The Fecund's Melancholy Daughter - Brent Hayward [36]
Clouds overhead were the full amber of day. Path squinted. Heat grew but was not yet unbearable. Craning, as he had all morning, to look into the distance, where the road dwindled into haze and shimmering illusions looked like water, he finally became convinced that he could discern shadows and hints of spires, the minarets and fabulous structures that the salesman had once described. Fading in and out, the details did not become clear.
Yet more groups of pedestrians approached, driving animals ahead of them: sheep; a bird, flying at the end of a thin chain; a dog, erect on two legs, squinting with suspicion at path before curling one black lip. There were dirty families and wary men, travelling alone. Most, if they saw path, head bobbing above the fabric ridge of the sling, looked away. His father stumbled and bumped path hard against his sternum. Here, vendors had set up haphazard stalls, either side of them, selling sundry and sparse items. A whiff riding the breeze was suddenly rank and exciting.
And then Nowy Solum appeared from the mists, undeniable, unavoidable.
They stopped, awed.
The sheer size of the apparition had helped obscure it. Stretching across the horizon—defined by the sheer cliffs of its surrounding wall—the city dwarfed them, dwarfed the road, these homes. Ahead, a sluggish river merged with the road to enter the enormous main gates, bridged by a stone arch. Path heard his father gasp for breath, felt his father’s heart pound.
There was a singing in path’s mind, and far away voices. Before a nearby stall, in which a bearded man presided, small crowds had gathered. “There,” path said, mouth gone dry. He saw flashes of white from the counter of the stall, and these flashes seemed to be trying to relay information to him. “Go over there.”
Path’s father stood, swaying.
“To that vendor.”
As they neared, path saw that smooth, pale forms had been arrayed, like alien patterns, symbols on this parched road made from another time or from materials so rare that no pedestrians or itinerants should ever be allowed to stand there, gawking at them.
“Push through,” he choked. “Closer . . .”
His throat was closing. He gasped and quivered. At that moment, how path wished he had arms, fingers. He needed to touch these items, to rub against them. He would have licked the pristine objects, placed them in his mouth, received sensations from them, for there was a connection here: they were messages, chunks of a puzzle, keys to his new identity.
“Put them near me,” he told his father. “Rub them on me.”
But as the scrawny hand of his father touched one of the pale forms, the seller, who had been discussing price with a strikingly beautiful woman accompanied by two fat, well-armed eunuchs, spun and grabbed path’s father firmly by his elbow.
“Watch out, mano. They’re seventeen small coins each.” The voice was grated, rough, his face hard. Bearded, glassy-eyed, the seller glared. His long, tangled hair hung in clumps. “And they’re genuine. So don’t touch them.”
“Genuine what?” path asked. “What are they?”
Now the man looked down. He had obviously not known path was in the sling. He stared for a long moment. Path stared back. Others in the crowd were also watching. Someone whispered. The beautiful lady made a sign with her fingers, holding them at her chest, and backed away. Her eunuchs blocked.
“Let me touch them,” path demanded.
“Why would I do that?” The seller wiped his mouth with the back of one hand. He spread his other hand on the counter and glared. There was something wrong with his eyes. After a long while, he looked up at path’s father. “What you got there, anyhow? What is this thing you lug into the city?”
“My boy.”
“Boy? Is he for sale?”
“I’m not,” said path.
The man grinned. “Know what these are? I’ll tell you. What you have in your palsied hands are parts of a celestial body.” He raised his voice, addressing anyone who would listen. “That’s right, folks. Genuine parts, from above the clouds. Come and see! Step up, step up!”
Despite his loud barking, no new customers approached. The seller scowled