Pyramid Schemes, Page 4

  When I awoke, the sun had just descended into its rest. Darkness stretched across my surroundings and the air was somewhat cooler.

  A small furred creature was staring at me.

  I had no idea what it was, nor I suspected did it have any idea what I was. We exchanged looks and I kept its gaze fixed upon me as my hand stealthily crept toward the knife I had on my hip. In one smooth motion I yanked the knife out, brought it around and slammed it through the creature’s chest. It let out a startled yelp, kicked several times more in surprise than anything else, and then died.

  I skinned it as quickly and efficiently as I could. Then I made my way back to the bush that had, hours earlier, been aflame. I stared at it for a long moment and then shifted my gaze to the heavens. Stars twinkled down upon me.

  “Would you mind?” I asked. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

  For a brief time there was silence, and then suddenly the bush flared back to life.

  “Thank you,” I said and proceeded to cook the creature. It only took a few minutes because the fire was quite brisk and the creature was small. Once it was sufficiently roasted I devoured the flesh from its bones. It tasted nothing like chicken, which actually surprised me a bit.

  I tossed the bones aside when I was done, wiped my face, and then walked away from the oasis. The bush surrendered its flame and restored itself to a standard, ordinary, not remotely holy piece of vegetation.

  Then I began walking.

  My mind, however, was racing ahead of me as I envisioned what I would do next.

  If I was going to free the Shews as I had been instructed to do, then I was going to require an ally. And there was only one person I could think of because she was the only member of the downtrodden race that I knew. That was Rebeka. That meant that I had to find her.

  Of course I didn’t have the faintest idea of where to look.

  As I often did when I was trying to come up with a concept, I gazed heavenward looking for inspiration. I supposed that it was especially appropriate considering that I was being given instructions by a being who dwelled up there.

  I was extremely surprised by what I saw. There was a star shining in the heavens high above that I had never seen before. Yes, granted, I was in a country other than where I had grown up, but the stars should not have been so exceedingly different that I was spotting one of that magnitude for the first time. Part of me wondered whether it was something that Bob might have tossed up for my guidance. Was that possible? Was he actually trying to guide me somewhere?

  Why not? Gods were certainly capable of accomplishing anything they set their minds to.

  With a mental shrug, I decided to surrender to the obvious and follow the lead that the star provided.

  I made my way back a bit more briskly than I had when I had entered the desert. No doubt the absence of the sun pummeling down upon me lent relative wings to my feet. The star remained remarkably low in the sky, and while other stars seemed to move in the heavens, this one remained fixed in place. The longer it did, the more convinced I became that someone from on high had positioned it there. Why they had done so, I could not guess. What was it trying to lead me towards? What was I supposed to do once I got there? It continued to make no sense.

  Then again, there was no reason that it should have made any sense. Gods are vast, unknowable beings, and we mere mortals cannot hope to process what goes through their minds.

  As I walked, I wondered where gods came from. According to all our mythos, gods created us, but who created gods? I had never really pondered that before since gods had always seemed something that was far away and not of much interest to me. That had obviously changed since the confrontation with the burning bush.

  So then who fashioned the gods, and from what? Did the gods pray to them as we prayed to the gods? I did not know, and could not help but think that such things were far beyond the mere musings of one crippled mortal. Nevertheless I could not help but dwell upon it.

  My path did not take me into the heart of Giro. Instead as I followed the star, I was drawn to a smaller village some distance away from the city. I glanced at my map, trying to discern the details upon it. As near as I could determine, the area was known by its citizens as Jeruslahem. As opposed to the busy city of Giro, Jeruslahem was much more quaint, if that was the correct word. I also could not help but notice that, the further I drew into it, the more places of worship I was able to spot. No single religion seemed to dominate.

  I have never deeply discussed religion in any of my previous tomes, nor do I see the need to do so here. There is an old tale involving several blind men who come upon an elephant, and each of them feels some different portion of the creature. Their assessment of the beast’s physical makeup varies depending upon what part of the elephant they are touching. The one touching the trunk, for instance, believes that it is akin to snakes, while another, touching the leg, concludes that it is similar to trees because of the toughness of the skin.

  It has always been my opinion that the world’s religions are the equivalent of blind men caressing an elephant. The elephant, of course, is God, or the gods, or what we perceive as the true answer to the way in which the world functions. There is no doubt in my mind that there is, in fact, some manner of great truth beyond what our five senses are able to perceive. And the different religions are all blind men stroking it and deciding for themselves what actually constitutes its make up. All of them are wrong, just as were the men touching the elephant. The truth, the great ultimate truth, whatever that might be, is simply inaccessible to we mere mortals. Perhaps there is indeed an afterlife wherein, upon death, the real story behind the hopeless, luckless existence most of us survive under is revealed to us. More than likely we simply reside in dirt while worms snack upon us.

  Such cheerful facts rattled around in my brain until I felt exhaustion beginning to swim within my head. Fortunately enough there was an inn just ahead of me. I glanced upward and saw that the star was shining directly above it. I discarded the two as being connected; it was simply coincidence, that was all. A trick of the stars that was playing hob with my imagination.

  I entered the inn. The man I took to be the innkeeper was standing in the middle of the main room, passing a broom with vague disinterest over the floor. He glanced up at me and said, as if he were sharing a frustrating secret with me, “I can never get the damned thing clean.”

  “Well, it’s a dirt floor,” I pointed out.

  He sighed and stopped sweeping, leaning on the room. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I’m looking for a room for the night.”

  “Not a problem,” he said. He set the broom aside and walked behind a small desk that was set up off to the right. “We have one room left. Your name?”

  “Apropos,” I said.

  He stared up at me as if he thought that I was jesting. Then he saw the deadpan on my face and shrugged. “You must have had a strange mother,” he commented.

  “You have no idea.”

  He had rolled open a parchment and tapped a section of it. “Sign here,” he said, handing me a pen with ink dripping from the point. I scratched my name on it as best I could and then presented him with the asked-for amount of money required for the room.

  “You in town for business?” he asked.

  “Just passing through.”

  “Well, the best of luck to you. Up the stairs, first door on the right.”

  As I turned to head for the stairs, a young couple entered. The man looked worn and haggard, but the woman was the one who caught my attention. She was profoundly pregnant; she seemed as if she were ready to burst. She was wincing a bit; she might have been in the first stages of labor right then and there. Her brown hair was wet. Clearly she was sweating profusely.

  Quickly they approached the attendant. “Do you have a room?” asked the young man.

  “Sorry. No room at the inn,” said the man behind the desk apologetically. “This fellow just got the last one.”r />
  The man’s gaze shifted to me hopefully. Clearly he was hoping that I would give up my room for them. A feat of supreme generosity, which I had absolutely no intention of doing.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m bone tired and I need to get some sleep. I’m sure you can find another inn somewhere.”

  The man seemed outraged at my dismissal of their obvious needs, but the woman put a hand gently on his arm. “He was here first,” she said softly. “It’s all right.” She shifted her gaze to the man behind the desk. “Are there any other inns in the area?” “I’m afraid not.”

  “Is there anywhere we can go?”

  The attendant shrugged. “We have a stable out back. You can go there, I suppose. ”

  “A stable?” The young man was bristling with outrage. “Look at her! You would have her lie outside with animals! She is not an animal! Her baby is not an animal!”

  His phrasing was slightly surprising to me. “Don’t you mean ‘our?’”

  He turned and looked at me. “What?”

  “You said ‘her’ baby. It is yours, too, is it not? You are the father?”

  He seemed momentarily thrown off by the question but then he quickly nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course. I am the father. This is my wife. Who else would be the father? Are you daring,” and his voice rose somewhat, “to impugn my wife’s loyalty?”

  “Not at all,” I immediately assured him. “I don’t know her and I don’t know you. Your phrasing was just odd, that’s all.”

  ‘The stable will be fine,” the young woman said quickly. “How much do we owe you?”

  “Nothing.” The attendant waved her off. “Feel free to just go there.”

  She nodded gratefully and she and her husband headed out the door. But before they reached it, the attendant abruptly said, “You’re Shews, aren’t you.”

  How he could have told, I have no idea. Perhaps it was their attire. Although the attendant was wearing a light toga as many of the Rogyptians did, they were much more heavily clothed in brown robes draped over white, full-length garments.

  Whatever the reason, the man quickly said “no” at the exact same moment that the woman began to say “yes.” He fired a warning look at her and immediately she corrected herself, also saying “no.” Then the man continued, “We are not Rogyptians. We are passing through, returning to my home.”

  “Well, good journey to you,” said the attendant.

  The man fired me a last angry glance before he strode out with her. I heard her moan softly as they disappeared through the door and then immediately erased them from my mind.

  I headed upstairs to my room.

  It was quite small. A single dresser with a single drawer stood off to the side, and there was a chamber pot that at least appeared clean, so I was thankful for small favors. A single cot with a strawfilled mattress occupied the wall on the opposite side of the room. If the young couple had had this room they would not have been able to share it unless she lay atop him. And considering that was doubtlessly how she had gotten into trouble in the first place, I didn’t consider that to be a huge likelihood.

  I tumbled onto the bed and the straw rustled beneath me. I waited for sleep to overcome me.

  And I waited.

  And waited.

  I have no idea how long I lay there, staring up at the ceiling. I wondered if the star had moved on in its path or if it was still hovering over me for no reason.

  But my mind kept wandering back to the poor young woman. Not the man; I didn’t give two damns about him. His wife, however, whom I noticed had been leaning against him for support…

  She seemed so wan, so haggard, and yet there was an air of peace that she seemed to wear like a cloak. I could not get over it, how calm she seemed. Perhaps it was the pregnancy that brought her such obvious tranquility. For all I knew, when she wasn’t carrying a child, she was a complete harridan. But that was mere speculation. All I could know for sure was what my observation at the moment told me. It might well have been my imagination, but there seemed to be a sort of glow around her. I had heard tell that pregnant women supposedly glowed, but never actually witnessed it.

  The more I thought about her, the more I concluded how much more comfortable she would be in the bed that I was occupying. I felt an unusual sensation coursing through my veins and came to the horrific realization that it was guilt. I was actually feeling guilt for having had the good fortune to occupy the last room at the inn. This was extraordinarily unusual for me. Guilt was not something that was ordinarily in my emotional vocabulary, and the fact that I was feeling it in relation to the pregnant woman was extremely odd.

  Perhaps you are growing up a sarcastic voice suggested to my inner consciousness, and I quickly endeavored to shunt it aside. I had no interest in second-guessing myself and even less interest in developing something as pointless as a conscience.

  Yet the poor woman was out there, huddled in a stable, desperately trying to get some sleep while I lay upon a bed. Not a terribly comfortable bed, but still…

  “Damn it,” I muttered and rolled off the bed. I dressed quickly, grabbed my sack with my possessions, my staff and weapons, and made my way down the short flight of steps. The attendant was not visible; there was no one in the main room. That was not surprising. He had likely gone to bed. Anyone who was sane was asleep by this point.

  I made my way out the front door and around to the back where I knew the stable would be. I had expected it to be dark. Instead, to my surprise, there was a lamp burning within that was providing light. To my even greater surprise, I heard the soft whimpering of an infant. I was astounded. Apparently she had given birth out in the stable. I wasn’t sure there was intrinsically anywhere superior for such an endeavor. Most people were born in their place of residence with the aid of a midwife, a mother, or on their own. At least she had the company of some animals to provide additional warmth.

  At that point whatever residual emotions I had remaining in the situation were set aside. Of course she could have my bed. The woman had just given birth, for the love of the gods. She and her infant deserved a decent bed, not some blankets or sheets tossed together in a stable to provide some manner of cushion. With my shoulders set, I walked to the stable and entered.

  I was quite surprised to discover that the place was far more populated than I could have imagined. The smell was thick with hay and, of course, animal fur. There was a donkey and a cow looking on, but what was curious was that three men were standing there as well. They looked as if they had just crossed the desert, and were gazing in what appeared to be wonderment at the child. All of them were dark skinned with thick beards. Perhaps they were brothers, although I had no way of knowing for sure. They were dressed in flowing robes of varied colors and their expressions were not just of wonderment (as I mentioned) but also of—I know of no other way to put it—reverence. What in the name of all that was holy did they have to be reverent about? It was a damned baby.

  I stared at the baby. Its mother, lying nearby, looking exhausted, had placed it in a manger.

  The baby stared back.

  I tried to figure out what the three men were seeing in this child that I could not. Had they never seen an infant before? It made no sense.

  It wasn’t even especially cute. No one had wiped the remains of whatever a child must pass through in exiting the womb from its face. Its eyes were open narrowly, and it had stopped its whimpering. Now it just seemed to be staring out at the world with great fascination, as if it were trying to determine how and why it had been evacuated from its previous comfortable residence into this new, vaster place. And it was indeed looking right at me. This struck me as quite odd, because newborn children did not generally focus on anything in particular because typically they could not see anything.

  I tried to imagine what it saw when it stared at me. I could not even begin to.

  Yet something in its gentle expression actually caused me to relax. I had no idea why that would be, but I actually felt
as if I was drawing some manner of comfort from the little creature.

  “Hello,” I said to the child.

  It didn’t respond. Naturally.

  The father looked up in surprise and he frowned. “What are you doing here?”

  “I, uhm,” and I shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. I’m not going to be keeping the room. So I felt that you would be able to make better use of it.”

  “That…is very kind of you,” said the man. He was obviously touched by the gesture. “My wife and son could use the rest.”

  “Son. Congratulations.” I glanced at the three men. “Who are you?”

  And then, before they could answer, I heard the sound of feet marching toward the stable. Not only that, but I heard metal slapping against flesh. The sound that armed men made when their swords bounced off their bare thighs.

  Soldiers. Soldiers were coming.

  And there was a newborn Shewish boy lying five feet away from me.

  “Get him out of here,” I said immediately.

  They stared at me in confusion. “What? Why?” said the father.

  “If you don’t want your son to die in the next ten seconds, you’ll do as I say.”

  The new father was astounded and confused. “Are you threatening him?”

  “No, I’m not threaten—will you just go!?”

  I was too late. I heard the footfalls directly behind me and spun to see two of the Rama’s soldiers. It wasn’t the same ones whom I had seen earlier kill the boy in the basket, but they might as well could have been. They looked right past me and straight at the boy. “That’s a Shewish boy, isn’t it,” demanded one of them.

  Immediately the reason for their presence made itself clear to me. The man in the inn, the attendant. He had summoned the authorities upon realizing that two members of a race who were not in good standing in Rogypt had materialized with a soon-to-be first born child on the way. The attendant was laboring under the exact same rules that the Rama had put forward. Perhaps there was even an award for providing such services to the leader of Rogypt.