The Seven Days of Wander

by Broken Walls Publishing

occupation. We are the innocent fingers of a mind, distance from muddied toes.

  So the evil of each occupation is condemned by others as something unique and non universal.

  The evil within each occupation is intimate to that occupation in its stance of obedience and command. A man does not enter an occupation and there breed evil, he enters an occupation already propped in evil. That porters 'lose' parcels, beggars leech, guards kill, captains give evil commands, this becomes the separate diseases of the city. Just as only eyes go blind, ears deaf, lungs cough, skin has boils.

  These crows do not see evil, they see evil guards. And therefore allow evil in the allowing of guards. Were men to command in their tasks and occupations, than all would see the brotherhood of evil.

  In this city's state, evil is marked in the multitude of variations, seemingly flickering independent of each other. But as in an army marching to ravish, to plunder, each rank has its unique order and rank.

  Each a limb, a claw of the lizard, a thing of half wolves, half snake.

  The only difference between a city and a lizard is the city preys upon itself. Go now to the king. I can only hope our next meeting is not again amongst the bondage of evil.”

  So the Beggar journeyed upon the basin, out of the Valley of Dogs.

  This side of the execution pit exactly like the previous side for poverty is not laid out by the tracks of a sun but rather the circulus route of despair.

  At the edge of the Valley, the streets levelled a while, then began again a steep incline. Each footstep brought to view larger and richer dwellings; the people in more telling and boisterous attire.

  Yet their faces declined above this fine and gay. Higher the climb of a street, the more dour and judging a glance; the more disgust and loath rained upon the beggar's frame. Here the mouths did not gawk or gape or even range to their fullness in shout or laughter. These stern lips so pressed to the finer wines barely cracked to the whispers which sang angry at his ears. The buzzing of wasps, not hesitant with barb, yet reluctant nonetheless to jab into indifferent meat.

  'Let it pass, let it pass by this was the placard the little guarded procession did not need wave to the clumps of noble gatherings.

  For here, if it did not stop direct at the carved doors, it was worth ignoring. Even if it knocked or dared slump to the sill, there was regular patrols to sweep any dung away.

  Higher they walked till now the king's palace could be seen. The rounded turrets of its watch rising quickly above the rich habitant; like faceless gatherers above wheat.

  The long white walls curving to the midpoint between each turret. A deliberate thing designed to give a row of worn teeth between fangs. The Hunter and the Fed.

  In the wall, the slits of windows. In the slits, on the walls, in the turrets, men at watch could not at first be seen. Only the flashes of steel were almost constant everywhere, as if this lower jaw had chewed upon a jewelled neck, gave notice of a great stronghold to reinforce fear.

  The little band came to a side door. A great thick iron gate testified to a reluctant harbour within. Passwords of the day were grunted between the sergeant and the palace guards, then the hinges of opening creaked their greeting. As the beggar was about to pass within, he looked up to the wells, An over hang had been added to the brick. It ran as a lip from again turret to turret with the upper edge sloping sharply to the wall, the lower edge abrupt. Jutting, bristling down from the lower edge was hundreds of short iron spikes. All this completed the look of a shaggy lipped lower jaw, the upper ripped away, yet the lower still complete as if a head freshly halved.

  Only above the door was this lip broken in its run. A gap to allow the erect of an insignia. In the centre was an oval art, like an egg on end. On each side separated by a small gap was a crescent moon, the concave side closest to the oval. In these shapes was a jackal, drawn in three parts. The seal gave the look of an eye where a jackal prowled. Cunning with large vision. Vision perhaps more outward than inward since the image was carved to project outward from the wall.

  Into the hall, they stepped. The guard gestured to the Beggar to leave his broken half of the stick he had absentmindly carried all this way. The Beggar left it in the corner and they moved towards the curve of the hall. The iron gate gave a toll to thin step as it was returned to its normal use.

  That was the last noise the Beggar heard till the King's chamber except for the muttered shuffle of feet.All in the palace were required to wear padded slippers or bare feet, no boots or hided sandals were allowed slap their ignorance for long. No one spoke. No one whispered.No one coughed.

  Here amongst the marble columns and long tiled floors of grand scenery and battles waged upon tapestry, hereat the highest place in the city above the burial grounds and execution plots, here silence reined like an undisturbed tomb.

  So much unlike the Valley of Dogs which roared and squawked on the border of death, this noiseless marble would tolerate not even a whisper of existence.

  For would not that whisper of joy or agony gather upon its wings a great following of thoughts unspoken amongst the stone and cloth. Then would not the echos build and build to the cool still air and declare a wind blast of liberation amongst jaded faces and limbs as resilient as the stone itself.

  It is not to be said that the farther a speaker is from death, the less he has to say of life? Would not a word booming thus crack its way outside to proclaim death amongst the most highest living?

  That those burdened with death in their hands can tell large tales of living yet those who clutch the largest portion of living dare not whisper for fear death will scent their scattered trails of

  broken words?

  No boot can be worn here; its scrap to roll ominous like a pebble begging avalanche. Its sound of free descend to gather round and round itself the marble dust of an unused crypt till its burden of weight crashes a wall and noise of the living is allowed inward. Its bristles of melody to sweep all the dead out!

  That all here(and there is only one truly here, for whom this dwelling was carved from its natural ground and dragged to a more mocking height) are begged, nay demanded to have no utterance of life, no sound of vision, no word of any other paradise. That this garden, this pinnacle of flowering, has no other compare.

  For this crest must be sacred, this cup must be holy for if it is less, would not all under it be less? Such is the noble gauntry.

  Thus the dilemma of those of the tomb who cannot speak of anything outside the tomb. Death has its own language. In very quiet syllables. Unlike the boys who play catch at the wall with a noisy, boisterous view of a city's dance.

  The boys are living now, yet soon they will be at an age to be noble and will enter the marble's tomb. Enter with the rest where a word may bring good or evil so is banned with its threat. A guarded existence builds its own needs. Fear welcomes no companion from the living; only the dead in deed have no hunger. Only the blind have no points of faults. Only the deaf have no ear to folly. Only the silent carry no tales or plots.

  Fear thus has its magnificent garden. A single weed barricaded in delicate rubble. At an oaken door, two guards stopped them. A third searches the Beggar thoroughly. The sergeant and Beggar were then allowed to pass

  inward.

  They entered the king's chamber. It was a surprisingly small room. The room draped with tapestries and rugs, though seemly of a less grand style than the previous halls, had still a measure of opulence not seen by the Beggar. All around were padded chairs of embroidered gold silk with legs shaped out turned crescents. At least on one half of the room. For the room was divided by a permanent iron patterned wall, decorative but not allowing even a man's hand to pass through. On the other side of this wall was a single large chair and ornate side table. On the back of the chair was embroidered again the jackal seal of the king.

  Two guards stood on each side of the chair holding long spears chained to their wrists. These spears were obviously designed to kill any aggressor through the
gate and as well were chained to themselves to prevent the attacker from turning them on the king.

  In the Beggar's half stood two guards with short forked spears designed not to be of hazard to the king, only the visitor.

  The door on the king's side of the chamber opened and a very thin, bone featured man stepped in. He wore a robe of a high gloss the Beggar had not seen before. This robe was coloured in brown and yellow diagonal stripes, his head covered with a small black turban. He carried paper and a writing instrument, which he proceeded with to the far right hand corner.

  Next entered a short, fat, balding man in a robe of material woven as flowing purple. The shades and hues rippled and changed with his movement. As he turned his face towards them, the Beggar ....

  At this the sergeant shoved the Beggar to his knees and knelt beside him likewise.They both bowed. The Beggar heard the soft rustle of spreading cloth, then the sharp snap of fingers.

  The sergeant straightened up but remained on his knees. He nudged the Beggar to do likewise. The guards moved to close the doors but first the king made a command in an odd language the Beggar had not heard before. From the king's door entered a small boy slave naked

  but for a velvet red pillow tied on his back. The boy placed himself on all fours before the king's chair, the king stretched out his legs, crossed them and sat them upon