Unmarked Journey

by Dexter Findley

  Fifty-three

  There were dozens of sentinels, all manically running down the center of the thoroughfare in a state of considerable excitement. To her immense pleasure she realized they weren't coming for her. They bolted right past them, the echoing sound of their ruckus Doppler-shifting as they passed by.

  'Faster,' Amin ushered, once they'd passed. Once we've made it through the Tricula it'll be easier.

  'The what?'

  'It is the Pillar of Valor's ancient ceremonial hall. There are usually lots of people in it. There are five large runs like this one which branch off it.'

  'Great,' Cali winced. 'And once we pass through?'

  'The streets!' Amin enthused. 'We can lose ourselves in the crowds.'

  Let's hope we don't literally get lost.

  They passed corridor after corridor branching off from the main 'run' they were on. Cali caught glimpses of what lay at their ends: more sunny courtyards, stairways leading both up and down, locked doors, rooms with ominous glows... the complex they were in must be huge.

  'Here we are. Keep your head down,' Amin whispered.

  Cali couldn't help but look anyway. The already expansive thoroughfare broadened out and gave way to a gigantic circular hall with a dizzyingly high dome. Colossal windows dominated about a third of its circumference, tall and thin and dozens of meters off the ground, letting in great segments of sunlight. The rest of the wall contained entrances to more thoroughfares like the one they'd just come out from.

  In its center, gargantuan and magnificently terrifying, was a statue of what looked like an angel. She couldn't get a good look at it yet, because it was facing the other way.

  There were surprisingly few people. Groups of slaves mostly, scurrying from one run to another. Details of sentinels here and there, but most were quite far away. They crossed as quick as they could, heading for a large open entrance under the bank of windows. The floor was made of a ruddy stone, polished and grooved where thousands of footfalls walked over it every day.

  'Oh no,' Amin whimpered.

  'What?' she hissed in return.

  'A group of Elect. Just keep walking.'

  Cali studied the floor intently, not daring to raise her eyes too much. These Elect, whatever they were, had an odd gait by the sounds of it. They were near now, approaching from the opposite direction.

  'Whatever you do, do not look at them.'

  Am I not allowed to look at anybody? She fought the urge to look, and the eventually the Elects passed. They were so near the entrance.

  'Once we are outside, turn right,' Amin whispered.

  'Okay,' she replied, as a thought crossed her mind. That statue. She turned to catch a glimpse of its colossal form.

  It was terrifying. Not in a horror-film way, but in an anti-human way. A masked Manu sentinel, over a hundred feet tall, staring down at a group of naked, diminutive, terrified people clasped in its almighty fisted gauntlet. In its other hand were held two circular disks and a crescent shape. On the pedestal were carved four characters in an alphabet Cali hadn't ever seen before, but she knew instinctively what it said. Manu.

  'YOU!' someone called in a deep, resonant voice. Cali knew they meant her.

  The speaker in question was striding over the floor towards them. He wasn't a regular sentinel: his headdress was taller, his mask was white and he was carrying a staff with... what was that?

  She felt her head thrust floorwards before she had a chance to study it closer. It was Amin, making sure she was in a position that showed reverence and respect.

  'Have you no HUMILITY?' the Elect shouted.

  Have you no humanity? was all that Cali could think of saying. Thankfully, she didn't.

  'She is a new acquisition,' Amin offered, trembling.

  Her face was roughly grabbed by a course hand. The Elect pulled her up – he was scarily strong – so her eyes were level with his mask's slits. He stank of sweat. She was overcome by a manic urge to whack him right in the ear.

  To her horror, a spike shot out from the forearm that was holding her and stopped not even an inch from her eye.

  'Next time you'll lose it, slave, if you dare look upon our might again.' He dropped Cali and turned away.

  That was close. She was shaken, but angry more than anything. Amin grabbed her and dragged her away and out into the street.

  Fifty-four

  The street was pure chaos. Its smell was incredible. The Cali's surprise, most of the people bustling up and down its length were slaves. Slaves carrying loads, pushing barrows, driving carts pulled by... oh my god.

  'It's a fourhorn,' Amin explained helpfully.

  To Cali, it looked like a cow, except bigger, with a huge, arcing pair of horns complemented by two smaller ones. The top of her head barely reached the beast's arched shoulder blades.

  'They're very friendly,' Amin said.

  'I'm sure they are,' she replied uncertainly, sidestepping the lumbering behemoth. Sure enough, the fourhorn gently nudged people in its way, and seemed surprisingly deft on its dinner-plate sized cloven hooves.

  This made Cali look down at the street itself. She quickly wished she hadn't. It was a mire of excrement and waste, kept permanently slushy by the endless movement. In one or two places, near the edges of buildings, the delightful mix had caked over in the sun.

  The buildings themselves were a bit nicer. The façade of the Tricula dominated one side of the street, raised from the mess by half a dozen steps. The other side was a row of buildings in a similar architectural style: smooth, domed, made out of a reddish sandstone, with long, high windows and raised foundations. It felt... well, Cali wasn't sure. Middle Eastern? North African? Except she knew deep down that it was neither. Still, the street's bustle was reassuring in a sense. At least there are people in this world, albeit some rather sadistic ones.

  'Out the way! Move!' someone was calling ahead of them. It was a slave walking in front of a litter bearing an important person.

  'Cover your face,' Amin asked, 'and walk to the side.'

  Cali complied. She gave the litter a sideways glance as it passed. Inside, behind the thin screen of linen, was a Zar. That much was clear from the large, circular, blank-faced mask. Surprisingly, the Zar seemed to be staring right back at her.

  Zar Mittander. Oh, god if that was him... it would make sense, him visiting the Pillar of Valor. She turned away and looked at the ground, grabbing Amin and pulling him along faster.

  'We have to get off the main streets,' she hissed.

  'Okay, there's a junction up here.'

  The side-streets were more pleasant. The ground here was sandy, with the odd trail of waste; there was more room to move, but there were less people, which made Cali slightly nervous. More chance of being singled out and recognized.

  Still, they pressed on at a half-run, half-walk. Down sandy alleys, past open doorways and walled courtyards. The buildings became less and less grand, the tall-domed stone monoliths giving way to three- or four- floor domiciles made of wood and mismatched stone. Sentinels beat these endless streets mercilessly, doing their rounds in pairs or more. Thankfully, they gave them no bother beyond scornful stares.

  How much further? The sun was getting to her. Combined with her period and the city's stink (which was lesser here than on the main street, but still noticeable), it made for one hell of a headache.

  'You got any water in that bag of yours, Amin?'

  He looked at her with growing trepidation. 'Water, oh mother, water!' he exclaimed, as if being overcome with a sudden dread. 'I should have made sure you had enough before we left. Slaves can only draw water in their master's house and in their area of work: if they are caught drawing it anywhere else they can be put to death on the spot!'

  'So, you're telling me there's no way we can get a drink somewhere?'

  'Y-yes,' he said timidly, looking forlorn. 'I am sorry.'

  Somehow, knowing she wasn't allowed water made her even more thirsty. Her mouth immediately felt drier, and she
began to crave it like nothing else. A splitting headache was coming her way, she knew it. Cramps would increase. Bugger everything about this. She was going to get water, one way or the other. Still, better to be free and thirsty than trapped and sated.

  'Where are we headed?' she asked.

  'The Desert Gate. Not far now. Bhazi and Orranin will meet us there. There might be water!'

  Might. 'Who are they?'

  'People who will help us. Fellow Dalari. There aren't many guards at that gate.'

  'Why?'

  'Because it leads out into the desert.'

  Cali saw where this was going. 'Will we be... crossing that desert?'

  Amin sighed. 'Yes.'

  Great. They continued.

  Fifty-five

  Soon the buildings became grander and the streets narrower. Their architecture seemed more ornate, with detailed flourishes around their high windows and small domes on the roofs. They were built purely out of fine polished sandstone.

  'The Sand District,' Amin explained. 'We're close.'

  Soon they broke free of the maze of houses and out on to another thoroughfare: unlike the previous one, this one was twice as wide and paved with the same ruddy sandstone as the buildings: no mire of excrement here. It was practically deserted, which only served to emphasize its immense length. When she looked to her right, in the vague direction of what she assumed was the center of the city, the road shot like an arrow straight into the urban heart, bisecting the Sand District and terminating at a colossal building in the far distance. To her left, it ran on for about a hundred meters and stopped at a gate set in a high section