The Shining Cities: An Anthology of Pagan Science Fiction

by Lauren Teffeau

  “What have gods ― or demigods ― ever done for me and the women who came before me? My grandmother prayed to Shiva and my mother prayed to Kali. They died young and penniless for their faith. And men used us … all three of us … any way they wanted … right up until I started playing by men’s rules. I’ve taken what I needed whenever I needed it, and I’ll keep doing so till I’m dead.”

  “Is that why you led those men there? To kill me?”

  Eka laughed… not a guffaw or a giggle … it was genuine laughter. “Not at all … I would have been surprised if they had … and disappointed.” Eka started walking again, as did Kerani.

  “So you led them there to die?”

  “I led them there for the money they paid me and the money they were going to pay me. You didn’t happen to take a large pouch off the waist of a man wearing a deep blue turban with a gold star and red feather, did you?”

  “Their leader?”

  “Yes.” Eka was momentarily hopeful.

  “No. What would I need with a pouch?”

  “Of course,” Eka chided herself. “What does a demigod need with money?”

  Something suddenly occurred to Kerani. “Did you bring the other two armies to my doorstep?” she asked calmly and without turning her head to the girl.

  Eka hesitated and licked her lips with doubt. She’d never dealt with a demigod before and didn’t know if they could sense truth or not. Better not to risk it, she thought. Her mistress had told Eka to be open if asked anything. The demigod hadn’t seemed to mind that she led the last group of men, so why would she mind the others? “My mistress wrote the scrolls to open the gate, but she’s old and cannot move from her home, so yes,” she said quietly. “I led them to you.”

  “And you knew they would die?”

  “Yes,” she said as they cleared the trees and saw a long hill rising before them. A mile in the distance, at the top of a gentle hill stood a large village that had torches burning around its low-walled perimeter. They could just make out the top of the intricate, white stone of the Rameswaram temple brightly illuminated by torches set at its corners from bottom to top.

  “Who were they?” Kerani asked as they started up a winding path leading to Rameswaram.

  “The first group was made up of troops from Mysore. Their Raja had gotten it into his head that possessing the Scroll would give him more leverage in his alliance with Wellesley II and the Brits. You see, Mysore allied with Wellesley I back around 1805, and they’ve regretted it ever since. Everyone spits on Mysore now, Indians and British alike, and their Raja is sick of it.”

  “What of the second army?”

  “They were men of this country, Nizam’s Dominion, but from far to the north in the capital of Hyderabad. Shortly after Mysore tried for the scroll, Nizam Ali Kahn learned of Mysore’s interest, so he decided to send men after it. It was more to keep Mysore from getting it than anything else. Nizam and Mysore have redrawn the border between them in men’s blood a dozen times with skirmishes and battles. They’ve been fighting since the British were repelled and forced to occupy what little Indian soil they have around Bombay. The Brits call it New Bembridge, by the way, but Nizam refused to acknowledge British ownership. Nizam’s not a bad leader, I suppose. I actually felt bad leading his men to you. He does seem to care about his people, and he was the first of the Rajas to end slavery. He’s even kept the French on a short leash to make sure they don’t do what Great Britain tried to.” It occurred to Kerani that much had happened to India as she whiled away the centuries in meditation.

  They walked along in silence as Kerani pondered everything the girl had said. Eka was clearly an opportunist, and Kerani had developed some respect for the young thief who seemed undaunted by the cruel twists and turns life had bestowed upon her. However, Kerani was not willing to endure a never-ending chain of battles as more men came through the gate and made their puny attempts at the scroll. She enjoyed her peace and quiet -– her long meditations along the shores of the black lake basking in the warmth of Mount Kailash -– and had lost interest in the evolving histories of mortal long ago.

  The key was the girl’s mistress. If the gate scrolls could not be written, the girl could not lead men into the realm of Shiva, and Kerani could have peace once again. The thought occurred to her to kill the girl… for her insolence and meddling. But there was something about Eka that Kerani had to respect. Against all odds and against a litany of abuses and injustice for at least three generations, this girl had overcome it all. She was a thing to be reckoned with, and she faced life without fear. Such things should not be snuffed out before they’d run their course, Kerani thought, and the demigod knew that Kali’s will was present. She could sense it in Eka, could sense the taint of divine favor. Kali was guiding this girl’s destiny in some fashion, despite the young mortal’s disdain for gods. Kerani peered at Eka in the darkness, the young girl illuminated in the glow of white towers gleaming in the night above them. She could see a trace of burgeoning greatness and knew without doubt that Eka was destined to become something greater than just a mere thief.

  They crossed the threshold of Rameswaram, a low wall stretching off to their left and right. The wall was split by the now stone-cobbled path that carried them past simple stone and mud-daub archways. The streets were empty, but torches lit their path. They quietly made their way to the center of town and entered a bazaar where brightly colored carts lined the marketplace, each one of them shuttered for the night.

  At the far corner of the bazaar, Eka led them down a side-street that stretched into near darkness. Wooden doorways broke up stone walls on the left and right every twenty feet, and there was a single torch at the end illuminating an unadorned intersection where cobble-stones ended in tight-packed soil. Upon reaching it, Eka turned to the right down the narrower of the two branches and continued on with only a sliver of moonlight lighting their path as it shone like a silver crack in the earth. Kerani could see that the alley ended in a stone wall, and at the end on the right was a curtained doorway with bright, flickering candlelight shining through a frail, gossamer-blue fabric depicting an intricate visage of Kali herself.

  “My mistress is within,” Eka said as she stepped up to the doorway. “She would very much like to meet you.” Eka parted the curtains and stepped into a brightly lit room full of candles and simple furnishings. There was an ornate altar dedicated to Kali covered with sacrifices of flowers, fruit and incense. Eka held the curtain aside and ushered Kerani in, motioning to the left where an ancient woman sat. She was covered in blue satin robes and a gleaming white shawl that covered white hair done in a braid that hung down the front of her chest. The old woman sat on a pile of plain but brightly-colored pillows.

  Kerani stepped up before the woman and sensed a wealth of divine energy pouring forth from her. As she stepped up, the aged woman pulled the shawl from her face and off her head. “It is good to finally see you again, Kerani. I’ve missed you.”

  The demigod was surprised at the use of her name. For three hundred years no one had used it, and she thought it long forgotten. An image floated up out of Kerani’s misty memory, that of a young girl releasing Kerani’s hand as the freshly anointed demigod stepped for the first time through a smoky gate that lead to the realm of Shiva and Kali.

  Kerani stared into eyes that were nearly her own had they been allowed to age. An ocean of memories crashed upon her like waves in a storm-tossed sea. “Aseema? Is it possible?” She was stunned. She never thought to stare into her sister’s eyes again, thinking the girl long-dead and returned to Shiva’s bounty.

  “You have been away for a long time, Kerani. You squandered the gift Kali placed in your keeping and you’ve forgotten us… forgotten your people. And though it breaks my heart, it is time for the gift to change hands. Such is the will of Kali.”

  Kerani felt a gentle tug at her hip and slid her hand down to where the Scroll of Kali had been tied a moment before. Kerani’s eyes grew wide the instant the scroll c
ase pierced her back just between her shoulder-blades. There wasn’t pain, only a dimming of the world around her and the warmth of Kali receding into the distance. Kerani reached out her hand, grasping towards her sister, and a tear traced its way down a cheek already reshaping itself into that of an ancient woman. She tumbled forward slowly, dropping first to her knees and then falling face-down into Aseema’s lap. Tears, one by one, dropped from Aseema’s cheeks and soaked into her sister’s now-silver hair.

  “I’m sorry, mistress,” Eka said humbly. “I wish it hadn’t come to this.” Eka was holding the Scroll of Kali, half-covered in Kerani’s divine blood. The young girl’s form was changing. Her skin had grown deep blue and she’d grown in height. The simple turban had disappeared and her hair, now down to her waist, was an ebony flow pouring out in a long curtain of midnight. Her rough white salwar had been replaced with a sleeveless, filigreed, blue halter, and the baggie kameeze was now a red loincloth. An assortment of jeweled gold necklaces draped evenly across her chest. Four taloned hands ran themselves over a demigod’s skin as she inspected her new form and stepped up before Aseema.

  “Do not be sorry, child,” Aseema said gently. “This is as Kali willed it.” Eka didn’t share her mistress’ faith, but she held the deepest respect for the ancient woman who had taken her in and taught her. Eka would literally do anything for Aseema, mostly because the old woman had never asked… she only gave. Aseema took Eka’s dark blue hand in her wrinkled brown one. “Your plans are coming together just as you said they would. I believe it will be you who unites India.”

  “I’ll start with the British, mistress. That victory will be enough to unite many.”

  “Go. Now. They will all know you as Rameswaram Maun Eka, and you will one day lead this country.”

  “You’re not coming with me?” Eka was suddenly fearful. For five years Aseema had been the only thing she’d ever even remotely considered a mother. “I can take care of you now.”

  Aseema sighed, a raspy, ancient sound full of fatigue and sadness. “I’m tired, Eka. Now that my sister has been returned to me, I can finally sleep. I’ve welcomed it for a very long time.”

  “I won’t forget you, mistress. Not ever.” A tear traced itself over the shining pattern of pearls along Eka’s cheek.

  “Just don’t forget Kali,” Aseema smiled at the last. She knew the girl had no faith, but she was certain it would come with time. Eka was destined to protect her people. That is why Kali had chosen Eka, and why Kali had set Aseema in the girl’s path.

  “The men of India will have no choice but to listen, for you alone will be able to lead them against the British and send the invaders back into the sea that brought them to our shores.”

  Eka stared at the ancient sisters before her and briefly wondered when her time would come… when Kali would deem her unfit to carry the gift. But it was only a fleeting thought, for she had much to do. The first phase of Eka’s great plan was complete. She’d traveled to each of the Rajas, requesting audiences, gaining their confidence and planting seeds. One by one she’d told them of the Scroll and explained how it would give them exactly what they needed to solidify their power. She’d convinced them to send large forces, thus weakening their countries when the armies were decimated by the demigod. Each of the three Rajas would have no choice but to join forces in order to defeat the British. And with the Scroll of Kali now resting with Eka, she could unite the country and change it into a place without slavery, without misogyny, without the British, and without a common disregard for those who did not travel in the circles of India’s elite.

  She bowed and turned her back on Aseema, beginning the opening-song of Ganesha. It rolled off her black forked tongue like water cascading over moss-covered stone. A dark, cloud-swirl gate appeared before her, filling the entryway of Aseema’s quarters and shrouding the curtain of Kali. Eka stepped through and stood a short distance outside the city gates of Aurangabad, the capital of Mahratta lying hundreds of miles north of Rameswaram.

  She saw the glow of fires lighting up the city, and she could hear the sound of giant, metal footsteps beyond the forest behind her, punctuated by the rhythmic hissing of steam escaping giant vents. The drone of machines in the sky filled her ears, and the darkness was broken by a flash-bark of rapid, mechanical gunfire. Eka turned, drew forth the Four Teeth of Murugan and began running through the dark forest with justice glowing forth from her fiery red eyes.

  ***

  THE ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS – June 18th, 1870

  Wellesley II Returns to Britain Defeated

  Great Britain’s infamous Governor-General Richard Wellesley II, who had inherited the seat of Bombay and the eastern township of New Bembridge in India from his outcast father Wellesley I, was defeated by the combined forces of Mahratta, Mysore, and Nizam’s Dominion. His allies in Mysore apparently had turned upon his troops during the final battle. Wellesley’s surrender was personally accepted by the new female leader of India known as Rameswaram Maun Eka.

  This new stateswoman is believed to have once been a commoner from the south of India, and little is known of her past. Mahratta, Nizam’s Dominion and Mysore have all pledged their allegiance to this young leader, and treaty discussions are on-going with Sindh Multan Lahore and The United Provinces of Agra. It is also believed that there is on-going fighting under Maun Eka’s banner against the state of Bengal, a north-eastern country opposed to the young leader primarily as a result of her gender and their desire to maintain slavery in that country. Such are the times of the Indian sub-continent.

  Merlin

  by Lorraine Schein

  Every day I eat a clock,

  excrete a clock.

  Time jewels around me.

  Blue diode digits flash in my eyes.

  In my cave, I liquefy the crystals --

  make them seethe and blaze.

  I text spells that writhe on the pulsing quartz walls,

  answer invisible psi phones from the future.

  Piles of hoarded sundials, solar cells,

  pendulums, balance wheels, church bells,

  wristwatch gears, faces and hands,

  broken hourglasses and their sands,

  from too many distant lands,

  surround me.

  Sapphire chips, alarm chimers,

  and yellowed daytimers.

  Paper calendars,

  atomic oscillators, and

  marine chronometers.

  Mainsprings, bezels, windup keys,

  as far as the eye can see.

  Chronographs, escapements, and star charts,

  rock, water, electric, and cuckoo parts --

  everything with a tick or tock

  heaped around me.

  I am a time bomb, set to detonate

  into an unknown future.

  A Druid terrorist,

  waiting for his moment.

  She planted me ticking here —

  my co-conspirator, mad lady bomber.

  Snared with my own spells, beguiled and caught by her

  like photons, we are quantum-entangled forever.

  [Note: Previously published in Strange Horizons (January 2011). Reprinted here with permission of the author.]

  Select Timeline

  [Editor's Note: a complete list of every scientific, mathematical, botanical, geological, medical and so forth discovery in the history of human civilization is beyond the scope of this work. Instead, we will highlight those discoveries made by polytheist societies, ancient and medieval and modern, which lay the groundwork for scientific knowledge and research as we know it today.]

  The peoples of the Indus Valley Civilization (c4th-c3rd millennium BCE) design a ruler divided into ten parts. Not sound like a big deal? Try to build any urban civilization without an accurate unit of measurement.

  Circa 2000 to 1800 BCE, the Rhind Papyrus and the Moscow Papyrus are the earliest examples of rudimentary geometry.

  Dating to 1900 BCE, the cuneiform tablet known as Plimpto
n 322 records several Pythagorean triplets (3, 4, 5) (5, 12, 13), but no evidence has been discovered to date that ancient Mesopotamians formulated the Pythagorean theorem itself.

  The Edwin Smith Papyrus, dating to roughly 1500 BCE, marks the earliest beginnings of neuroscience. Ending abruptly in the middle of a line, it is believed to be a copy of a much older text, possibly dating back to Old Kingdom Egypt (c3000-2500 BCE).

  Around 1200 BCE, the Babylonian star catalogs are developed. Many of their star names are still in use today. Ancient astronomers -- such as the Chaldean Kidinnu -- calculated the changing length of the day over the course of the year, and accurately predicted planetary, solar, and lunar eclipses.

  Greek philosopher Thales of Miletus (640-546 BCE), known today as the father of science, postulates non-supernatural origins for natural phenomena, such as earthquakes. Oh, and don't forget his geometric Theorem and his study of electricity.

  After examining fossils, Xenophanes of Colophon (c570-c475 BCE), theologian, poet and skeptic, posits that the Earth's surface was once covered by water. He suggests that the world fluctuates between wet and dry, with life flourishing, then becoming extinct, then regenerating again.

  Pythagoras of Samos (c. 570-495 BCE) -- philosopher, mathematician, musician, mystic and religious founder -- is best known for his Theorem regarding right triangles. He was also the first person known to suggest that the Earth is a sphere.

  Leucippus (first half of the 5th century BCE) and Democritus (c 460-370 BCE) formulate the earliest atomic theory (ie, matter is built of atoms).