Six

As the copse neared the pair slowed their approach to give Ghed a longer lead-in time to feed visual information to Laughing Boy. The river that had been in the distance had drawn in towards them, and they now stood on its banks, the smell of the water wafting up through the dry grassland breezes.

The birds here sound the same as back there.

True aspirant, but perhaps the Jacobite seeks a variety not common to the tablelands we are on.

They pause beneath a large willow by the river to shelter from the midday warmth.

While we walked I sent a query to the Accord. It seems that the two birds the Jacobite has interest in are usual to the lower climes that begin beyond this approaching copse. I sent another query to the nearby Feeders to determine if they had seen such birds. The feeders indicated that the birds are seen, and also that they do not venture across often for fear of predation.

Laughing Boy sat beneath the Willow, his back to the trunk. Ghed could see the dappled light falling through the branches and glistening on his burns.

None of the information explains to us how and why the Jacobite wishes us to seek the same bird I chose to pict to you at the way-station.

I did wonder why we were chasing the Jacobite's request all this way.

I am curious, aspirant. And besides, there is little work for a Walker in this region. We are journeying in the general direction of the Lesser Centre, while also pleasing your Communicative. A harmonious procession.

Laughing Boy reaches into his red robes and produces two small packages.

Are you fatigued yet aspirant? This will assuage any hunger.

What is it?

Unwrap and eat, take water from the river. There is time for questions later.

Ghed took the parcel and peeled back the layer of waxed paper. Within was a half-hand sized piece of chewy dough. He nibbled at first before noticing Laughing Boy biting down and tearing off pieces. The dough was a little sweet, fairly salty, and smelt similar to the humus on which they sat.

A small bird flew into the overhanging canopy as they ate. It flitted around the pair before settling on a branch above them.

This is a lesson aspirant. Focus your mind on this bird. Can you see it clearly?

Yes.

Now, I want to clearly transmit the words, "Open Atrium"

Open Atrium

Within Ghed's vision a small grey square opened at the top left.

Good aspirant. Now image the bird you have seen within the Atrium, state "Query, name", and "Post Query, Atrium"

Ghed followed, and Laughing Boy commented, Good aspirant. You have made this seem simple. Soon the Atrium will re-open, and your answer will appear.

As if on queue the grey square reappeared, and Ghed intuitively stated, Open Query, Reply.

Good aspirant, very good.

In the square the moving pict of the bird reappeared, along with two spoken words, Fan-Tail. Pleased with himself, Ghed began to stand. He could feel a smile forming, and he glanced at Laughing Boy to see that he was indeed beginning to look pleased, a smile almost breaking.

It was then that the audible began. It pierced the peace of the tree, echoing along the river and rolling from bank to bank. It was an unnatural noise, a guttural, stomach-churning moan rising to a wailing crescendo. A scream of ascending agony.

Five

Laughing Boy sits beneath a tree meditatively. He takes one hand and runs it along the opposite forearm as if to remove dust or dirt, then repeats the action with the other hand.

It is very insistent, this Jacobite.

Yes, replies Ghed, why is it so excited about birds?

Ghed continues to look up into the tree about them, squinting a little while shifting his footing to get a better view of the higher branches. The Jacobite is picting alternating images of two different types of birds, while occasionally flashing the orange Ghed is beginning to associate with frustration.

I do not know, aspirant. Perhaps it is simply a lover of birds.

Laughing Boy stands and takes a small step away from the trunk of the tree. He points.

Is there not a copse in that direction?

Ghed looks in the direction Laughing Boy is pointing, and sees a number of trees mid-way to the horizon. He looks back to Laughing Boy, then to the ground at his companion's feet. He draws his eyes along the ground Laughing Boy will walk, then makes a few short strides out of the shade of the tree. He looks again at the copse, then swings his vision left and right to the horizon either side of them. He returns to the copse, and gradually draws his sight back to where they stand.

Laughing Boy steps out of the shade behind him

Lead on, aspirant. Perhaps the bird life the Jacobite seeks is there.

Ghed sets out, looking at the ground and occasionally looking up and around to take in their surroundings. Laughing Boy falls in behind, walking in Ghed's footsteps.

What is 'the Accord'?

The Accord, aspirant? Did the Mullah not teach you of this?

It was mentioned, but not explained.

The Accord... The Accord is the device that maintains the peace. It is the means by which you and I hear one another, and the means by every individual of all castes may link to the greater whole. It is shared by all to a greater or lesser degree, hence the name of this land, 'the Commons'. In time you will gain a greater ability to use the Accord, but until such time you will remain an aspirant.

Laughing Boy halts and gestures to the horizon the right of where they stand.

Here we are on grassland. But do you see the river there?

Ghed focuses his vision on the river. Yes.

Beyond that river I can make out the colour of a crop. In or near that field will likely be members of a Feeder caste. The Accord allows us to send a wide band request for service to that place, and ask for sustenance. But the Accord also requires the Feeders to accept that request, because that is their station.

They exist to feed others?

They have no other purpose. They are permitted to share in the Accord to prevent boredom, to inform themselves of great events, to provide intelligence to such as the Walkers. But, their interest in the world wider than their crops is often their undoing.

How?

We should resume the journey, aspirant. In good time all will be revealed.

Four

He joined his companion in a drink of water, and returned to rest on his platform. He had grown accustomed to the light from the windows, but chose to look down, lest he betray any horror at the burns. The Jacobite flashed back into view. It pulsed in a dull orange, changed to a green thing moving gently back and forth, and then another, similar but smaller.

That thing is called a 'tree'.

Tree?

Yes, there are many on the Commons. I believe the Jacobite wishes you to venture outside.

You can see the Jacobite?

Yes Walker. I share your vision through my Ports. Touch your temples, you too carry them.

He reaches up to his temples. There, as is on his companion, he finds piece of something grafted to his skull. It is no bigger than the palm of his hand, and extends away to behind his head in tiny, thin trails of metal winding a course over the lumps and bumps.

Is this how I hear you?

Yes Walker. The Mullah teach that before the Beginning came we would speak with our mouths, but that this is now impossible, for fear of offending the One God.

Are there any creatures that make sounds?

Yes Walker. He paused, seemed to consider, and began, May I say I am glad to teach you, as my companion before you taught me. Do you have more questions?

What creatures are these of which you think?

There are many Walker. Birds of the air, an image flicked of a small, round, fluffy, colourful creature popped into his vision, and Cherubim, to name but two.

The Walker stood, turned to the window, and looking through saw trees like those the Jacobite had showed him.

Walker, the images you receive from the Jacobite, or myself, are called 'picts'. In time you will learn to capture images such as those you see now, and transmit them via your Ports to others.

'Picts'? Are there other means to communicate?

Yes Walker, some communicate only through sound. Some only on very narrow bands, such as we now share, and some on very wide bands, which we will encounter in due course.

He returned to his seat, and looked around the room again.

So you can see nothing but what I see?

Yes Walker.

But what if I am asleep, or absent?

Walker, all vision is very narrow. Most of what one sees is filled in by the mind unconsciously. My Ports assist my memory to see our surrounds, and if you are absent I may find another willing to share what they see. There will come a time when you realise the... 'tactical' advantage of my blindness.

The Jacobite had begun to pulse orange a little faster, interspersed with images of the door to the right of the Walker.

Walker?

Yes?

Do you yet have a name?

The Walker looked up at his companion, the great scars across his forehead and face, the vivid red robes.

I do not know.

I believe you might. Did the Mullah not tell you?

No... but...

Yes Walker?

I... I... believe I am named, 'Ghed'.

Yes Walker, this is an appropriate name. It was the name of my previous companion. I feel that many such memories will occur to you in time.

And you? Do you have a name?

Yes Ghed, I do. I am called Laughing Boy, though laughter I have lacked for a many a turning of the World.

Three

The nausea of the initial flash of light had subsided, and he realised he had been lying on a surface of some kind. It was smooth, cold, unwelcoming. The light still stung, so his hands searched blind for the edge of the surface and found it a short way to his right. He gradually swung his legs over the side, searching out the depth with his toes. With his eyes a tiny slit open he could see he was in a large space lit from a short distance to his left. He sat up with his back to the light and held his head with his hands, slowly lowering his feet to rest on what seemed a stone floor.

You should open your eyes Walker, spoke a voice.

Who is here? The Walker asked.

A companion, the voice replied, who knows the pain from the light will soon subside.

Where are you?

Here to the front of you Walker. I sit to your front, and slightly right.

The Walker opened his eyelids slightly, and peered through the glare to see a shape sitting, it's back to a wall. The walls were grey, a red figure contrasting with the background. It looked towards him, and stood.

Good, Walker, your vision is becoming clear, it said before sitting again. When the Mullah left you they activated the lighting, and told me you would awaken.

Where are we?

We are in a waystation on the Commons. These places are made available to our kind.

How long did I sleep?

I do not know Walker.

How long have I been in this station?

This, I also do not know. He paused, Walker?

Yes?

You must open your eyes so that I might see our surrounds.

Without thinking, the Walker gradually opened his eyes. The nausea had passed and he was able to take in the dimensions of a large rectangular room. His companion sat still on a bench of some kind, which extended the length of one wall. He glanced to the right of the red figure and saw a small basin on a far wall, next to a small door. Another wall started to the right of this, along which where small windows into which light streamed. Beneath each is a platform like that on which he sits. Looking to his immediate left, past the end of his platform, a wall with another small door closed the room and ended where the bench began.

Thank you Walker, his companion said, and stood, before walking to the basin, and gathering from it water with a cup chained to the wall, I have been very dry, and the Mullah did not share any vision of the station with me.

Confused, the Walker looked more closely at his room-mate.

Can you not see?

The figure turned, slowly, back towards the Walker.

I had my sight taken Walker. Taken in vengeance for the abandonment of my caste. It was a great price to pay, all told.

Walker stood, hesitantly, and walked towards his companion. He realised the figure was far taller than he, perhaps by two heads. He was burnt terribly. Seared tissue bubbled across his forehead, past the Ports at his temples, and onto his cheeks. His eyelids were welded shut with ribbed scar tissue and whitened skin, ghostly and taunt.

This is the price of the Watchers, my Walker companion. It is a vengeance I will in time return to these Highbirthed filth, tenfold.

Two

A darkness of so much depth. It embraces him in tiny echoes and the nibbling sensation of expectation. He soaks himself in its stillness, a silent bath of comforting isolation, warm and soothing.

Softly, intermittently, a noise begins to pierce the stillness. A voice forms.

Walker, can you hear me? Walker? No, I don't think it can hear. Walker?

Yes. He replies.

Good. You are aware. The voice pauses momentarily. Tell me what you see.

Nothing.

Is that all?

Yes.

Do you know what you are?

No.

Child, you are a walker. You will never be anything else, but you will never be alone.

But I am alone now.

No Walker, you have companions, but you do not yet know the Accord.

The Accord?

Yes child, this darkness is temporary. It will soon be lifted.

He pauses momentarily.

What is a walker?

This is a good question child. Questions are good. All such will have their answers told in their time.

The voice pauses again before returning.

Walker, can you see this light?

A faint light appears before the Walker, a dull blue at first, but gradually becomes crisp and square before moving to sit in the high right of the darkness.

This is 'seeing' Walker. The light you see is a companion to you. Now your eyes are closed, but when they are opened this light will remain.

What is it?

Walker, this light is called the Jacobite. It is intelligent, but does not speak in your language. It will only communicate to you through the square you see.

The square of blue light flickered, and shapes began to appear. A large green object. A mass of something a lighter blue than the first.

Walker, in time you will understand the Jacobite clearly.

A question?

Yes Walker?

What are you?

Walker, we are the Mullah. When you are released into the Commons you will encounter us, you will obey us, and in time you will learn to love us.

One

The Mullah teach that the Commons are the two hands of a god, side by side, cupped so as to hold in place the souls that are the castes. The light of the sky is its eyes watching all from above, enveloping all and each in turn. The hills and plains are the ridges and lines of that god's palms, the waters of the sky the sweat falling from its brow, the wind its breath, the thunder the agony as it strains to hold this world intact, lest the castes slip between its fingers and into the void.

The Mullah say the gods hands were closed in prayer before time came, the souls of the castes trapped like moths, unable to witness the glory of that god's presence. The Beginning came then, and gathered the castes in the darkness. The Beginning created time in that instance, and drove it as a spike into the palm of the god. Curious, the god opened its hands and looked upon them.

It spoke to the Beginning and said, because you have done this thing you shall have an End, eternity in the warmth of my protection too little enough for your kind.

And the Beginning spoke to the god and said, but the people desired the light of your magnificence, and begged me drive this anchor, an idol, for the glorification of you.

The Beginning showed the god then what had been built, stretching from the spike of time, across the sky and to his other palm, an arch of colour reflecting the beauty of the god's visage.

because your people have done this thing the light shall remain, spoke the god, but it will because a great torment, and the day will come when the darkness shall return to you all.

by your leave, spoke the Beginning, the castes shall remain forever silent, else the prayers of a god be broken, and abruptly shall the people fall again into darkness