Paragaea (16 page)

“Balam,” Hieronymus warned, eyes narrowed.

“All right, all right,” the old man consented, bitter but resigned. “If I hear and answer your questions, you will return my property to me?”

“You have our solemn word,” Hieronymus said, without a trace of humor.

The old man's mouth drew into a tight line, and he nodded sharply.

“For each of you, I will answer a single question,” he said. “Begin.”

Leena's question was first, her need for the answer judged to be the greatest.

“My question is about Earth,” she began, guardedly hopeful, “which many in this strange land claim to be mythical, but from which I myself came.”

“Yes,” the old man answered, nodding slowly, his sightless eyes on eternity. “I have seen innumerable portals to Earth in my many years. I have seen ships at sea disappear into them, never to return. I have seen, too, all manner of strange men and creatures issue forth from them. Great lizards that stand taller than trees, their teeth long and sharp as cutlasses; men and women in strange fabric which nature never knew, speaking unknown tongues; rains of fish and frogs falling from the sky; vehicles of glass and steel which soar through the air; great flocks of birds…”

“Budet!” Leena snapped, excitedly, cutting him off. Remembering herself, she continued in Sakrian. “My question is this: Can you predict where and when the portals between Paragaea and Earth will open?”

The old man considered his answer for the briefest instant, and then shook his head.

“This skill is not mine,” he said, “but I have encountered those in my travels who claim to have that knowledge. Whether they do or not, I cannot say.”

“Who are they?” Leena asked excitedly, her hands in white-knuckled fists at her sides.

The old man simply said, “From each of you, a single question I will answer.”

Balam was next to ask his question.

“If I return to my home in the Western Jungle,” he said, “will I be able to oust my former coregents from the throne, and retake my place as leader of the Sinaa nation?”

The old man thought for a moment before answering, weighing his response.

“You overestimate my skills. I am not prescient, merely knowledgeable. That said, with a proper study of the facts I
could
make an educated guess. The facts, however, are not known to me, beyond the mere generalities. I was last in the lands of the Sinaa during the reign of the coregents Onca and Penitigri, when they went to war against the dog men of the Canid.”

Balam's mouth hung open in surprise, and his amber eyes widened.

“Onca was my grandsire, six generations removed,” he said, disbelieving but still not convinced the ancient man wasn't telling the truth. “Just how old do you claim to be?”

The old man simply said, “From each of you, a single question I will answer.”

It was now Hieronymus's turn. He looked through narrowed eyes at the ancient man.

“Leena,” he called over his shoulder, “I hope that you'll forgive me not repeating your question, but I find that I
do
possess curiosity, at last. I simply must know.” He turned his attention back to the old man. “Who are you, and what is this gem you cherish so dearly?”

“Benu,” the old man said simply.

“Which do you mean?” Hieronymus said. “Is Benu your name, or that of the gem?”

“Benu,” the old man repeated.

“Answer me, curse your sightless eyes, or you'll never lay hands on the gem again.”

The old man hung his head, and drew a heavy breath.

“I am Benu, the reborn one.”

“And what is the gem?” Hieronymus asked.

“Benu,” the old man answered.

“You speak in riddles,” Hieronymus said, growing agitated. His cavalry saber slid from its scabbard with the whisper of steel on steel, and he prodded the old man in the chest with the blade's tip. “Speak clearer, or I'll not warn you again.”

“The gem is Benu,” the old man answered in a faraway voice. “The gem is me, in every way that counts.”

Hieronymus prodded the old man in the chest once more.

“Very well,” the old man said, and drew himself up straighter. He shrugged his shoulders out of his robes, and stood naked before them. In the middle of his sunken chest was a fist-sized hole, twin to that in the chest of the young man lying unconscious on the platform. He was as hairless as the young man, and likewise sexless, but his skin was wrinkled and spotted, and hung loosely on his skeletal frame.

“I am an artificial being, not born of woman,” the old man went on. “I was forged hundreds of centuries ago, by a race of beings whom I can no longer clearly recall, and whom I have not seen in many long millennia. I was constructed to collect knowledge for those who created me, to walk the wide world until I had learned everything that could be learned. My bodies, though, last only a short span of years, even with the periodic repairs I am able to make, so that they are worn out and beyond use after no more than a thousand years. Once in every millennium, then, I construct a new body, and transfer my mind and memories to my new incarnation. The gem you hold in your hands”—the old man gestured to Balam with his chin—“contains all that I am, and all that I ever have been. If it is not seated in my new body before this old shell expires from age and exhaustion, then all I have learned in my long years will be lost.”

“Assuming we believe you,” Hieronymus said. “Why, with all that you have learned, can you not better answer our questions?”

The old man simply said, “From each of you, a single question I will answer.”

Leena, who'd remained silent since receiving her unhelpful response from the old man, surged forward, her hand flying to the Makarov pistol at her hip

“If he knows the way to Earth,” she shouted, “he will tell me, or I will kill him!”

Hieronymus leapt in front of her, blocking her path and pinning her arms to her sides before she was able to draw her pistol.

“We gave our word,” he said apologetically. “We've little else to call our own in this strange world, to trade it away so callously.”

Hieronymus led her to the far side of the chamber, trying to soothe her rage.

“Balam,” he called over his shoulder, “return the gem to him.”

The jaguar man, with a casual shrug, did as he'd been told, dropping the opalescent gem into the old man's withered hands. The old man immediately groped his way to the still form on the slab, touched
the gem for the briefest instant to his forehead, and then placed the gem in the cavity in the young man's chest.

A heartbeat passed, and the young man on the table opened his eyes, the lids drawn back on opalescent irises that seemed cousins to the gem now secured to his chest. At the same instant, the old man's sightless eyes shut one last time, and he fell straight to the ground, like a marionette with its strings cut.

The naked, hairless man on the slab sat up, swung his legs out over the side of the platform, and jumped lightly to his feet. He reached down, and effortlessly picked up the still form of the old man in his arms. He turned to the three travelers, who had drawn together on the far side of the chamber, and gave a slight smile.

“If you will help me bury the remains of my former incarnation,” he said, his voice clear and strong, “to keep it safe from thieves and predators, we can be on our way.”

“On our way? Where?” Balam asked.

“The questions put to my previous incarnation excited my curiosity,” the new Benu said thoughtfully. “I am somewhat curious to know whether you will be able to retake your throne, jaguar man, but I'm profoundly intrigued by the notion of traversing a portal to Earth. In my long years of roaming the wide world, I have learned nearly everything there is to learn, having to suffice these last few millennia on minutiae about the reigns of kings, trivia surrounding the dogmas of the world's various religions, and working out the final answer to the riddle of the meaning of existence. On Earth, however, there is an entire world of new information to gather. I'd have millennia of work before me, an unwritten book of knowledge to fill.”

The three looked at one another, not sure how to respond. It was Leena who finally broke the silence.

“Come along then, if you're coming,” she said, turning back to the passageway from which they'd come. “If the road ahead of us leads back to Earth, I'd just as soon be on our way.”

“I should lead the way, I should think,” the new Benu said, glancing towards the passageway, “so that I may disarm the temple guards as we pass.”

“Oh, those nuisances?” Leena said distractedly. “Already taken care of.”

Leena relit her torch from her flint-and-steel, and stood at the entrance to the passageway, waiting impatiently for the others to follow. Balam, with a shrug, moved to stand beside her.

The new Benu, naked and strong, followed after, his former body held in his arms. Halfway to the passageway he paused, and glanced back at Hieronymus, who still lingered on the far side of the chamber.

“Are you in some distress?” the artificial man asked, a hint of concern in his clear voice.

“No, it's simply that…” He paused, shaking his head. “I'm just…” Hieronymus laughed reluctantly. “I'm just curious. Who constructed you? How do you function? Why trust yourself into the hands of strangers, and join us on our possibly fruitless quest? Why…?” He broke off, and glanced around the room. “We won our way into this room for answers, and leave only with more questions.”

“And with me,” Benu corrected.

“But if you aren't a walking question in your own self, then nothing is.”

Benu smiled, an expression of ancient wisdom drifting across his fresh, young features.

“In my few years of existence, walking the wide world and gathering knowledge, I have found that answers are rarely what we need. It is the questions that we live for.”

Their company was now expanded by one, their trio become a quartet, and with the change in their number came also a new destination.

“I have traveled throughout the city-states of Sakria in these years past,” Benu said as they made their steady way east, heading towards the eastern extremity of the Altrusian forests, where the trees gave way to the high plains of Sakria. “And I was most recently in the self-same Lisbia of which you speak. And I can assure you, in no uncertain terms, that no one in any Sakrian culture, leastwise Lisbia, holds the knowledge you seek.”

Leena, following close behind the strange artificial man, felt a sense of vertigo deep inside, as though she were standing at the edge of some metaphorical chasm, teetering on the brink.

“So we are back where we started, then?” she said, dispirited. “Figuratively, if not literally, mired in ignorance and with no idea where to go for answers?”

“But making good time.” Balam laughed mirthlessly, following a few paces behind. And he was right. In addition to knowing the hidden tracks and paths through the thick forests, Benu's strength and reserves of energy belied his slight frame, and with him at their head, tearing through the undergrowth, blazing a trail before them, they moved at a pace far faster than any they had managed on their own.

“Heading nowhere fast,” Hieronymus said, bringing up the rear. “So if we're not now bound for Lisbia, are we to wander aimlessly for answers?”

“I did not say that.” Benu glanced back over his shoulder, his opalescent eyes glittering in the slanting rays of the afternoon sun. Leena was still disconcerted that he chose to walk unclothed and unadorned, as naked as he had been when lying on the slab in the ruined temple. Benu had explained that he had no need of clothes, but that if it bothered her to see him in such a state, he would endeavor to procure suitable clothing at the first opportunity. He explained that he usually adopted the fashions and customs of the culture in which he happened to find himself, but that when he traveled through the unpeopled wilds, he rarely maintained such affectations. “I said that no Sakrian cultures held the answers. Some, though, are aware of the questions, which might serve us as clues.”

“What do you mean?” Leena asked.

“In the city of Hausr, there is the sect of Kasparites, for example.”

“I know of them,” Hieronymus said. “Their missionaries infest the other Sakrian cities like weevils, spreading the good word of their savior. What of them?”

“They cleave to a most peculiar doctrine,” the artificial man went on, not turning around, but raising the volume of his voice that they might hear over the snapping and tearing of the undergrowth in his wake. “The central figure in their religion is a boy named Kaspar who dwelt in Hausr some centuries ago. This otherwise unremarkable young man is said to have disappeared in a flash of light in full view of many
witnesses. As so often happens with matters difficult to explain, in time complex exegeses and cosmologies built up around this singular incident, like the layers of a pearl slowly accreting around an irritant, and in time matured into a full-blown belief system. Kaspar was eventually looked upon as a kind of holy vessel, one which walked among men for a time before being taken up into communion with the godhead. In light of your questions, Leena Chirikova, I can't escape the conclusion that this Kaspar at the heart of the mystery was the victim of another similar aperture between worlds, though this one translating him away from Paragaea rather than into this world from elsewhere.”

Leena, for her part, could not escape the conclusion that Benu liked to lecture almost as much as Hieronymus did, if not more. Perhaps it was the long centuries spent gathering data that he was never able to deliver, an unimaginable store of knowledge packed into the gem that was the core of his personality.

“Of course,” Benu went on, his lecture continuing, “the obverse is also true, and there are religions and creeds found on Paragaea which arguably have their origins in incidents of travelers from other worlds arriving unexpected in this world. The Pakunari of Ogansa Valley, as a perfect example, are a separate species of humanity who worship sibling deities, Wira and Ahari, whom myth contends came to the cradle of Pakunari civilization from another world at the beginning of time. While the doctrine does not record the specifics of their arrival, the broad strokes would certainly indicate a resemblance to your own story.”

“Your examples serve to illustrate that it is possible to move from one world to the other,” Hieronymus called from the rear of the train, sounding out of breath and somewhat frustrated. “But this is a point which all present have already accepted as fact. What we require is the ability to predict where such points of transfer can be found, and to know where and when the resulting gates will lead.”

“Fair enough,” Benu said, raising his hand and glancing back over his shoulder, something like a contrite
expression written on his unmarred features. “Centuries ago, I once passed a few long days amongst the hive mind of Croatoan island in the company of a wayfarer who had visited the oracular forest of Keir-Leystall.”

“And survived to tell the tale?” Balam's voice dropped to a whisper.

“So he reported,” Benu answered.

“What is this forest?” Leena asked.

“A grove of talking trees of metal,” Hieronymus said, disbelieving, “who are said to know unplumbed secrets no other being can know. But I had always thought Keir-Leystall to be nothing more than a myth, a traveler's tale for the fireside.”

“No,” Benu said absently, “it is quite real. I have visited there myself, from time to time, though I can't recommend the experience. In any event, this wayfarer claimed to have exchanged secrets with the oracular trees, and that one of the provinces over which the trees claimed mastery was the knowledge of moving between the worlds. Given that the trees are quite mad, I'm not sure how well to credit their testimony, but based on the available data, my contention is that if the answers to Leena's questions are held anywhere on the face of Paragaea, it would be there.”

“So it's settled,” Leena said. She could not escape feeling a glimmer of hope, serving somewhat to balance her earlier despair. “So how far a journey is it to this…Keir-Leystall.”

“Far,” Benu said simply. “Very far.”

That night, around a crackling fire in a small clearing, strange hoots and calls ringing back forth from the copses of trees around them, the company consulted Hieronymus's maps. Benu allowed that they were fairly accurate, giving the current configurations of landmass and
terrain on the Paragaean continent, though there were some irregularities to the placement of some of the townships and cities in the northwest reaches of Taured, and that to the best of his recollection the citadel city of Atla, atop Mount Ignis, was farther to the north and east than Hieronymus had placed it, nearer the edge of the burned steppes of Eschar.

“I will want to discuss this further,” Hieronymus said, a gleam in his eyes, reluctant to change the topic of conversation away from matters cartographical. “But for the moment, I'm more concerned with the exact positioning of the fabled oracular forest of Keir-Leystall.”

Benu leaned forward, and with a smooth-tipped, nailless finger pointed at the peninsula of Parousia, which dominated the eastern shore of the Inner Sea.

“There, several days inland from the southern inlet of Parousia, beyond the mangrove swamps.”

Balam growled, shaking his head discontentedly.

“And we are where?” Leena asked, scanning the map for recognizable terrain.

“Here,” Hieronymus said. He pointed to the forests that ran north and south between the high plains of Sakria in the east and the Rim Mountains in the west. Nearly half of the breadth of the continent separated their position from the location Benu had indicated.

Leena rubbed her feet, for the moment mercifully free of her heavy boots, and sighed a ragged sigh.

Days passed—bone-wearing days of traveling through the undergrowth, Benu ever driving them onwards farther and faster, seeming never to tire.

It seemed to Leena as though they would never leave the woods
behind, and every clearing they passed was just a momentary tease, a tantalizing hint of clear skies and open spaces, before the next stand of trees plunged them once again into the forest deeps. So it was that, stepping through a break in the tree line and walking into the broad sunshine, it took her a few blinking moments to realize what it was she saw. The tree line behind her continued in an unbroken line to the left and right, a forested wall running from the northwest to the southeast, but the broad, open plains before her continued as far as the eye could see, dotted here and there with little copses of trees that were completely dominated by the high plains around them.

They stood at the edge of the Sakrian plains, the darkened forests of Altrusia behind them.

“There,” Leena said, pointing ahead. “What's that?” Smoke curled on the far horizon, rising above a gray smudge that seemed to darken the landscape from the far north to the far south. “A city?”

“With no buildings rising above the horizon?” Balam said, shaking his head. “Not likely.”

“It is a city, of a sort,” Benu, whose opalescent eyes could see farther and more keenly than any of theirs, said. “But there are no buildings.”

Leena was confused, but Hieronymus and Balam seemed immediately to take his meaning.

“It's a city such as you've never seen, little sister,” Hieronymus said, smiling somewhat wistfully. “One which picks up stakes and moves with each turn of the season, migrating from one corner of the globe to another.”

“The Roaming Empire,” Balam said, licking his black lips, and Leena fancied she could hear his stomach rumbling. “And while their cuisine is hardly without parallel, it would no doubt far overshadow the meager fire-roasted offerings of this damnable forest.”

“More to the point,” Hieronymus said, “they traffic in knowledge, so mayhap we can find someone willing to trade a secret or two for transportation.”

“It seems our most likely course.” Benu nodded. “And with my stores of knowledge full to the brim, with my long years of wandering, I'll have ample coin with which to barter.”

“It is decided, then,” Balam said, heading out across the grassy plains towards the horizon. “We make for Roam.”