Kingdoms of the Wall (14 page)

As we passed through a grove of small waxy-looking trees with thick crowns of glossy white leaves a band of rock-apes abruptly appeared as if they had risen straight out of the earth, screaming and chattering, and started tormenting us with pebbles, rocks, gobbets of mud, anything that their gnarled little hands could lift and throw.

These apes of the Wall were like cruel caricatures of men, miniature figures no more than knee-high to us, and gnarled and hairy and hideous. Their arms and legs were short and crooked, their noses were flat and huge, their eyes were immense, their feet turned outward and upward like huge hands. Yellow fangs jutted from their mouths. Reddish fur covered their squat little bodies and they had great tufts of it, like beards, around their necks. No wonder they hated us and bedeviled us so: for we were what they would have wanted to be, if the gods had not chosen to make them ugly.

At a distance they were nothing more than nuisances. But here, no more than twenty or thirty paces from us, they were dangerous. Their missiles fell upon us in thick clouds. There was not one of us who was not hit and bruised. The safety-spell that Thissa had cast for us in the forest had no power out here. We shouted at them in our fiercest way, and Narril and Thuiman pulled ropes from their packs and began to crack them like whips to frighten them off. That worked for a time; but then the apes saw how little harm the ropes could do and they returned, noisier and more bothersome than ever.

A great soft clod of greasy mud caught Stapp of the House of Judges in the face. It stunned him for a moment: I saw him coughing and gagging as he peeled it away from his eyes and lips and nostrils. Hardly was he able to breathe again but they hit him with a second one, even softer and looser, which splattered all over his face and chest.

That seemed to drive him berserk. Stapp was ever a man of quick temper. I saw him snorting and spitting mud. Then he yelled wildly and pulled out his cudgel and rushed madly forward, laying about him to right and left. Taken aback by his frantic onslaught, the rock-apes retreated a little way. Stapp pursued them, swinging his cudgel with lunatic zeal, as they edged back toward the pitchy lake. I called to him to come back, that he was moving too far away from us, but there was never any getting Stapp to listen to reason when his anger was upon him.

Then Kilarion started to run toward him. I thought at first that he too wanted to join the fray, that in his simple fashion he envied Stapp his fun; but no, this time Kilarion meant only to rescue him from his own folly. I heard him calling out to Stapp, "Get back, get back, the beasts will kill you." Kilarion ripped one of the little waxy-looking trees from the ground as he ran and swung it like a broom, sweeping the apes out of his path as though they were bits of trash. One after another they went soaring through the air as they were struck, and dropped in dazed heaps many paces away.

But for Stapp, Kilarion's help came too late. One moment he stood by the edge of the lake, cudgeling apes in hot fury; and in the next, an ape had leaped upon his shoulders from the side and drawn its sharp talons across Stapp's throat, so that a gout of dark blood came leaping out; and another moment more and he was falling backward, backward, twisting as he fell. He landed face downward on the black pitchy surface of the lake and sank slowly into it while his blood bubbled up about him.

"Stapp!" Kilarion screamed, kicking apes aside so fiercely that one of them perished with every kick. He held the little tree that he carried out toward the fallen Stapp. "Grab the tree, Stapp! Grab it!"

Stapp did not move. His life's blood had gone surging out of him in no more than an instant or two and he lay dead in the thick tar. Kilarion, at the lake's border, slowly pounded the crown of the tree against the ground in dull rage and bellowed in anger and frustration.

It wasn't easy to take Stapp from the lake. The pitch held him in a gluey grasp, and we did not dare set foot in it, so we had to pull him out with grappling-hooks. Malti the Healer and Min the Scribe put together some words out of their memories to say for him, drawing the text from the Book of Death, and Jaif sang the dirge while Tenilda played the dirge-tune on her pipe. As for the special words that one must say when a member of the House of Judges dies, we couldn't remember them well, for there were no other Judges among us, but we did our best to say something. Then we buried him under a high cairn of boulders and moved on.

"Well," Kath said, "he was too hot-headed to have been a good Judge anyway."

When I looked back, several of the little yellow and green marsh-lights were dancing atop Stapp's cairn.

* * *

Now we moved outward toward the front edge of the Wall again, for on that side there was a kind of natural ramp which promised to take us upward, whereas inland the mountain's core rose in a single gleaming breathtaking thrust that struck our hearts with terror. For many days we wound our way along this outer ramp. It rose steeply but not unmanageably in some places, held level in others, and in some actually began to descend, giving us the disheartening thought that all we had accomplished in these days of struggle had been to discover a path leading down the far side of Kosa Saag that would take us to some unfriendly village of that unknown territory. But then we began to climb again, still keeping to the outer face of the Wall.

Strange winged creatures rode the air-currents high up in the great abyss that lay just beside our line of march. Not Wall-hawks, no: these had feathered wings. They seemed to be of colossal size, bigger than Wall-hawks: as big as roundhouses, for all we could tell. But we weren't sure. They were too far above us to judge. In the open space above us there was no way to establish scale. We saw them outlined against the brightness of the sky as they sailed on the lofty winds. Abruptly one would plummet like a falling stone, catching itself in mid-fall, rising again as if scanning for prey, finally darting inward to pick some hapless creature off the face of the Wall in one of the zones of the upper levels. It was a frightening thing to see, though they never came down as far as the level where we were marching now. Would we encounter them higher up? Would they swoop on us as we saw them swooping on other prey now? That was a dismaying thought, that there would be no safe harbor up there, that the Wall would test us and test us and test us, and would break us if it could. We might do better to turn again and head toward the interior of the Wall, I thought, toward some sheltered plateau where those deadly birds would not venture. But we had to go where it was possible to go, and for the time being the interior folds and gorges of the Wall were inaccessible to us and we were compelled to follow these outer trails.

As we ascended I could see more and more of the World. It was far bigger than I had ever imagined, rolling outward to the horizon for league upon league beyond all counting. Wherever there was a break in the white clouds below I was able to make out a host of rivers and hills and meadows, and more rivers and hills and meadows beyond those, and long green stretches of forest with dark smudges within them that I supposed were villages, so far away that very likely no one from any of the villages that cluster at the base of the Wall has ever been to them. Perhaps I was looking at the city where the King lives, for all I knew. I tried to imagine him in his palace, writing decrees that would go forth to provinces that were so far away that the new decrees would be obsolete and meaningless by the time word reached them that such-and-such a law had gone into effect.

At the very edge of the World I saw the sharp gray line of the horizon where the sky came down and touched the forest. What a strange place that must be, I thought, where your feet were on the ground and your head was in the sky! Was it possible to get there some day and find out what it was like? I stood in wonder, trying to comprehend how long it might take, traveling on foot, to reach that place where the sky met the land.

"You would never reach it," said Traiben, "not even if you marched for a thousand thousand lifetimes."

"And why is that, can you tell me? It looks far, yes, but not as far as all that."

Traiben laughed. "You would march forever."

"Explain yourself," I said, starting to grow irritated with him now.

"The World has no end," said Traiben. "You can walk around it forever and ever and the horizon will always lie ahead of you as you walk toward it."

"No. How can that be? When you walk somewhere, sooner or later you get where you're going."

"Think, Poilar. Think. Imagine yourself walking around a huge round ball. A ball has no end."

"But the World does," I said, with a surly edge to my voice. Traiben could be maddening when he insisted on making you think. Thinking was play for him, but it was work for most of the rest of us.

"The World is like a ball. See, see, where it curves away from us in the distance?"

I stared. "I don't see."

"Look harder."

"You are a great pain sometimes, Traiben."

"No doubt that I am."

"And any fool can tell you that the World is flat."

"Any fool can, yes," he said. "Certainly that is true. But all the same, saying so doesn't make it flat."

I looked toward the horizon. Perhaps the land did curve away a little out there. A little, perhaps. But what Traiben was saying was blasphemy, and it made me uncomfortable. The World is the Boat of Kreshe, floating on the surface of the Great Sea. Boats are longer than they are wide, and not round anywhere. A ball will float on water also, yes. But the World is not a ball. Still, I had to admit to myself that I could see a slight curvature far off near the horizon.

A trick of my vision, I told myself. The floor of the World is as flat as a carpet and it continues in that flatness until one comes to the edge, where the land drops off into the Great Sea. Traiben is too intelligent for his own good, I told myself: sometimes he sees things that are not there and builds strange theories about them, and then he treats you with condescension because you will not agree with him that things are the way he tells you that they are.

I shrugged and we began to talk of other matters. Otherwise I might have been tempted after a time to throw him over the side of the Wall, which is no way to treat your closest friend.

9

We wondered, as we climbed, why we saw no sign of the myriad others who must have come this way before us over the centuries: no campsites, no discarded trash, no lost tools, no burial cairns. After all, our village had sent its Forty up the mountain every year for more years than anyone could reckon, and as I understand it we are not the only village at the base of the Wall that keeps the custom of Pilgrimage. It seemed to us also that there had been very few choices of route facing us during our ascent: that everyone who had come in earlier years from our village, at least, must of necessity have taken the same path we had, more or less. So where were their traces?

But that was a sign of how innocent of the realities of the Wall we still were. Even now, having been on Kosa Saag for so many weeks and—so we thought—having come to an appreciation of its vastness, we had no serious understanding of its true size. We continued to think of it in terms of the little road that runs up its flank out of our village, which at that level is the only route that a sensible person would follow in going upward: the familiar milestones, Roshten, Ashten, Glay, Hespen, Sennt, and so forth. We imagined that the path we were taking now was the only logical extension of that road, and that everyone who had come before us must have done as we had done. But what we were not taking into account was that our village road is to the Wall as a raindrop is to a mighty river. Beyond Hithiat milestone the village road goes on to Varhad of the ghosts, yes, but there were other ways to ascend beyond Hithiat that we had not bothered to consider, and each of those ways forks outward into a dozen other ways, each of which would lead you back and forth in its own fashion across the face of the Wall and through the twisted and crumpled maze of interior routes, so that it is probably the case that no two parties of Pilgrims have ever taken the same way up Kosa Saag after the first few days of their climb. I should have kept in mind my mother's brother Urillin's parting words to me, that the Wall is a world, the Wall is a universe. But I did not arrive at an understanding of that until much later.

It was not to be long now, though, before we would find some sign of those who had undertaken the ascent of Kosa Saag before us.

We had slipped into a steady rhythm of climbing. Rise at dawn, bathe and eat, walk until midday. A meal; some singing; a time to relax; and then on the trail again until nightfall neared and it seemed wise to find a place to camp. We knew that we were gradually gaining elevation as we went, but this part of the climb seemed almost static, so gentle was the advance. It lulled us into a false sense of ease. Even Muurmut, who throughout the climb had been quick to dissent with any decision of mine that troubled him, was quiet. Most days the weather was fair, cooler than we were accustomed to but not at all unpleasant. Some days there was rain, occasionally even cold sleet; but we endured it.

Occasionally at night we heard the roaring of demons or monsters from the desolate hills above us. It was fearsome stuff, but we told ourselves that their roaring might be the worst part of them and they might well flee at our approach. Even the awareness that we now had exhausted all the food we had carried with us from the village did not trouble us. We foraged for our provender along the way, each of us taking a turn at sampling the strange berries and roots we found as Traiben had done that early time in the grove of the breast-fruit trees. Once in a while someone became ill for a few hours that way, and so we learned which things not to eat; but in general we ate well. The hunting was good and there was fresh meat to roast every evening.