Khalit's brothers and uncles who remained desert men, dressed in their wild finery of furs, bones and leathers and long black beards and hair. They came to pay their respects. It would be a momentous affair for the next several days.

  “It would seem the people love their queen.” Said Khalit proudly to Bakku. The messenger-courtier bowed and smiled obsequiously. He'd invited Bakku to ride with him the last league into Jhis. Bakku seemed elated to be able to be seen with the king on this auspicious day.

  “Indeed, Your Greatness, they do.” Bakku was all grin and merriment as he glanced from side to side at the joyous crowds.

  “You did well with this match, Bakku. You shall be duly rewarded if she gives me a son.” Everything hinged upon this but Bakku was not worried. The Strabians had ways of doing things to get exactly what they needed.

  “I am sure she will provide the needed son, my king.”

  “There is another matter I will have to deal with and I would like you to be present, Bakku.”

  “Oh, my king?”

  “Oh, yes. It concerns a letter I received some hours before. You were sleeping in your palanquin when this letter came to me. I think you will find it quite interesting.” He said, staring pointedly at Bakku. The king had stopped smiling and his expression hardened. Bakku smiled and bowed again slightly, but wondered at this. A slight nervousness now began to set in, though he was expert at smoothing over any inner turmoil. His face was a mask of pleasantness but inside his thoughts began to roil like the sea. What letter?

  . . .

  Lady Diti could hear the raucous cries and cheers as the royal procession came down the main boulevard. She had Zigal simmer a large pot of herbs. The perfumed steam calmed her nerves. The king was back. Surely he had the letter! What would happen now? Would he punish her? Laud her or just ignore her? Those innocent people! She wished could have done more. And the children! She shuddered to thi
nk what would happen to them if the false edict was not rescinded by the king. She had seen too many brothels full of children. Then there were the slave camps and slave ships. She wished at times the city would burn down simply to get rid of such abominations. She lay on her divan holding in a sickness in her belly.