Chapter 4 – Paradise I
Home is heart and distant shore,
Where life is lived to full reward...
I
Reality was gone, and there was no waking up.
There was a line nearby, a line that marked the nearest points to his world, and Jorden had to follow that and find a way through. There had to be a way... He almost laughed at that. Even if there was some imaginary line nearby that was close to home he certainly had no idea which direction it ran, and he had a feeling the likelihood of finding some portal on the way we unlikely at best. He had enough trouble finding the one he had passed through to get home the last few times. And it was long gone. Gone with it was what he knew as reality.
As Jorden found himself further and further from the house of Tsarin, and apparently no closer to home, there was another reality nagging at him as well. He tried not to think about it, tried to ignore the multitude of somehow very real problems he seemed to suddenly be facing.
He was alone in a very unknown forest, an unknown world it would seem. He was going to need food, rest, a place to stay. There was more as well, like clothing, all dependent on how long he was likely to be stuck. He recalled the village stalls, knew they had a lot of things her could use and eat, but then even here he knew that was going to take money, or whatever the locals used for that. Whatever it was he certainly didn't have any of it.
There was all that he needed back in the house of Tsarin, he knew that. Jorden just wasn't sure he wanted to be anywhere near the place. That was probably a good thing at the moment as he began to realize he wasn't even sure where the house was. The village was a better bet, and maybe he could find some work, enough to at least buy a little food. And they had other things...
Like weapons, Jorden recalled.
Fear is the greatest of motivators, and as the forest slowly came to life within the imagination of Jorden Miles, his sense of direction became extremely acute. Indeed there was very likely much to fear in the lands about the House of the Kaedith, Jorden considered, the weapons a stark reminder of that. This was, after all, a very odd land of dream, and it was a dream that could soon become a nightmare.
He made his way back to the house of the kaedith that afternoon, a house he actually planned to avoid, wishing only to find the path that passed near it and walk on into the village of Tucaar, a village that he hoped would be large enough to lose himself within and even possibly find some work. But there was the question. If it were not for the one nagging question that remained then Jorden would have indeed been well upon his way. Why!
Anger also remained. He planned his attack and marched on to the house . Kaedith Tsarin would not forget this day. The few words of abuse that he had given before would be nothing in comparison to what he now planned. He didn't care she was a woman, or how much older than him she was...
Jorden lost his train of thought as he came upon that young woman who sobbed on the stair of her home. It was not the confident Precinct Kaedith that he saw, not really, it was more the child he had first met in the house. She looked away as he attempted to deliver his planned assault. Jorden found that he couldn't.
He turned his back to her, thinking to leave.
Silence was maintained a moment longer, Tsarin then finding the courage to speak. “I'm sorry, Jorden, I'm truly sorry. It was not my place to trap you here...”
Jorden spun about and glared toward the woman. Trap! “Nice of you to think of that now,” he growled, then paused. He really needed friends more than enemies right now.
The kaedith nodded. “I simply wished to provide a place of peace for you to dwell within until Hura returns, nothing more. I am not sure why I acted so irresponsibly.” She stood from her place of rest upon the stair and wiped her moist cheeks with the cuffs of her robe. “Now I can offer everything except that which you truly desire...”
“How am I ever supposed to get out of here,” Jorden whined, yet was that really the question. If he could really have anything he desired then the question he should have asked himself was why do I want to get out of here. He even felt way better and healthier here than he did in reality.
If it wasn't for the catch...
“Why?” he said in a calm a voice as he could muster. “You've blown any chances of me ever leaving this place, it seems,” although Jorden hoped that was not the absolute truth, “the least you can do is tell me why.”
Tsarin approached the man as he stood upon the path, her breath slow, her thought deep. “How many people do you know who have passed into the Domain?”
Jorden frowned. Typical of the kaedith to answer a question with a question. “I don't know. What has that got to do...”
“How many?” she snapped.
Jorden jumped. The woman had passed again from child to Precinct Kaedith, and though her eyes were still reddened from the tears they now flashed in sudden anger. “I don't even know what this place is,” Jorden said as angrily as he could fake.
“There is a reason for you being here Jorden,” she stated firmly. “It is not an accident or a matter of chance that you walk within these grounds.” Tsarin shook her head. “And there are no mere Precinct Kaedith that can open such a portal, a portal that was likely designed to open to one person alone.” She did not need to tell of who. “And that is you, Jorden Miles, and none other.”
Jorden's anger was cooled by a sudden chill. He fought to maintain his stern façade. “That doesn't really answer why you broke the portal thing and trapped me here.” She had broken a crystal, a crystal that had brought him to another world. It was all a little too crazy.
Tsarin shrugged. “You were brought here for a reason... There is a purpose in you being within the Domain.” Then she shook her head slowly. “I don't know what that purpose is, Jorden, only Hura can tell you of her mind.” That was truth. There was much the kaedith did know that she would not tell, but that much was truth. “But I know that it must be at least of some importance, for such transitions are very difficult. Without the devices of Hura such a transition would leave you as a mere ornament to stand within our garden, unless your will was very strong.
“But you are here and you are well, and I know that things have not been as they should in our land. Perhaps that is the reason you have been brought amongst us.” Tsarin smiled hopefully
Jorden wondered on all she had said. It seemed he was stuck within her care, at least for now, and had little need of enemies. Yet he also wondered what was not as it should be within her dream-world. “As far as I'm concerned there's nothing quite right in this world of yours, so I'm sure there's nothing much that I can do to help. Perhaps one of your chief witches saw me in their crystal ball and decided to cure me or something.” That was more hope than anything else. And he did feel better after all.
Tsarin seemed to consider the possibility seriously. “Perhaps, yes, the great one is known to help those of the Beyond...” And she fell briefly into thought.
Before Jorden could speak again they were both interrupted by a sudden thunder of voice. Jorden jumped, Tsarin simply shrugging her line of thought and looking to the speaker. “Are you well, Kaedith Tsarin?” it boomed. “You do not look well. You have been crying.”
Jorden glanced to the towering figure of the landsdraw, a house guard he had previously only glimpsed from a distance. Now one towered above, his dark red mane splashing upon huge shoulders, hands the size of base-ball gloves ending the thick arms hanging from each. Jorden gazed toward the woody brown nails that the landsdraw used to casually scratch his bare and hideously hairy abdomen. “Has the boy hurt you,” the giant added.
“No, Hartwud, he has been trapped within the Domain by my hand,” Tsarin said softly, her words slow and clear. “He was upset by my actions. I also felt sorrow for my deed.” She smiled peacefully.
The landsdraw nodded and glanced to Jorden Miles. “This is a good place,” he rumbled amiably, “do not be angry. There is light and much water, although the winds of Darkness are st
rong. Our Kaedith is kind and generous.”
“Yeah, okay,” Jorden returned carefully, fearful that the giant might take a dislike to any that spoke against his kaedith. “She has been very kind to me.”
The landsdraw nodded, glanced to Tsarin, and wandered off into the grounds, Jorden surprised by his gentle step. There was a sigh of relief. “Big,” was the only comment Jorden could manage.
Tsarin smiled. “These woods are home for several of the landsdraw, and they offer their protection freely. Unlike men they are free of greed and slow to anger, but they not an order to be taken lightly.”
Unlike men, Jorden thought, if not a race of very large men, then what? “What about the women?” he tried to joke.
Tsarin sighed. “There are many things about this Domain that differ from your own lands, Jorden, and in time you will learn of such things. It would be best if such knowledge was gained slowly.” Jorden frowned in return. “And now you learn that there is no female landsdraw, nor is there a male. There is simply the landsdraw.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but Tsarin walked away.
II
“So where is my house,” Jorden grumbled.
The Kaedith Tsarin frowned. “You are trapped here now, Jorden Miles, so I doubt that I need humour you any longer. Though perhaps one of the girls will take you home when you mature a little.”
She was toying with him, Jorden knew that, and he thought to do the same in return. But if it came to a battle of wits then he was at something of a disadvantage. His wits were elsewhere, as was reality. “Girls, sure. I like girls. Maybe you can arrange one.”
“If you would simply be yourself and accept that you are to live within the Domain, then you will find its population as pleasant as you could hope for.” He caught the raised eyebrow of the kaedith. “There have already been several of the staff who seem to find you attractive, as strange as that seems to me.”
No doubt the oldest and ugliest, Jorden thought, although he hadn't seen many of those. Indeed he had not seen anyone much past their thirties in the house itself and most often they were girls around his own age. Now he was again within that house, the kaedith showing him the room that he could call his own. It seemed that the offer of a house of his own had indeed been retracted.
The room was spacious in itself, and as comfortable as any could wish, and although Jorden remained less than happy with his forced confinement in paradise, he knew the home of the kaedith would offer a good base from which to launch his assault on the barrier.
There was only one thing that mattered now, and that was finding a way out.
III
In a few short days, however, paradise began to look somewhat more promising. By now he knew his mother was in a panic and had really called out every service in the district to look for him. The fact that he had not been found by them just reinforced the fact that this really wasn't the reality he knew, and there wasn't a lot he could do about any of that. Not yet anyway. All he could do was go with the ride for the moment.
Jorden, by then, had engaged in several entertaining chats with the girls about the house of Tsarin. Most were nice and like to talk. Jorden had always got on better with girls than guys anyway. That was great considering he had seen few males at all, and none his age.
Tsarin he remained unsure of. She was always pleasant, and kind of cute for her age, yet he was certain that she knew more than she said. There were times when she all but admitted such. He wondered if she really did not possess the power to return him to his home; wondered if it was not the kaedith herself that brought him there.
And what was the catch? Jorden kept waiting for something to happen, but nothing ever did, not yet anyway. The kaedith seemed to have no use for him, aside from an interest in Jorden's world, so it seemed ridiculous that she would have gone to any trouble to bring him to such a place. He could only bide his time and try to explain television and the DVD player to people that had never seen electric lighting... although it seemed that some form of local telecommunication was available through the use of certain crystalline substances...
Then on the fourth day since the closing of the doorway to his world, Jorden Miles learned about what was not right with the world of dream. It was sudden and very alarming, an event that was felt rather than ever seen.
There was an earthquake.
It was not a severe quake, a tremble that would barely have registered on the scales of home, but for a guy from Tasmania it was bad enough. Earthquakes were not common on the island continent of Australia, indeed they were essentially non-existent, and the island state of Tasmania was no exception.
Jorden was in the garden at the time. He kept calm, surprising himself, and watched above for any limbs that might decide to fall on him. The quake lasted for about half a minute, although it was difficult to estimate and there were no clocks or watches in the Domain whatsoever. Then it stopped. In all it was something of a non-event.
The problem was that the Domain did not have earthquakes – ever. In the more than a thousand cycles of recorded history since the coming of the witch-god Hura Ghiana there had not been a single quake, not since the first had shuddered the homes of the kaedith some twenty cycles before. At first they were very mild and very rare, now they came every few weeks, shook the entire Domain, and they worsened. Some were severe enough to cause widespread damage.
Tsarin's theory of why he had been brought to the Domain seemed to go down the drain as far as Jorden was concerned. He was sure that there was nothing that he could do to prevent an earthquake that could destroy an entire dream. Perhaps it was simply someone waking up...
He told Tsarin as much over lunch, a vast meal of fruits and nuts, and the kaedith simply shrugged. “It is something that is of concern to me, and others of the Domain,” she said quietly. “I simply thought that the coming of an outsider was something of an omen.” And there had been the visit of Hura, Tsarin thought, the visit in which the Great One had spoken little of Jorden Miles or the shaking lands. “As you say, there seems to be little that can be done, especially by a mere common youth of Beyond. Even the Council of Saljid do not have an answer as yet, although they see great destruction clouding our future. Other shard worlds have suffered a similar fate in decades past.”
“I knew this wasn't paradise,” Jorden mumbled. “I better enjoy myself while I can ... Before I get crushed with the rest of you.”
The kaedith shook her head. “Such destruction is many cycles distant, and the kaedith of the Council will learn of the answer, or perhaps Hura herself will need to come to our aid. Her powers are vast, but her mind is often elsewhere, I fear.”
“That's just like God, isn't it,” Jorden thought aloud. “Never there when you need her.”
Tsarin nodded, ignoring, or perhaps entirely missing his sarcasm. “Her eye is too often turned to other worlds and not to her own, yet that is often where the greatest dangers lie. It is believed that the disturbances themselves originate from far outside the domain, perhaps even your own world...”
“So what's going on this afternoon,” Jorden said to change the subject, not having any wish to ponder such death and destruction a moment longer than was absolutely necessary. And he hoped to be well clear of paradise before it collapsed into the pit of eternal oblivion anyway. “We've done the tour of the Chodor piggery and the stables, and we've seen that red and yellow crystals make very bad television sets...”
That had been actually somewhat interesting, It was totally unbelievable, of course, but interesting all the same. She had shown him a red crystal the day before, a simple hexagonal prism that projected an image onto a white wall. It was true that the image was very red and the subject was all but unrecognisable, but it was magic all the same, or an example of the warped science that ran the local dreamworld.
The yellow was better at the job and Jorden could actually see one of the staff as she walked amongst the garden. It was a very pale image, but it was accurate, a
nd Jorden went out of the kaedith's seeing room to look at the girl that the crystal had shown. She was there, all right. Tsarin had later told him that combinations of certain reds and yellows made quite good images, but only the most rich and powerful of the kaedith would be likely to have so many.
Why not, Jorden thought to himself. In such a world of fantasy, who knew what would be possible. Obviously not everything judging by the way they lived. For the moment it seemed that some rules applied. So he knew of red crystals and yellow, and he had seen the green crystal which had hung above the door to Tasmania. “What about...” he tried to think of another colour. “What about blue crystals? I suppose you use them for...”
“Death,” Tsarin said solemnly. “That is all that awaits any that look within the depths of the blue crystal. It is said that they are the source of great power, the place of all knowledge, but I have heard of only the gift of death. Perhaps all knowledge indeed hides beyond the barrier of death.”
Jorden paused at that a moment. “Ah, okay. Might be difficult to appreciate with a rotting brain. All those poor dead nerve cells wouldn't know what they were missing...”
Tsarin stood, she had eaten enough. “I'm going into Tucaar to speak with those of its council,” she said, noticing that Jorden had barely touched his food. He had spent most of his time talking rather than eating. “Perhaps when I leave you will have the time for your lunch.”
Jorden glanced to the plate of cool fruits. He could certainly use another few mouthfuls, but would hardly do so at the expense of missing a trip into Tucaar. He had been dying to get the chance to see the nearest real village for days. “I'm not really that hungry,” he lied, and Tsarin knew he was lying. “And Tucaar is one place I'd love to see.”
The kaedith gazed toward him as he rose and snatched a large blue opalberry. “I fear that you will be disappointed.”
IV
Jorden wasn't.
It was something of a treat to see what he hoped was the real world that lay beyond the House of Tsarin. Of course real was a term that he used rather loosely.
Things made sense in the village of Tucaar, well most of the time. There were horses plodding along its damp roads, the moisture a reminder of the light rain of the past days, and the blacksmiths did good trade, their forges running hot and their hammers ringing throughout the rustic village and its roughly hewn timber walls and roofs.
It had been a long walk, Tucaar further than Jorden had guessed. It had been a good hour on foot at least, and the outsider wondered why the influential, and obviously wealthy kaedith, did not have more elaborate transport. Even her sandals were not in the best of health, and the robe she had chosen for the day was not one of her finest. Jorden could hardly talk. He still wore a faded yellow T-shirt that had not been washed since he went swimming two days before, and it still looked unlikely that he was getting any better clothes any time soon.
Now they were in Tucaar, and Jorden wished he had some money. That was if they used money. He saw a few shards of silver pass from the hand of a horse owner to the hand of a blacksmith. They had money all right, but he didn't. That was unfortunate, he thought, as there were several grimy little stalls in the scattered marketplace that puffed dark black smoke and smelled of the junk food of home. After days of fresh fruit and a few cold meats, Jorden craved some real food that tasted like it had been kept warm for a day or two, and the stall nearby looked like perfect place.
He went nearer to drool.
There was a large bearded man within the ramshackle structure, and Jorden began to wonder if everything in this Domain was on the point of collapse as the man lazily flipped a couple of somethings that sizzled on his filthy black stove. Jorden nodded. Everything looked about right. The stove hadn't been cleaned in days, there was inadequate refrigeration, and the cook had the hygiene habits of a sewer rat. The bearded man spat again.
Then the stall owner noticed Jorden drooling near the stall, rubbed his nose, and seemed to snarl in Jorden's direction. “Something I can get you,” the stall owner said, and his voice was actually quite pleasant, his snarl perhaps a habitual one. “I got rolls and pokers.”
Jorden shook his head. “Sorry, I don't have any money, but the ah... those look great.” He pointed.
“Bullshit.” The cook smiled broadly.
“Looks better than what I've been eating,” Jorden shot back. “I'm sort of staying up at the kaedith's house. She doesn't give me a lot of pocket money.” He glanced around for her, seeing that she now stood in the middle of the street looking for him. Their eyes met and she began to move toward him.
The stall owner saw her too and nodded. “Kaedith tend to be big fruit eaters, old bats they are. You need some real shit in your belly.” And he reached for a bundle of coarse brown paper. “Call it a gift to the needy.” He passed the package.
Jorden was almost at a loss for words. “Thanks,” he said uneasily, not having the slightest thought within of refusing the offer. “If I ever get any money then I'll pay you back.” He took the brown package eagerly. It was warm and smelled delicious.
“It will be dark before we return home at such a rate,” Tsarin said as she approached, Jorden frowning and moving from the stall. “I have much to discuss with the village council, and it is not a brief walk back to the house.” They walked together along the street yet again. “I haven't the time to wait for you to buy food after sitting for a perfectly fine meal.”
“Buy!” Jorden coughed. “Bit hard for me to buy anything. I only have this because the guy at the stall thought I could use some real food.”
Tsarin sniffed. “If you want money, then I will provide it, but please move that smelly thing you are holding a little further away.”
Jorden frowned and ate the smelly thing. It was as delicious as it smelled and he burped with contentment. Then he held out his hand. “Well hand over a few bits of whatever they use for money around here.” There were currently several interesting structures that posed as local shops drifting by: those for clothing and those for wares, some for knives and tools, others for foods and supplies. And there were taverns, broad low buildings with dark smoky openings that had interesting signs above them. They said saloon.
Jorden thought the sign was a little odd, but as long as they served beer it probably didn't matter what they called the place. He wondered what the legal drinking age was here...
“I don't carry money,” Tsarin return. “I haven't the need. Yet I am sure that I can arrange for you to be provided with a little, though as I have said...”
“I'm trapped, so you don't have to humour me any more,” Jorden finished for her. “I know, but since you trapped me then you can make it nicer here, right. This is paradise, after all,” he added with as much sarcasm as he could muster.
The kaedith smiled. “Yes, I told you that it was. I knew that you would find it so after you had settled.”
Jorden frowned in reply.
V
They came to an open square amid the heart of Tucaar. There were no shops or stalls, or indeed much of anything except a large empty paved court.
It was an area the size of four of five tennis courts, Jorden considered; not really that large a space, but large enough for a village the size of Tucaar. In the centre of the square was a large grey... Jorden wondered how he could describe such a thing. It reminded him of the huge prayer wheels that certain cultures used, though he wasn't sure which cultures they actually were.
He started from the paved ground. There was a black pedestal at least five metres in diameter and a half a metre high, and upon that sat a large grey cylinder. It was stone, and it gave the impression of being solid, and its diameter was slightly less than that of the platform. It was also some three or four metres high. Inscribed into its curved face were a multitude of vertical lines, and between those were dozens of odd graphic symbols, Jorden recalling the books that littered the library of Tsarin.
And the grey stone turned.
That was the oddest thing about the massive pillar of rock, Jorden thought, the fact that it slowly rotated. There was no real noise, a low rumble perhaps, and there seemed no visible means of propulsion, undoubtedly a drive system hidden in the paving beneath his feet. He could only ask why, and he did.
Tsarin glanced to the stone. “The inscriptions are the ninety-seven prime laws of Hura Ghiana,” the kaedith said casually, “although there are actually several hundred Council laws and numerous amendments. Those are just the primary motivations, the conventions of social behaviour and trade and such... it is not particularly my field of interest.”
“Ah...” Jorden cocked his head and kept looking at the odd rotating stone. “So why go to all the trouble of building a huge rotating billboard to tell everyone what they probably already know? That seems to be a bit of a waste of time.”
The kaedith snorted. “And the people of your world do not build monuments, I suppose. That is simply a symbol of the creed of the Domain.”
“A monument that goes round and round. Great.” Jorden knew that people of the real world also built such things. He thought they were stupid too.
“It is a grey kjar stone, Jorden,” the kaedith said in her most condescending of tones, “it can hardly do anything but rotate.” Tsarin pointed to a stone building on the far side of the square. “I have a meeting with the village council, perhaps you can stop the stone while I am gone.” And she laughed and walked away.
Jorden frowned. Stop the village billboard, he thought. Why not. He doubted the village council would be pleased with such a thing, but it was worth a try. If he could just find the big key they wound it up with...
He moved toward the stone and knelt, his hand on the pedestal, and he swore. Jorden knew why the kaedith had laughed, but he still didn't believe it. There was a gap between the top of the black pedestal and the bottom of the rotating grey stone, a grey stone that he put a hand on to try and slow it a bit. He didn't have a hope.
And there was nothing but open space in the gap...
Long Days in Paradise - The First Book of the Shards of Heaven Page 5