Chapter 9: The Walls of Jericho

Time: October 23, 8235 4:27 PM

When we arrived at Jizari's airport, I was given some unexpected information. A high ranking Royal was in the city and wanted to travel immediately to Aleppo. He had commandeered my Guild's ramjet. Abigail and I had few minutes and we went to find a quiet place to sit in Security's VIP lounge. I pulled out my scheduler and typed in a few queries. I looked up and gave Abigail a small smile.

"It's not so bad. There's a non-stop rail connection from Aleppo to Jericho, 293 kilometers. The rail trip will take just 75 minutes. At least the storm here is breaking up. I don't think we'll have any trouble with takeoff." A brief but fierce spring storm had started an hour ago. I sighed, thinking about missing the coming summer, but winter in North America does have its own beauty.

Abigail gave me a small nod through her burqa, keeping the correct protocol by not replying verbally in public without a direct question being asked of her. Within an hour our jet departed. The 10,400 kilometer trip to the ancient site of Boston Massachusetts would take only three hours.

I was stunned by our passenger. Mudar! Not just Royalty, not just Ruling Royalty! Mudar is one of the most feared and imposing men in the world, and not just because of his flaming red hair and two full meters in height. He is also the youngest of the three CL-29 in the world, and as such the number-six man on the eleven-member supreme ruling executive council.

It was a worrisome development. Mudar could have easily ordered the jet to be for his sole use. The fact that he was permitting us to fly with him was not without danger. Given the choice, I probably would have preferred taking a day to get to Jericho by sub- sonic transportation.

Mudar motioned with his hand as we boarded how he wanted us to sit. I was in the back left side, with Abigail in front of me. Mudar was in the front right, with one of his wives in back of him and on my right. Mudar's presence dominated us, 10 cm above me and 25 cm taller than Abigail, more with her bent with the crutches. He smiled at her as he gestured her with his hands, but the smile never touched his eyes. I think Abigail realized it too. We were both on our guard.

At 6 PM Mudar started the evening prayers, beginning with a free-form version of The Prayer of Uncounted Failings. For a while it made sense, but then it became very difficult to follow. Afterwards there was a period of silence. Mudar just sat there turning, slowly shifting his gaze back and forth between Abigail and me. I couldn't help but notice the class insignia on his sleeve, the Royal square with the tri-colors of the supreme ruling executive council (purple, red, and yellow) and an addition band of blue on top. And out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mudar's wife trembling in her seat beside me. I briefly wondered what she looked like under her burqa.

"So," Mudar said, finally fixing his gaze upon me, "Quite a ride on the Lion so far."

I gazed back. If he had said, "Quite a ride on the Lion so far, don't you think?", that would have given me a firm legal reason for replying. But without a direct question, and without explicit permission to speak freely, technically any response at all could get me into trouble, even a simple nod of my head. I stared back in silence. After a while Mudar's face broke into a small frown, and his eyes were totally without warmth. "I've spoken several times about this issue, even with Abdul Quddus himself occasionally, on why we allow the Lion to maintain such independence from the Priesthood. What is your opinion?"

"My opinion Grand Mufeto, is that the Lion exists as described in the Book of Bel'dar." I bowed my head slightly as required, waiting patiently for him to continue.

"Do you know Ilias, that I was a Nikahaldi as a Priest?"

"Yes, Grand Mufeto."

"That is the proper way to mature, slowly through the classes. I think your ride on the Lion is..." He paused for a moment to consider and then frowned. He finally seemed to realize that a direct criticism of the Lion would be a direct criticism of the Book of Bel'dar, and that he was flying in a ramjet of the Guild that monitors the world. I was astonished to see him come so close to such a blunder, though I showed no outward sign of it. Discipline, Fateen, discipline! You were so right! What would life be without it?

Mudar changed topics. "Regardless Ilias, another successful ride! You made the ranks of the Upper Commanders." He paused for a moment, giving me another chance to trip up and respond. After a moment he continued, "So how many Upper Security Commanders are there now in Security?"

He was referring to the citizen levels of CL-12 to CL-15, commanders who have both red and yellow in their diamonds, the highest levels below Royalty. It's a huge jump to earn the yellow and go from CL-11 to CL-12. All Guilds reserve executive power to within the ranks of their Upper Commanders. As a CL-12, I could contact my Guild's eleven CL-15s directly anytime I thought it necessary. I would never dare to that as a CL-11.

I answered Mudar's question. "Including me now, seventy-six, Grand Mufeto."

He feigned surprise. "What?! So many?! In a Guild of what, three thousand?"

His point was real. Outside the Priesthood, the average Guild had twice as many Upper Commanders, but was also eight times our size. Security is a great Guild for promotion.

But before I could affirm Mudar's comment, he turned to Abigail and asked, "And what is your opinion?"

"My opinion, Grand Mufeto? I believe your number of three thousand Security members is accurate."

"No, not about that. I mean about the Guild having so many Upper Commanders."

"It's not my place to have an opinion on such matters, Grand Mufeto."

He chuckled at her. "No, indeed not. And what should you have an opinion on?"

"My opinion is that I will faithfully serve my husband, Grand Mufeto."

"A correct opinion, my servant. And you also think of me as your master, don't you?"

"Yes, you are also my master, Grand Mufeto."

"And you will obey me in all things, correct?"

Abigail paused for mere fraction of a second. "As described in The Book of Bel'dar, yes, Grand Mufeto."

Mudar fidgeted for a moment. He seemed annoyed about something and pulled a small cloth from inside his robe and wiped the left side of his neck and cheek. He scowled at me. "Have the pilot reduce the air temperature in here Ilias."

I complied at once.

He returned to his conversation with Abigail. "And so this is your wedding day! Such a wonderful day of freedom for you. No more worries about trying to remember things, no more studying. How I envy you! So young, and to have such a care-free life ahead! You are so fortunate! Don't you agree?"

I worked mightily and kept a completely neutral expression. Without my intervention, this would have been a day of horror for Abigail, a day of great and evil degradation, the day she would have lost her abilities to grow and to learn and to chose new purpose for her life. Except for my treason, all these things would have been irrevocably ripped from her mind. And yet Abigail answered with sincerity, "Oh yes, Grand Mufeto, I am very fortunate!"

Mudar seemed startled by her words. "Really? You were zero point nine, one of ten this year, while there were over two hundred Royal promotions and marriage opportunities! Don't you feel cheated, that you were defiled and married by a lowly Citizen Level twelve?"

I was so proud of Abigail. The monster! If he were so envious of her fate, why didn't he take the eternity drugs himself?! But Abigail didn't miss a beat. She replied kindly, "It's not my place to feel such things, Grand Mufeto."

I think we both heard it, both Mudar and I, perhaps even Mudar's wife. Abigail was not only sincere; her voice also had more than a hint of compassion for Mudar, perhaps even pity. It totally unsettled him. He tried a few more desultory attempts to trap Abigail and then gave up. We flew the rest of the trip in silence, the remainder of the evening Prayer cycle abandoned.

Our jet landed at Aleppo on time. It was a very dark night, thick clouds and a cold drizzle. We parted company for Mudar and his wife, and Abigail and I headed to the adjoining train terminal. The stormy weather outside provided a nice contrast with the train interior, warm and cozy as we flew across the landscape at close to 250 km/hour. The super-conducting magneto-rails provided an almost completely silent ride.

As we approached our destination, the train slowed and we got a good view of the fabled Walls of Jericho, four meters of solid stone built late in the first millennium and now over seven thousand years old. Jericho was the oldest township in North America, and the walls were originally built to keep out bears. They still serve that purpose.

The early pilgrims originally intended to settle at the seaport site of Aleppo, but Boston took at least two direct hits during the War of the Burning Metals, and at the time the residual radiation was too much for the first North American pioneers to handle. So they moved to Jericho, founded on the ancient site of Burlington, Vermont, at 44 o 28' N, 2 o 15' W. Its solar time would lag nine minutes behind the standard of Bandar Arenas, a pleasantly small difference.