Beside the Rock and Cloud

by Pete Draper

  Barolos coughed as though he was going to puke at the sight, then turned his head with a scrunched up face. The wrinkles in his forehead shrank at the sight and smell of Carilyo.

  “We are in Cathis. You may want to empty dat.” Barolos’ wide nose crinkled at the stench, making his rock of a head less attractive than usual.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  “What’s that fucking noise!” Carilyo growled. His ears filled with an unpleasant, uneven ringing.

  “De shipwrights are fixing de hull.”

  Carilyo leaned against the bulkhead. The bucket filled the room with a foul smell, but he left it in the corner. With Barolos guiding Carilyo to his feet, the wobbling ground felt like a tidal wave vibrating against his clicking knees.

  Above deck, Cassi stood with hands on hips, tapping her shiny leather shoe on the floorboards. Her gold necklace glinted in the light, shimmering brightly against her shirt. Each of the precious gems on her fingers sparkled. “Ah, good to see you’re still alive, Captain.”

  “Urgh.” Carilyo placed a hand on his temple, shielding his eyes from the blinding sun with the other hand. He took a deep breath, trying to take in some fresh air. The smell that filled his lungs was the heavy scent of Cassi’s perfume, the density was overpowering.

  He retched. Portside was closest. Anticipating the sick, he hurried across, leaning over the side. After several gips, it didn’t come.

  Cassi’s shoes clicked as she approached. “It’s a hard life getting drunk and shirking your responsibilities ain’t it?” Her dense, expensive scent filled the air around him. Carilyo tried to take short, sharp breaths, but the perfume got him in the end. He spewed his guts overboard, much to the amusement of the crew. Taylan slapped his thigh and let out his screeching hyena laugh. Barolos looked away with a hand over his face.

  “Gross.” Cassi considered her brother with dark eyes of revulsion, the kind of look someone would give to a dog shitting on their garden.

  “How much fucking perfume did you put on?” Carilyo snapped. After spitting the last dregs of vomit from his mouth, he wiped his sticky lips with a finger, wincing at the burning ulcer. Cassi’s fragrance cut through the sick, sticking to his tongue with a horrid dry feeling.

  “Fuck off Carilyo. I like it.” Cassi placed a hand on her hip, just below her leather corset. She looked at her black fingernails. “Hurry the fuck up, you have work to do.”

  Carilyo turned from his leaning position, the sun obscured Cassi’s outline with her head eclipsing it. Cassi’s round face curved into a crooked smile; her deep purple lipstick shone. She wore so much mascara and eyeshadow, Carilyo could barely see her eyes.

  His sister leaned in, whispering in his ear. “It’s your turn to help offload the goods, I’ma go enjoy our hard work with a drink.”

  Through squinted eyes, Carilyo scanned the deck for his bottle. “Looking for this?” Cassi asked. She gripped the half-empty bottle in her hand like she had a chicken by the throat. The thick piece of winding string was hanging on for dear life beneath the cork. “Maybe I’ll let you have it… when you’ve finished.”

  Cassi stepped aside. A blinding light bit Carilyo’s eyes, a multitude of spots appeared when he blinked. He clenched his fist when Cassi turned her back.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Carilyo snapped at Barolos.

  Offloading the Araxian contraband was a gruelling task. The silks were heavy, and the spices attacked his nostrils, though they weren’t as overpowering as Cassi’s perfume. They loaded them into barrels and crates so they wouldn’t be seen, which took even longer. All the time the ulcer throbbed in his mouth and his hungover head pounded.

  Carilyo watched Cassi slip one of the dock officials a few coins. The tall buildings of Cathis were a blur through his fuzzy eyes.

  “Your sister, she has a way with people.” Taylan rolled a barrel down the ramp with an easy flick of his hips. The Trakian had dark leathery skin and a red rash on the back of his neck. A green fly was stuck there, feeding on him. The red tattoo of the Howling Dragon on his wrist was faded, the orange flames bursting from its mouth weren’t as bright as they once were.

  A mosquito buzzed irritatingly around Carilyo’s ear, he swatted it away. “She knows what she’s doing, particularly in Traki. She has men wrapped around her finger. Lucky for me, I see right through her. I always have.” The mosquito came back for more but was met by Carilyo’s firm palm.

  “I love being back in Cathis,” Taylan said.

  Carilyo sighed. Not again.

  “Zernando looked upon the barren land…” Taylan began to recite the holy scriptures of the Complex Book. Carilyo and Barolos groaned. Nevertheless, Taylan continued, “He told the builders, you have twenty-eight days, to build me the greatest city ever seen.”

  Taylan’s voice changed to a deeper, gormless grunt when he changed character, “But why twenty-eight days?”

  He held out both hands, as though he had built the city himself, then continued in the voice of Zernando, “Because twenty-eight is a perfect number, for my perfect city.”

  Rows of identical parallel white buildings stood a perfect distance from one another. Each of the cuboid houses had a balcony upstairs. The only character these buildings possessed was the different chairs and furnishings in those balconies, even most of those were identical.

  “Just look at it.” Taylan’s face wore the sort of smile the proudest of parents would give to their favourite child. “Perfect in every way; mathematically, physically, aesthetically.” His hand gripped into a passionate fist.

  Further over, the royal palace overlooked the city. That was much prettier, it stood out amongst the indistinguishable structures around it. The tapia palace was ten storeys tall; there were a mix of different coloured rows, some orange, some white. Every other floor had a balcony where secturion guards patrolled outside; they must have been roasting in their steel armour and scarda helmets. A platform protruded from the top floor, diagonal beams held it up.

  Carilyo couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man with long black hair on the platform, looking down at the sea. Despite there being no wind, the man’s hair was flapping around as though there was a hurricane up there.

  “I prefer Puritudo, it’s much prettier,” Barolos said.

  “Meh, you Katalians know nothing,” Taylan curled up his lip in distaste. “It has been a while since I’ve been home. I’m going to pray.”

  As Taylan descended the ramp, Cassi returned.

  “More officials, more bribes,” Cassi said. With a frustrated shake of her head, her thick jet black hair swayed. “Soon we’ll be making a loss. I need to meet with the quartermaster and get the goods out of our hands.”

  “Sounds like a good time for a drink.” Carilyo burped, feeling the gaseous acid vapours rise from his stomach. Pressing a fist to his mouth, he managed to stop them at the back of his throat, the smell of rum and acid was nearly enough to make him vomit. The fumes floated over his ulcer, causing an intense sting throughout his mouth, the pain made his stomach grumble again.

  He could sense Cassi’s firm eyes burning into him, she would be so embarrassed if he threw up on the street.

  “You look like you’ve had enough to drink already.” Cassi’s unimpressed eyes were infuriating to look at.

  “It’ll delay the hangover, you know that,” Carilyo’s voice was abrupt, impatient. He knew she was trying to wind him up, she so often succeeded.

  “Don’t get too drunk, you know how much I hate this dog-hole of a country.” Cassi dangled the rum bottle by the string, sliding it down her finger until it hung from her black fingernail.

  It slipped.

  Carilyo darted forwards, grabbing it like his life depended on it, grazing his knee in the process. As he rose, their eyes met. All the years of animosity bubbled into a disgusting stew of resentment.

  “You’re pathetic. You are captain of a ship, but you crawl around like a snivelling dog.” Cassi scowled at him. “You’d be someone’s bi
tch if they kept the alcohol coming.”

  Carilyo climbed to his feet. “At least I don’t slap colours all over myself until people can’t see my face anymore.”

  Cassi’s eyes narrowed. “I mean it when I say, don’t get too fucking drunk.”

  “Yes ok.” Carilyo turned to look for the nearest bar.

  Before he could stand, Cassi grabbed him by the shirt-collar, yanking his upper body forwards until their eyes were uncomfortably close. He saw the embers of fury glimmer in those dark eyes. “I mean it.”

  One of her sharp rings scratched his neck as she shoved him. She wiped the blood on Carilyo’s shirt as though it might give her a disease.

  Her teeth locked together, “If I have to search the flea-infested toilets they call pubs around here again, I might leave you behind.”

  “I wish you would,” Carilyo muttered.

  “If you taught me how to sail the ship like you promised years ago, I wouldn’t need to keep you around. I could buy your share of the Howling Dragon.”

  “You don’t have the money. Besides, I’ll never give up my share, we’ll only be free of each other if I buy you out.”

  “I can dream.” Cassi stared him down.

  The sticky hair covered Carilyo’s eyes, he wiped it away with a flick. “Would you mind?” He held out an open palm. The flames burned deep in Cassi’s eyes, they sizzled. Her hands dug into the leather satchel which hung behind her. She pulled out some coins, then slapped a couple of sects into his palm before stomping off.

  Carilyo wiped dust from the gold coins, the head of King Persis was turned to one side with an oversized crown above it. The more he rubbed at the dusty edge, the dirtier the coin became. He turned his hand over, realising it was his hands that were covered with a layer of grubbiness.

  “Maybe it’s time for a wash.” He sniffed his armpit, immediately regretting it. An odour he’d never experienced before breached the hairs in his nostrils. It felt certain he’d hurl again, but he managed to resist.

  With the bucket of water placed on the steps to the quarterdeck, Carilyo gave his hands and face a scrub. He rubbed some into his armpits, smelling his fingers after to see if the vile scent had gone, despite being watered down a little, it remained. Carilyo shaved his chin the best he could with the rusty straight razor, he reminded himself to save enough to buy a new one when he got his share from the last job. With a violent sting, the ulcer reminded him to visit a chemist too.

  When he descended the ramp, he felt an unshaved tuft of hair beneath his chin, but was too fagged to go back and deal with it.

  “Oh, the unbearably hot city of Cathis,” Carilyo looked around, “I haven’t missed you.” He fanned the warmth from his face. Cathis was the Capital of Traki, the lead country of the Golden Empire, of which Kataly belonged to.

  Tall buildings invited him either side. On a sunny day, the white walkway of Theorem Square was tough on the eyes. The dark, perpendicular alleys beside were a nice break from the blinding light.

  “Oh no.” Carilyo covered his face as a transcendental priest with a Complex Book in one hand approached. His black tunic had a gold tetractys in the centre, the digits of C, Complessa’s irrational number spiralled out from it in white. There were thousands of them, shrinking more the further out they got.

  “Join us, young man, as we pray to Complessa, and the beauty of mathematics,” the priest tried to welcome him.

  “Sorry, I have somewhere to be.” Carilyo hurried along. Although Complexity was the official religion of the Golden Empire, most Katalians still believed in Ancestry, Carilyo was one of the latter. His papa was up in the Hall of Ancestors, ready to welcome him someday.

  “Alas, there is only a finite amount of volume in the Complex Plane. Not all of us can bask in Complessa’s glory when we transcend from this world.”

  Carilyo raised a puzzled eyebrow.

  The priest turned back to his flock of Trakian worshippers, “The importance of proof, it is the only way we can make any statement with certainty. Without it, all we have is conjecture.” Taylan nodded along like a happy dog.

  The priest placed his hands together and lowered his head. “We pray to the completeness of proof.”

  “The completeness of proof,” his followers chanted. They all drew the complete proof symbol in the air with a finger, starting from the top left corner, they drew each side of a square clockwise.

  With a disbelieving shake of the head, Carilyo turned away from Taylan, making his way further into the city.

  At the end of the road, a sharp glow lit the edges of the Tetrahedron. A square plaza of white stone surrounded it. Three cypress trees were all that decorated the plaza, each one in line with the vertices of the Tetrahedron. The building was a shiny black on its sloping faces, the edges were silver, the vertices gold. Each doorway was nothing more than a hole in the wall. The gold statue of Complessa stood proud. Even in statue form, her beauty was mesmerising.

  The building had been built in remembrance of her, as so many things in the Arrizean were. Zernando’s love for Complessa was well-known sectuaries after her death.

  Carilyo’s eyes followed the paving slabs to his feet, wondering what was beneath. It was rumoured that the offices of the Tetrahedron spread for miles, under the streets of Cathis. He shuddered at the thought of what secret experiments were being performed down there.

  The sign outside the door of the pub hung by a single chain, the other was snapped off. The jolly ranger didn’t look so jolly standing on his side with half his face eroded; he patted his belly in satisfaction though. Pigeons sat on the ledge above, a splash of green and white droppings littered the entrance. It was such a dump, so close to the prettiest parts of the city too.

  At least it was dark inside, though the stale smell didn’t help his hangover; nor the reek of smoke, nor the slam on the table when a glass was slapped down. Carilyo’s wooden sandals stuck to the floor. He looked past his long shorts to the sticky wooden boards, thick patches of ale, wine or blood spread across them.

  “Why hasn’t anyone cleaned this up?” Carilyo grumbled to himself. The stains looked like they’d been there a good, long while.

  A cloud of smoke floated across the room. A thick black lightning stripe split it down the middle. Carilyo wafted it away with a lazy backhand. A flabby Trakian puffed on a cigar in the corner, swirling the smoke around his fat mouth. A long black beard of scraggly hairs hung from his chin. Half his shirt was unbuttoned, several gold chains sparkled over his white-haired chest.

  Pursing his lips, the Trakian let out another puff, his eyes looking lazily across the room.

  At the bar, a silhouette of a man took a swig of lager, the back of his head sticking out from the veil of smoke.

  Carilyo perused the selection from his stool. He faintly recognised the barman’s face, his bald head and rattail hair were familiar, as was the sparkling ring on his finger.

  “We have Maulheim’s finest,” Rattail offered, slumping the bottle on the bar. “Half price.”

  Carilyo scrunched his nostrils up at the Levacian ale. Cassi hadn’t given him much, but he wasn’t that desperate. “I’ll take the Rockland lager, Mjoed.” He pressed the coin firmly on the worn bar. The surface was stickier than the floor. He peeled his arm away, then slid the sect coin across as he was handed the glass.

  “Is that Carilyo?” The silhouette came into focus, his hair was bushy. The man turned sluggishly; bright red cheeks rose above his ginger muttonstache.

  “Donal.” Carilyo peered as though he was a mile away. “Great to see you.” His glass tipped back, deep enough for the liquid to overtake the froth as it slid into his thirsty mouth. The refreshing mix filled his mouth, he licked the froth from in front of his teeth. Then he felt the sting in the ulcer, the painful reminder of its existence.

  “How long’s it biyn?” The Rocklander, Donal slurred in his island accent. His blue eyes rippled like waves as they tried to focus on Carilyo.

  “Too long, old friend.�
�� He tapped the Rocklander’s arm harder than intended, nearly knocking him off his stool. “Too long. What’re you up to these days?”

  The Trakian in the corner exhaled again, puffing out so hard it sounded like a gale was coming in. The smoke filtered through Carilyo’s nostrils, he wafted his arm, but soon it was all he could smell.

  “Same as always.” Donal belched, wiping beer from his thick facial hair. “Sailin’ the wonderful Merged Seas of the Arrizean and Green Sea. What could be better?” Donal burped louder than before; the vapours seeped over to Carilyo. “Sorry, I tink I ate a dodgy curry.”

  “As I’ve always said. Don’t touch the food in Traki unless it’s bubbling,” Carilyo smirked. “How’s business?” His glass was nearly empty after the last gulp. It had gone down way too easily. To make matters worse, it made the ulcer more violent; he’d hoped the alcohol would have calmed it.

  “Could be better, but still.” Donal shrugged; eyes focused on Carilyo’s near-empty glass. “Another?” Donal nodded at the barman, sliding a couple of coins over to him. “Two more playse.”

  “You are too kind Donal.” Carilyo tapped his pocket as though he had anything in there; he rarely did. “Cassi has the rest of my money. I’ll pay you back next time.” His mind wandered back to the most recent spat with his sister, wasn’t sure how many more of those he could take.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m forever grateful for what yous did back in Sholtorn. I’d be in a labour camp if it weren’t for yous.”

  “It was nothing,” Carilyo said nonchalantly. He slapped his empty glass on the bar, starting on the second.

  Donal clunked his glass down, the noise was a little too loud for Carilyo’s sensitive, hungover ears. He massaged his temple as a violent light stabbed his eyes. To make matters worse, another smoke cloud floated over, it was all he could smell and taste. Then the ulcer came back with a vengeance, despite the aching, he couldn’t help but prod it with his tongue. All his senses conspired against him.