by Robert Reed
“Can you read this?” Nissim asked.
“No.”
Seldom laughed, saying, “Of course not. People don’t read papio.”
Diamond set the book down.
“Except you, Master,” Seldom added, deeply impressed.
“The papio are people too,” Nissim warned.
“I know that. They’re our cousins, I know.” But Seldom smiled in a stubbornly doubtful way.
“Why did you select this book?” Nissim asked.
“I have some of these in my room,” Diamond said.
“Really?” asked Nissim.
Diamond nodded.
The butcher’s hands were rough and steady. He tilted the boy’s face to let giant eyes hunt for wounds still healing. There was nothing to see. “Such a peculiar architecture,” he began. “Merit the Slayer is your father. Yes?”
“Do you know him?” Elata asked.
“Not well. But we’ve spoken.” Nissim paused. “Never for long, I’m afraid, and so I can’t claim to know him. But I think I would recognize the fellow, given the chance.”
Seldom cleared his throat. “Why would his father have papio books?”
“Well, I know his work takes him to the world’s edges,” Master Nissim pointed out. “But of course a lot of tree-walkers wander the reef country, and how many of those bring home these?” He set the book back where it belonged. “Merit had a child, I heard. But someone told me . . . I don’t remember who . . . long ago told me the boy was weak and soon to die.”
“That’s me,” Diamond allowed.
“Well, I was misinformed.” Nissim pulled his lower lip into his mouth, sucking hard while he thought.
“We need to find his parents,” Elata said.
“From what you’ve told me, Merit’s hunting in the wilderness . . . ”
His voice trailed away.
Diamond fidgeted.
Returning to the table, the butcher began to wipe clean his knives and cleavers. Smiling, a little embarrassed, he allowed, “I’ve got this awful urge, my boy. All these fine sharp implements, and I’m thinking about a little poke, a short slice. Something to test these rumors of healing.”
Diamond held out his hand, waiting.
“No,” the Master told him, folding his little fingers and pushed his hand back. “I am sure you’ve been cut enough for one day.”
The three of them went into the kitchen to wait while Master Nissim cleaned and changed clothes. He had told them to keep out of the way, which meant standing together between a pair of enormous grills. Diamond watched the fierce blue flames and the frying meat resting in the bubbling oils.
“Have you ever seen fire?” Seldom asked.
“On candles.”
Elata touched an arm. “Are you still hungry?”
He nodded.
She went to the woman who met them when they arrived. Three greasy cakes were found and wrapped in waxed paper and handed to them with little winks and warnings not to tell the other children. “Teacher cake,” Elata explained. “Extra good.”
She and Seldom ate half of theirs, giving the remnants to Diamond.
People stopped working, watching the sudden feast. By the time Diamond licked up every crumb, Nissim was emerging from the cold room. He wasn’t wearing any uniform. Somebody made noise about tutoring, and he nodded and smiled, remarking, “These kids are going tutor me today. The meat’s all cut. I’m sure you can survive without me.” Then noticing the stares, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“That poor starving boy,” said the woman, describing what she just witnessed.
Nissim put a hand on Diamond’s forehead. “Are you always the big eater?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I usually eat alone.”
Nissim kneeled, placing his eyes directly before the boy’s eyes. “Do your parents ever talk about the world outside?”
He shook his head.
“Did they tell you about the trees and canopy and the sun?”
“Sometimes we talk about Marduk.”
“Have they shown you paintings of the world?”
“No. Just of the Creators.”
“Who nobody has ever seen.” Nissim smiled. “Do you know the world’s shape?”
“I . . . I don’t know . . . ”
The Master nodded, ready to say something else. Important words waited in his mouth, and he did everything but say them. But in the end he stood and shook his head, leading them out of the kitchen. Then with a stern, irresistible voice, he told the other two children, “I want you to be quiet. I want to talk Diamond, and you can’t make a sound. Please.
“And I mean you, Seldom.”
The boy rolled his eyes, trying to laugh.
They walked through the same doorway leading to the outdoors, back into the bright open air. Several little blimps were wandering past, and birds sang, and a pair of leatherwings fought in the air, snarling and spitting as they decided who was biggest and strongest.
Nissim said, “Stop.”
The school was below them. Teachers were talking with loud voices and students were making lots of little noises, competing to be noticed.
“We’re going to visit our District headquarters,” Nissim explained. “They’ll know your father’s whereabouts, and we’ll find him before long. Does that seem reasonable to you?”
Diamond nodded hopefully.
“But first,” said the Master, kneeling again. “I want you to tell me something. If you don’t know the answer, guess. Whatever idea pops into your head, I want to hear it.”
Diamond nodded.
Seldom and Elata stood back, watching.
Nissim put up the hand with the short finger, reminding the others to be silent. “Where is the sun?” he asked.
“Pardon me?”
“The sun,” he repeated. Then with a patient wide smile, he said, “Point to the sun, my boy. Right now.”
Diamond straightened his index finger and pointed up.
Seldom laughed, and Elata struck his bony shoulder, saying, “Stop that, stop.”
The Master was nodding. Emotions played across his plain face while both hands started to shake, and he took one deep breath that wasn’t enough. So he took several more breaths and then stood again. One trembling hand wiped one eye and then the other. Then speaking to nobody but himself, he said, “I have read about this.”
“What do you mean?” Elata asked.
“About people like Diamond?” asked Seldom.
But the man wouldn’t answer. He took another long breath, and then with a serious sorry voice, he told the lost boy, “No, Diamond. No. The sun is and has always been beneath our feet.”
SEVEN
The sun was beneath them, and why would it be anywhere else? Nobody had come to his room and pointed at the ceiling, telling him, “The day comes from above, my boy. The sun sits over our heads.” And he had no reason to doubt what he was told just now. Yet Diamond shook his head skeptically, making Seldom laugh again. Squinting, he gave his toes a long skeptical stare, and Elata took hold of his elbow, saying, “You had no way to know. But now you do.”
Except what did he know?
Very, very little, it seemed.
Without sharing his thoughts, Nissim walked on.
Still fighting, the leatherwings screeched and flapped hard and then pulled apart for a moment, gathering violence for the next collision. Teeth cut, insults battered. Then one animal shrieked and turned and flew away, fur and bright blood following it as the winner triumphantly took claim over the bright air beside the school.
Students, mostly boys, cheered from their classrooms.
The Master was climbing a long set of stairs, and the three of them hurried to catch up.
“Where are we going?” Seldom asked.
“Special occasions demand luxury,” Nissim explained.
“We’re riding,” said Elata with a grin.
No, they were walking. The stairs were wide, room enough for three students to
walk together without brushing elbows.
Seldom poked his new friend. “What about the rain?” he asked.
Diamond pretended not to hear him.
But the boy persisted. “Where do you think rain comes from? Above or below?”
Nissim looked back as he climbed, interested in the answer.
“I don’t know,” Diamond said. But one finger insisted on pointing up.
Seldom giggled.
Elata punched his shoulder again.
“It’s a fair question,” Seldom moaned.
Then with two fingers, Elata jabbed him in the ribs.
Nissim had stopped climbing. He looked at the mysterious boy, and then his eyes were pulled away. Quietly, with a curious tone, he said, “I wonder what the police are doing here.”
A large black blimp had risen into view, maneuvering to dock with the school.
“They’re chasing my brother,” Seldom guessed.
Nissim opened his mouth and breathed deeply. “That seems like an extraordinary number of officers to chase one boy.”
Then he turned and started climbing again.
“Let’s hurry,” said the man’s big voice, on arm pulling at the railing. “We don’t want to miss the next part of our day.”
A narrow landing reached far out into the air. Several adults were standing at the end, waiting beside a tall pole. Flags wearing assorted emblems were flapping on the pole. A white sock stuck out sideways, and as the winds shifted, it collapsed and then pointed in a fresh direction.
The four of them walked out on the landing, out where it began to wobble under Diamond’s feet, and he stopped and grabbed the railing, waiting for the pitching to stop.
The motions only grew worse.
Reaching deep into a pocket, Nissim retrieved square coins of glass and polished coral. A stubby silver blimp was falling towards them, one flag dangling from the mooring post jutting out from its bow. “There’s some luck,” the Master said. “Our ride arrives.”
The other people stared at the odd boy until he looked at them, and then everyone watched the blimp. The machine seemed small until it was close, and then Diamond felt tiny. The cockpit was just below the long mooring post. A long window was propped open, the wild-haired pilot watching everything. Big propellers roared and slowed and then roared again, pushing the blimp close. The blimp’s mooring post ended with mechanical fingers, and there was a stout iron ring clamped to the end of the landing, waiting to be grabbed. The fingers reached the ring, but the wind gusted unexpectedly, and with a bright useless clank they closed on empty air. The gigantic machine had to back away slowly before trying again, helped along by the pilot’s fierce cursing. This time the fingers grabbed the loop and the blimp rose over them. Its mooring post was like an arm bending like an elbow, and once the post was vertical, its base locked in place, allowing the blimp to turn in the wind without endangering itself or the people on the landing.
A flexible gangway was released from the belly, and out ran a pair of red monkeys. Big and powerful, the beasts jumped into the air with ropes fixed in their mouths, long falls ending when the hand-like feet grabbed hold of iron grommets. Then they dragged the gangway into position and started to tie it down, still making knots as the travelers put themselves in a line.
A second crewman appeared. His gray uniform was tight and too long in the arms, and he had a happy face that was just as put-on as his shirt. “Bound for the canopy,” he shouted, throwing biscuits at the monkeys. “Marduk’s final station, and then Rail and Hanner and Bliss. Welcome to all.”
A well-to-do couple went first, displaying important pieces of paper.
Nissim offered coins.
The attendant counted them quickly and accurately. “Your family?” he asked.
“They are,” Nissim said.
“Fine looking bunch,” the attendant said, paying no attention to the dissimilar threesome.
Nissim led them up the gangway and then paused, looking back at the school.
Nobody was following.
“That’s a different kind of monkey,” Diamond guessed.
“Capables, they’re called,” Seldom said. “Although they have to be well-trained to be that way.”
“Who doesn’t?” Nissim joked.
A big horn sounded, and one capable untied the gangway while the other kicked the post’s fingers, triggering them to release.
Diamond found himself in the back of a long narrow cabin. Tall-backed benches were set in rows, and Elata claimed an empty bench. She sat and patted the bare space beside her, and Diamond sat and then lifted up again, peering out the window.
“No, let’s trade,” she said. “I’ll let you watch.”
Nobody else looked outside. Every other person saw nothing remarkable or beautiful. This was just the world and not even an important portion of the world, and what mattered most to travelers were their private, often secret thoughts.
Whispering, Diamond asked, “Where does rain come from?”
“Below,” Seldom said, waiting all this time to explain. “It flies upwards when the night ends. That’s how every morning begins.”
Nissim was sitting on the bench in front of them. He turned and smiled, one elbow perched on the wooden back, two fingers thoughtfully tapping his curled mouth.
“Rain doesn’t fly,” said Elata.
“Sprays,” Seldom said. “That’s what I meant.”
Nissim said nothing, studying the boy that had unexpectedly wandered into his life.
Questions begged to be asked. Diamond wanted to know everything about rain, but he was also thinking about flying, and that brought the blimp to mind. “How do we stay in the air?” he asked Elata.
“Gas holds us up,” she said.
“Hydrogen gas,” Seldom added.
That first word meant nothing.
Sensing confusion, Nissim used a teacher’s voice. “Air is made up of different species of gas. Some are common, others rare. And the lightest gas is hydrogen. Certain plants make quite a bit of hydrogen, and we harvest what we need. Have you ever seen wood float on water?”
Diamond nodded.
“That’s what this aircraft is doing now. Floating.”
“But we’re falling,” he pointed out.
“That’s because the blimp always starts its run heavy. It begins up high and works its way down the tree. The air gets thicker as we drop. Do you feel your ears aching? Well, they might. Or might not, I don’t know about you. But the blimp falls, picking up more passengers and cargo, increasing its weight which helps it fall faster, and then it drops a little ballast, lightening the load just enough, after which it runs above the canopy to the turnaround point.”
“Ballast,” Diamond repeated.
“Sawdust and water,” said Seldom.
“Usually,” said Nissim. Other people were watching the conversation. His face needed to be closer to Diamond, his voice lowered. “At the end of the run, the pilot drops most of the ballast, and our blimp jumps back to the top of the world.”
Diamond stared out the window. The school and black blimp were far above; walkways and homes and elaborate buildings covered Marduk’s endless trunk.
“What’s at the top of the world?” Diamond asked.
“Not the sun,” Seldom said.
Nissim placed one hand on Seldom’s head, shaking him gently. Then in a whisper, he explained, “Not many go there, and nobody would want to live there. It’s always dark, always night. But that’s where Marduk and these other trees put up their roots. Against the world’s ceiling, everything hangs.”
The boy blinked and sighed. Hard thought brought another question, and he asked, “What is the world’s shape?”
Seldom smiled smartly. “Guess.”
Nissim frowned but didn’t reprimand.
“You don’t have to,” Elata said.
But then Diamond put up his hands, fingers and cupped palms drawing a sphere. In his mind, the sphere was smooth and perfectly proportioned. And of
course it was enormous. And when nobody corrected him, he described what was in his mind, stressing the enormity of this realm about which he knew almost nothing.
Then he felt finished, and nobody spoke.
Diamond readied himself for corrections and laughter. But Seldom spoke first, nothing but amazed. “That’s it,” he said. “That’s what it is. The Creation is a perfect, perfect ball, and that’s all there is.”
The blimp and its floating gas kept falling. Diamond watched the world, and Nissim and Seldom and Elata took turns describing the world. It was as if the boy had two sets of eyes, one pair staring out from his skull while an even bigger pair was turned inwards, watching an imaginary ball filling with forest and people and the blazing, still unseen sun. The eternal sun lay at the bottom of the world. Hundreds of species of trees hung from the highest, flattest portions of the ceiling. The District of Districts was fixed to the top of the sphere, while Marduk was far out where the forests thinned and the wilderness began.
“Bloodwoods are much bigger than blackwoods,” Seldom said. “Marduk is a twig next to them.”
Diamond tried to imagine those impossible giants.
“The District of Districts is in charge,” Elata said.
“What does ‘in charge’ mean?” he asked.
“They’re the bosses,” she said.
“Like parents?”
Something was funny. When the laughter stopped, the Master explained, “There are nine districts, but nearly half of the population lives in the District of Districts. In all things human, they have the largest say. They take money from us and steer the laws, and while every District has its own army, they control the biggest army that keeps us safe.”
“My father was a soldier,” he said.
“Many serve,” Nissim said.
“What do they protect us from?”
“The papio,” Seldom said.
Elata shook her head. “We don’t fight the papio anymore.”
“Because we have armies,” the boy said.
She touched Diamond on the knee. “Mostly soldiers fight monsters. And other tree-walking people too.”
“What people?”
“Bandits in the wilderness,” she said.