3
On Caylus’ seventh birthday, his mother had brought him outside the Hilltop wall at sunrise. She led him to the back of the wall and stood with him on the cool sand while he rubbed his eyes. There were symbols painted in white across the wall, straight lines, whole circles, half-circles, broken lines, and curves arranged differently. Caylus had seen some of the symbols here and there before, but he’d rarely been outside the wall and couldn’t remember whether he’d seen all these.
“Today you’re seven years old,” she’d said, “halfway to thirteen, the age of adulthood.”
Caylus nodded and yawned.
“It’s time I told you everything, from the beginning.” She crouched beside him and pointed to the first symbol, a straight vertical line that stretched from the top of the wall to the bottom unbroken.
“This is the Spirit. Every story starts with him.” She pointed to the next symbol, a great circle with a dozen small circles linked inside it. “This here is everything that he made.”
Caylus looked down the wall and moved further along, examining the other symbols. He knew some of the story and symbols already. He paused at a human figure, with circles for head and body, bent lines for arms and legs. A bent horizontal line ran through the middle of its body. “This is us, right?”
“Yes,” she said. “The circles are for matter, the lines are for spirit.”
He looked to the first line, the Spirit. “Our lines are crooked.”
She nodded. “And short. Why do you suppose that might be?”
Another symbol caught his eye. It was a figure, like a human, but each of its four limbs were also circles. “What’s this?”
“Wait a minute,” she said. “There’s more to come before that.”
“It’s like us,” he said, tracing the shape with his hand. “But different. Is it all matter?”
“Yes,” she said. “Now–“
“Are they people?”
She bowed her head and sighed, but when she looked up, she was smiling. “Those are Golems. They’re another kind of people.”
“What are they like?”
She stood and took his hand, guiding him away from the wall, toward the open plain. “You see all this? The sand, the sky, and the stars beyond?” She turned and gestured toward the Hilltop, and the mountain looming behind it. “All of this, everything you see, and you yourself, are inside a Golem.”
“Everything?”
“Everything around us,” she said. “The whole world we live in.”
Caylus looked at the wall. “There’s more than one.”
“There are many Golems,” she said, “and many worlds.”
Caylus looked around him. The sun had broken over the horizon, throwing brilliant beams of light across the sky and long fingers of darkness across the sand. The mountain’s shadows sharpened over him.
“More worlds,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Like this one?”
“Like it in some ways, but different in others.”
“How?”
“I’ve never been to one, but I’ve heard stories. Other Golems held worlds that teemed with living creatures. There were beasts that ran through the air or dug through the earth, Creatures that built towers of sand and spittle. Creatures that flowed and fluttered like flags through the air.”
Caylus looked up at the sky and tried to picture it.
“Worlds with strange landscapes. Rocks that flowed like water, sand as clear as crystal, skies heavy as stone. Light like clay that you could mold in your hands. And trees.”
“Trees?”
She knelt down beside him. “Imagine a pillar of rock that split at the top and spread out into hundreds and hundreds of little forks. Each one has hundreds of little leaves that it uses to catch sunlight and build itself up even taller.”
Caylus’ mouth dropped open. He craned his neck back so far he dropped onto his backside and sat, staring up at the sky. His mother laughed.
After a moment, he lowered his head and looked straight at her. “This isn’t just a story? This is true?”
“It’s true, Caylus. All of it.”
“You wouldn’t lie?”
“No, dear one.”
Caylus sank onto his back and gazed up. The stars were slowly fading as the sun brightened the sky. “Can you go to those other places?”
She lay down on her side next to him and laid a hand on his chest. “If you find the Golems, they’ll take you inside themselves.”
Caylus swallowed. “Then I have to find them. I have to see those other animals, those other places. Those trees.”
She kissed his forehead. “I’m sure you will.”
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“How do you know all this?”
He looked at her and saw her smile sink.
“Your father’s people,” she said, “the Borunda. They discovered the Golems, hundreds of years ago. They explored them and described what they found. Your father gave me some of their accounts.”
“Can I read them?”
“Of course.”
“What happened to them? The Borunda? Are they still around? Did they discover all the Golems?”
“I don’t know if they found them all. They’re still around, but they’re fewer. They used to live in stone passages under Mount Ziand.” She gestured toward their mountain. “Years ago, a plague fell on them, destroying most and driving the rest away. Your father and his brothers escaped and found their way here.”
“That’s where you met?”
“Yes. When the plague was over, they went back to try rebuilding. But he and I came back here when you were born. Your uncle Gheras came with us.”
“What about my other uncle? Orti-Ortigur something?”
“Ortigart. He… he stayed to keep rebuilding.”
“Did he find any Golems?”
“I don’t know. I suppose he may have.”
“Could I ever meet him?”
Her answer came slower than before. “I’m not sure. He said he might come back, but that was long ago.”
“I hope he does.”
She fell silent, but he didn’t notice. He laid back and watched the day arise, dreaming of the worlds he’d uncover when his uncle came again.
*
Rahbin and Caylus’ mother stood by the gate until the sound of footsteps reached it, and there was a loud banging on the other side. “Hello in there! Joa? Gheras? Is anyone home?”
Caylus’ mother drew a deep breath. “We have to let him in, don’t we?”
“Not necessarily,” her brother said. “He doesn’t know we’re here.”
Caylus was surprised. He knew they were divided and uneasy about him, but he hadn’t thought they would leave him outside.
The two of them exchanged glances, and Rahbin pulled the bolt back and undid the latch. He opened the doors inward, groaning on their hinges. Ortigart stepped inside. He wore a thin gray cloak wrapped around his head and shoulders and dark-tinted lenses over his eyes. A heavy pack was strapped on his back, and he wore knee-length boots covered in a pale layer of dust.
He pulled the cloak off his head and removed the lenses. “This place hasn’t changed.”
Rahbin grunted. Caylus’ mother stepped forward and said, stiffly, “Welcome, Ortigart.”
“Ah, Joa,” Ortigart said, smiling formally, with his mouth, not his eyes. “Good to see you again. And you as well, Rahbin.”
Rahbin grunted again and nodded, hesitated, then said, “Welcome back, man. It’s been a long time.”
“What brings you here?” Caylus’ mother asked.
“A promise.” Ortigart turned and saw Caylus. “Hello there. You must be Randh’s son.” He lowered himself to one knee. “Good to meet you, boy.”
His hair was thin, and his skin pulled tight across his face, projecting his forehead and cheekbones forward.
“NeCaylus,” Joa said, “your uncle, ReOrtigart.”
Caylus swallowed. His hands trembled. “Good to meet you, sir.”
Ortigart looked up. “Is Gheras here?”
“He’s around back,” Joa said. “I’ll call him.”
Rahbin cleared his throat. “Please, come into the house. Refresh yourself.”
They started up the path toward the house. Esoala stood in the front doorway, arms crossed, face stony. Ortigart paused on the threshold, standing two heads taller than her, though his build wasn’t much broader than hers.
“You’re back,” she said.
“I am.”
“I trust you won’t be leaving another one of us dead when you go.”
Ortigart hesitated a moment, then released a short laugh. “You still have your sense of humor.”
She didn’t respond.
“Eso,” Joa said, “please.”
Esoala stepped aside, arms still crossed. They entered the house. Ortigart stood in the entryway and unslung his pack, while Rahbin and Joa stepped past him to get water and food. Esoala stood watching. Caylus hovered just inside the door.
Ortigart unwrapped the cloak from his neck and shoulders. Underneath, he wore a single-piece suit with long arms and legs, a belt cinched around his waist. Small, bright buttons ran up the torso, contrasting with the dull sandy color of the suit itself.
“This place hasn’t changed much,” Ortigart said. “But you–” he looked at Caylus– “you have, since I saw you last.”
Caylus resisted the urge to shrink back. He’d waited for years for this man to appear. Why was he afraid now he was here?
“How long are you staying?” Esoala asked.
“You look like Randh,” Ortigart said. “The way I remember him as a boy. A little darker.”
“I work in the sun a lot,” Caylus said.
“Yes, the sun.” Ortigart’s eyes flicked up toward Esoala, then focused on Caylus again. “Do you know about the Borunda and the Passages? Did your mother teach you?”
“I know about all four ages,” Caylus said. “From Father Behrund to the Great Plague.”
“Oh? Then you should know the greatest people of each age. The Primeval Age?”
“Father Behrund, of course.”
“And the age Before Times?”
“VaTora. He taught us how to build chimes to hear the Wind’s voice.”
“Exactly. And in the Expansion?”
“Queen BreSolodni.”
Ortigart smiled. “Yes. And in this age, the Twilight?”
Caylus’ mouth went dry. He opened it, but couldn’t speak.
Ortigart laughed and laid a large, bony hand on Caylus’ shoulder. “It’s a trick question. We don’t know, yet, who the greatest one of this age is.”
“Oh?” Esoala said. “I thought it was you.”
He looked up sharply, opened his mouth, hesitated. He licked his lips and said, “I would be a fool if I did my work without aspiring to accomplish something great and significant for my people. Whether that makes me the greatest of an age is impossible to tell.”
“But it’s still what you want.”
Joa appeared again, with a cup of water and a chunk of bread. She handed them to Ortigart.
“How long do you plan to stay?” she asked.
“Seven days. I left my Second Hand in command, and need to return before things start to slip.”
He drained his glass of water and wiped his mouth. “May I see my brother now?”
Joa nodded. “I’ll take you to him.”
She led him to the kitchen and the side door, leaving Caylus and Esoala behind.
Esoala shook her head. “He hasn’t changed. I didn’t think so.”
Caylus looked in the direction he’d gone. He wished he could have answered those questions better. He know so much more about VaTora and Father Behrund especially.
“Be careful, Caylus,” his aunt said. “Watch whatever he tells you.”