Chapter 17

"I don't suppose you need to rest," McAllister murmured as he poured some of the god's oats into the Jade's feedbag. "That must have been a race to remember."

The Jade snorted, and bumped McAllister's arm with his long face.

"Well, we have about forty miles to go, tonight, then. We should make it by morning if we keep the cantering down. I don't want to arrive in the middle of the night."

The stallion nodded, careful not to spray any of the oats anywhere. McAllister was not sure if the oats possessed any special property, but he was sure that he would not find any to replace them in this country.

Half rain forest and half swamp, seemingly the only difference between the two was the angle of the land one stood upon. The road certainly wasn't level, even in the swamps. McAllister was rethinking his request of Bronze to drop them off some miles northwest of the city.

Still, it was good policy to reconnoiter the land as one approached, and McAllister kept the approach slow and deliberate, asking at every village for news. Though he dressed strangely and rode a horse, the local population didn't react badly to his presence or his questions, natural as the questions were. McAllister learned the nation shared its name with the capital city, and that the language was Bhangdi.

The clothing the natives wore seemed as strange to him as his was to theirs, he knew. Bright colors, dark colors with golden trim, many different loose styles were worn in the hot jungle and swamps. Monkeys and strange birds were in the tops of the heavily-canopied trees, and strange mosses and vines grew in the tops of the wetland giants.

The clothing of the natives appeared to distinguish them somehow, and some strange recognition system of whom to defer to seemed to be in place. After he spoke in the local language to an old fellow with brown skin and white hair wearing simple brown robes McAllister had the sense that a whole class of finer-dressed residents refused to acknowledge his existence.

In the next village, McAllister addressed the most richly-clothed man he could find to test this observation. The fortunate individual walked, albeit slowly, between what seemed to be a rich house and a roofless temple filled with statuary.

Dismounting, he led the Jade to the middle-aged man. As he neared, McAllister studied the other, noting the smooth, beardless face, and the light of agelong wisdom in the man's eye. "Whither goest, Wise Man?"

Laughter suffused the other's face. "To my study, Kashatriy. Would you come and talk with me while I putter about?"

McAllister fell into step with the man, the Jade shuffling sideways for a moment, then following the lead. After a moment, he asked the other, "You used a word I do not know, naming me."

"Mmm," the other said, "I see. You understand much of what is spoken, but in this case, I mean many things, and the aid you were given is unable to render the meaning fittingly for your ears." He led the way into the small walled courtyard with its odd roof and stonework. "Please, make yourself comfortable," the older man said, "but try not to move any of my markers."

McAllister looked around at the collection of oddly-shaped stone obelisks and sundials, each on a massive plinth, heavy enough to give even Sable pause. Shrugging, he chose one with a broad base, and sat on its base, his back to the obelisk, and squinted for a moment at the mostly-cloudy sky. The roof offered cover from occasional rain, but the heavens could be seen from the wide apron of the courtyard.

"You are an astronomer?" McAllister asked. "You make study of the heavens? I, alas, only know of a few stars, useful for navigation."

"You named me Philosopher and Priest," the other answered, "and Astronomer is not so far from all of that. I named you Ruler and Leader, Doer of Great Things. You are from far away, and perhaps do not quite understand the fullness of the varna, but it is plain to see though you carry a thing of the gods," he gestured at the brooch, "you are not of them. Though you may use the arts of the Philosopher and mage, I do not think you make great study of the subjects. Neither are you of the sort to work with hands or make music, or to labor in trade or agriculture, though you consort with all. So, I place you securely in the Kashatriy. The stars themselves notice you, and they have told me you were near, though I do not know your name."

McAllister returned the older man's searching look with a level gaze. "I am here with a purpose," he said, "and I have no desire to make ripples as I pass. That you could see this, foretell I am near, is disturbing to me. Do you know of a way I could mask that?"

The astronomer nodded calmly. "You could ask the stars to make no notice of you," he said in utter seriousness. "The histories say it has been done, but no one I know of knows how the thing is accomplished."

McAllister had nothing to say to that. Shaking his head to change the subject, he tried, "In your catalogue of skills, do you number Architecture amongst them?"

The suddenness of the increase in intensity of the other's gaze caught McAllister by surprise. "I do. You carry a number of great burdens, and I have seen similar weights before. Why do you ask of Architecture?"

"I should mislike having to fight my way into it, but in the center — I would guess it is in the center — of the Palace of Architecture, there is said to be an object of power, an object used in binding and obduracy."

The other closed his eyes for a moment. "I was very much afraid you would say that. Attempting to take that artifact should put us at odds, and if you survived fighting your way in, you should then expect to fight your way out of the whole city, and then the whole nation."

McAllister held up the brooch he wore, though the cloak was packed in the Jade's saddlebags for the duration of McAllister's time here near the equator, he wore it still on his gray blouse. "You say you recognize this?"

"It is an object which generates a feeling, a sensation of divinity," the older man slowly made his answer. After a moment, he continued, "I am not a priest. I have not seen one before."

"The one who brought the object I seek was a military man, with a military retinue, I believe, and may have worn an object similar to this. His name was Carus, and if I deem it necessary, I may restore him to the world, and you may hear from his lips that I have a prior claim to the artifact." McAllister paused. "Though, it may not be needful for me to remove the artifact, if I can control it."

The other nodded. "The poets say Carus came at Raphael's behest, though Raphael was a figure in no religion of ours. Raphael asked us to keep this object safe. He allowed us to make use of it so long as it did not conflict with his interests." The philosopher-astronomer regarded McAllister for a moment more, and shook his head. "It is the nature of kings and priests to forget that which they do not wish to remember. I do not think you will win permission to take the artifact from its location."

McAllister frowned then, troubled, and the other saw. "Perhaps you should see the artifact before making further plans," the philosopher offered. "If you are not in a hurry to reach Bhangda today, then perhaps you and I could journey there together. If your animal will stay nearby tonight, you may stay here while I work, and tomorrow I shall find a horse and we shall depart for the city."

McAllister agreed, then, unsaddling the Jade and rubbing the horse down while the astronomer returned to his home to prepare for a journey the next morning. "Stay nearby," he asked the horse, receiving a soft whicker in response.

To McAllister it seemed the night started well enough, when the astronomer returned. Charts and dividers, compasses and telescopes were objects he knew, and he settled against the same plinth he used earlier in the day. McAllister soon fell into a half-doze, watching the astronomer, while reflecting on the strange events that had happened to him in this second life.

That he had a second life at all was a constant source of amazement to McAllister, and that the deities he met hadn't immediately acted to end his second life was beyond comprehension. The Agents of Hell certainly tried, and he was aware rescuing Sable would certainly expose him to direct conflict with those Agents once again.

McAllister was prepared to die, to face eternal damnation again, for Sable, of that there was no doubt. Yet, if the terms of the damnation were negotiable, might a citizen of Hell visit one of Hell's prisoners? Might such a prisoner eventually come to be counted as citizen? Such were the thoughts pressing on McAllister, as he watched the astronomer align his lenses and annotate his charts.

Was this the way of despair? McAllister could not believe it was so. Fancifully, he imagined the heavens the astronomer could see, pictured the stars as more than mere luminous bodies, conceived them as entities with a will, caught in a profound dance, required to report their observations through their movements. Yet they had a will and a life of their own, though he knew the world to be round and agreed it revolved about the Sun, he understood what the ancients somehow intuited, that during the day at a time and in a way Men could not watch, the occupants of the Heavens went about their own affairs.

It was those affairs the Astronomer hoped to observe, and McAllister felt a sudden kinship for the man, watching the actions of nobles far above his reach. Though he interacted with a few of the gods of this plane, McAllister felt base and uncouth in the presence of the stars.

It seemed to him the stars indeed danced about him, and were even anxious to show him what they reflected of events that had occurred in the far past, in the immediate past, and in the near future. McAllister felt no shame then, for having watched and spied on them from afar, instead finding welcome and understanding from them.

Strangely moved, McAllister let the fantasy wash over him, the Mother's language-gift somehow seeming to work with the intent of the Denizens of Heaven to show him the meaning behind their movements. Dimly, McAllister understood the astronomer to be transported, pulled along behind him, though lost in the wake of turbulent understanding, falling ever further behind while McAllister swept effortlessly ahead.

A gathering of the gods the stars showed him, each star taking the place of one of the gods, the identities of some McAllister knew coming through the dance, though others he did not know. A great debate was happening in a place McAllister did not recognize, though he knew it to be on the Plane of Divinity for this world. "I saw it in the stars," was a thing he could someday say to his grandchildren, and he took sudden great hope in that knowledge.

Thus it was that with boundless optimism McAllister watched the dance of the stars play out the debate of the gods before him. Through the agency of the star portraying the god, McAllister watched Bronze greet Stilbe, the Goddess of the Western Plains, and their greeting was formal. Together, they approached the Child, the Mother, and the Crone, his patron deity's three-aspected nature somehow clearly shone through the star who represented her. McAllister wondered at that, but there was no time for the puzzle as he observed the three-aspected goddess treat with Bronze and Stilbe. There was no sound, but the gestures and motions were plain, and McAllister found himself moved to near-tears as hand-in-hand, Bronze and Stilbe made a courtesy to his patron goddess.

Arianne, exuding pure allure and desire, left the wings of the chamber to join the three, standing before the large quorum of the gods of this world that McAllister and Sable had taken refuge in. Each of the three embraced Arianne in turn.

The child-Empress of Han appeared then, dim to McAllister's perception, the luminary that portrayed her in the dance of the stars above somehow conveying the fact the child-Empress was not there in body. That the child-Goddess was truly barred from this world McAllister then realized, though the Child, the Mother, and the Crone greeted her worldly representative warmly, with a kiss. Stilbe and Arianne both greeted the child-Empress with a formal embrace. Bronze knelt and gravely shook the child-Empress' hand.

A thing happened then that McAllister understood, though dimly. The Child, the Mother, and the Crone split her aspects, and each stood beside one of her companions. The child stood with the child-Empress of Han, the Mother with Arianne, and the Crone, though not particularly crone-like, McAllister judged, with Stilbe. Bronze again dipped his chin in apology, and the Crone lifted it again with her forefinger. Stilbe and the other females watched, and seemed to approve.

"Sometimes, the gods form alliances," McAllister remembered Madelle saying, or near enough, and the words rang out, soundlessly, across the vignette. None seemed to react to the observation, and he realized again this was but a shadow cast by events, mimicked by the stars. Though he was still greatly hopeful for the future, McAllister was saddened he was not there, participating in the scene.

Whatever subject the congress of gods gathered to debate upon was not revealed to McAllister, as the clouds began to steal across the face of the heavens. He soon drifted into deep slumber. Still McAllister was preternaturally aware of the astronomer's courtyard and the plinths, the small table, and the astronomer himself, awestruck and motionless.

Dawn arrived, as eventually she must, and the elemental night ended.

McAllister woke to the feeling of being watched. Before him, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor of the observatory was the astronomer.

"Who are you?" the astronomer asked. "I have never been a part of such magic. Never have I seen so clearly, though you must have seen more clearly yet. What did the stars show you? They were eager to show you! This is a thing I have never seen happen, never heard of happening, even to the great Brahmagupta or his predecessors." The man nearly quivered with eagerness, but held himself to a slow, measured cadence of words.

McAllister shrugged. "I am what you said I was yesterday, a leader of men, and, I would guess, a doer of things that need to be done. How great those things are ... I could not say."

"The heavens show you great respect. If it is not for something you have done, it must be for something you have yet to do ... I am known as Aryabra, and all my doubts about your purpose here are removed. Will you share with me your name so I can record it in my almanac and history?"

That Aryabra was restrained in the manner of his request sat well with McAllister. "I am McAllister, Aryabra, and, though I am not overfond of telling of my past, I have done that often of late. Let us ride to Bhangda, I will answer your questions in return for your aid in the Palace of Architecture."

The city was large, and crowded. Down on the street, the press of the populace was a force that could not be ignored. Beggars importuned McAllister and Aryabra, fingering the astronomer's clothing. McAllister rode with his saber bare, after finding the third would-be thief's hand on his pannier. The Jade helped discourage thievery also, with frequent strong lashes of his tail and careful placement of his hooves on bare feet.

"How many in this city?" McAllister wondered aloud.