6

Meeting on the Ramparts

From the ramparts of Noyo’s great walls, Kunza watched the construction of Kutali’s tomb. Far past the hovels that clung to the outside of Noyo’s walls, the sprawling work site was a hive of bustling activity. The foundation of the godling’s mausoleum was laid, massive slabs of limestone sunk into hard clay, and huge blocks of sandstone were dragged up earthen ramps by teams of humans and lesser giants and cyclopean slaves to build the tiers upon which the tomb would tower over. Kunza had seen the tomb's plans. A huge complex of fluted columns and statues to sit atop a tiered pyramid with magnificent staircases rising along each side. It would take a decade to build. Huge, intricate statues of Kutali, his siblings, and their Chosen were to surround the tomb and line the staircases. A mosaic was to span the entire floor, elaborate reliefs were to grace the outer walls of the tomb, and an ossuary of gold and bronze and marble would be built within it all. An ossuary fit for Kutali, son of Azka. The amount of artistry Azka had requested made for an incomparable undertaking.

The sound of chisel against stone was clear on the ramparts. The collective groan as teams hauled the blocks up the ramps, one after the other. All of it marked by the occasional crack of a whip. Each team was led by a supervisor brandishing a whip and club. These supervisors were all lesser giants, but of a different clan than the rest so they had no reservations about meting out punishment to their own kind.

Kunza had seen, when he had first taken a tour of the worksite, the aftermath of one such punishment. A lash from a giant’s whip would cut deep into the meat of a man and even break bone.

“Astonishing, is it not?” a low, guttural voice said from behind him. “There are more than five thousand in the quarries alone.”

The giant came to stand beside Kunza and looked out over the northern plains. An expanse of yellow and brown stretched out to the horizon beneath a smoky gray sky. “A monumental undertaking, to be sure.”

The giant’s accent was thick and gruff, each syllable like stones grinding against one another. The giant’s hands on the crenulated wall were massive, the color of slate. His thick fingers, each nearly the width of Kunza’s wrist, were adorned with bands of gold, silver, and jade. The giant leaned forward, looking out over the construction. The wall’s embrasures came up to Kunza’s chest but to the giant, the even rounded merlons came up to only his navel.

“What can I do for you, Grand Mason Ur-Mak?” Kunza asked. Behind them, two of the Grand Mason’s personal guard stood glittering in bronze scale mail. They were always behind Ur-Mak, watching from behind the spectacled visor of their helmet, brutally spiked maces in hand.

“Nothing,” Ur-Mak said. “I just wanted to admire my work. Much the same as you, I see. You come here often.” The giant’s head turned toward Kunza, appraising him with small, dark eyes. The giant’s face was a slab of rough skin and sharp angles. He looked into Kunza’s smoldering eyes steadily, not shying away from them.

“It is quite the undertaking,” Kunza said. “You are doing the memory of our lost Kutali a great honor.”

“I only wish to pay homage to our Sovereign and his line.” Ur-Mak smiled, flashing his sharp, almost canine, teeth. A few of his lower teeth had been replaced with gold replicas. “I heard you gave Sovereign Azka quite the gift the other day.”

Yes.” Kunza shifted, searching in the giant’s face for the reason for this conversation. “As proof of my devotion to our High Goddess, I gave to our Sovereign a few of Talara’s soldiers.”

“You are truly Talara’s Chosen then?”

“I am her emissary, yes.”

“For a High God to bless a human. It is remarkable,” Ur-Mak said. “And these soldiers, they were human as well?”

“Yes,” Kunza said, reluctantly. “For the most part.”

“Were they truly inside the hall with Azka and his Chosen without being detected?”

Kunza frowned. “That’s quite the rumor.”

A toothy smirk split Ur-Mak’s face. “Rumors abound around Talara’s Chosen human.”

“I don’t care for gossip.”

“But that’s the thing about rumors. Whether you care for them or not, they remain. And rumors can kill as well as a blade can.”

Kunza glanced along the parapet. Far down the wall, a few of Azka’s free men stood guard. “I suppose that is true,” she said, flatly. “But to the might of a god, both of those are as deadly as a wet fart.”

The giant grinned wider. “Very true. But as a fellow upstart in Noyo, I give you this advice.” Ur-Mak leaned down, his smile fading fast, and whispered in a tone as hushed as massive lungs could provide. “Tread carefully. You are stepping beyond your stead and it does not go unnoticed.”

Surprise momentarily softened the tense wariness in Kunza’s body. “Thank you for the advice, Grand Mason,” he said, unsure. “I have not made many friends in Noyo, that is for sure.”

“This city is no place for friendship, I’ve learned.” Ur-Mak straightened, his smile returned with a wistful quality about it as his eyes fell on the construction below. “When the Stone Queen sent me here, there was little love for me and my kin. But we have risen high in Noyo. And in a short time, you have risen to a very precarious height. I only wish to spare you that fall.”

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“I appreciate your concern,” Kunza said, polite but with a slight edge of wariness.

Ur-Mak’s attention was wholly fixed on the construction below. “It will be a work of art like no other,” he said quietly, the words a low rumbling. “Peerless in the entire world.”

Another whip cracked in the distance.

“You will be leaving for Kalaro again soon, yes?” Ur-Mak asked.

Kunza nodded. “Tomorrow. At dawn.” He wished the giant would leave. He could not himself leave first, it would be improper. Kunza was afforded certain allowances due to his station in the eyes of Talara but he was still human.

“Whenever I can step away from the work here I would like to see the Stairs of Ascension for myself. Hewn by the High Gods’ corporeal hand. It must be quite the sight.``

Kunza thought of the climb when he was still a weathered ka-man. How blind he had been, too blind to see the wonders the High Gods had left in their wake. “It truly is a sight to behold.”

“And you yourself have been busy building, haven’t you?”

Kunza was thankful he did not have his old eyes. They would have surely betrayed his placid composure. “The Goddess has been kind to Kalaro. I would not compare our work to that of the High Gods but we do our best to accommodate our expansion.”

“Talara must truly love your people. Everywhere you look, cities and towns, they grow hollow and wither away.” The giant’s smile widened again. “If your works ever require assistance, I am sure I can spare a mason or two. My masons can work magic with stone, I promise. You will not be disappointed.”

“Thank you, Grand Mason,” Kunza said blandly. “You are too kind.”

“Kindness has never been a virtue my kin have in excess. But I feel you and I share a common goal.”

Kunza’s scarred brow furrowed as much as the tight, gnarled skin would allow. “And what would that goal be?”

The free men in their quilted armor were walking toward them now but Ur-Mak paid them no mind. “We both serve our gods wholeheartedly.”

And what gods would that be exactly? Kunza’s unblinking eyes gave little indication of his suspicion. The free men passed, hurrying past Ur-Mak’s guards. “I suppose you are right.” Kunza turned to face the giant. “Incidentally, let me offer my condolences for the loss of Toth and Stone Queen Togatha. What an unforeseen tragedy, I can’t imagine what that must feel like.” He kept his voice flat, dripping with false sympathy.

Ur-Mak’s smile faltered and, for the first time Kunza had ever seen, the giant’s composure crumbled enough for Kunza to see through the courtesy and falsity. Ur-Mak’s eyes darkened beneath his knitted brow. It took only a moment for Ur-Mak to regain his composure but in that moment Kunza had seen to the heart of the giant. No obfuscation, no subtleties. It was hard for Kunza to not smile.

“Thank you,” Ur-Mak said, his voice still and rough like a bed of volcanic rock. “I still struggle to believe my Stone Queen is gone.” He stepped away from the low wall. “I cannot believe something such as that could happen so suddenly.” He said the last sentence pointedly, a statement of fact.

Kunza relaxed a bit at the giant’s barely concealed candor. “It is unbelievable,” he said, plainly. “If you or your people require anything from a lowly man such as me, please do not hesitate to ask.” He reached his hand out.

Ur-Mak’s guards drew the heads of the maces from the stone and began toward Kunza but Ur-Mak waved them off. Kunza held his out hand, unfazed, and Ur-Mak smiled. “Thank you,” he said. The giant’s hand swallowed Kunza’s in a loose but firm grip. “Perhaps I will have to take you up on that offer.” He smiled again. “If you would like, I can send an apprentice of mine with you back to Kalaro. I believe he would prove to be quite helpful.”

Kunza smiled as they shook hands. He knows much, Kunza thought as Ur-Mak and his guards departed. Perhaps our goals are aligned after all. He did not trust the Grand Mason but he was intrigued. The giant’s anger had been genuine and that could prove useful.

Despite his aversion to rumors, Kunza heard things as well. A messenger from Toth had come to Noyo weeks before Toth was lost with word of fog and sickness. Azka could have aided his ally but he hadn’t.

When the roots of dusk began spreading along the western horizon and fires were being lit in the tent city outside the worksite, Kunza left his vigil over the construction. Walking along the parapet to the stairs cut into the wall’s interior, his thoughts had drifted from Ur-Mak back to the suffering happening just outside the walls. How many people had died already in the construction of a tomb for a godling already rotting in a chamber beneath the palace? How many would have to die before the construction was finished? How many mortal lives were equal to that of a single godling?

One of Azka’s free men standing guard at the head of the stairway glared at Kunza as he passed. Kunza could feel the man’s eyes on his back as he descended the wide stairs. They resented him and his faith. They resented his station and the blessing Talara had bestowed upon him. They would stare and snicker but none of them could look him in the eye. The unworthy averted their gaze.

At the bottom of the stairs, he turned and crossed the limestone road running along the wall. A narrow road ran between two dome-roofed buildings. Kunza entered the dimly-lit alley and his Shadow soon fell in behind him.

“Where did the giant go after he spoke to me?” Kunza whispered, still walking with his back to the Shadow.

“To construction,” the Shadow rasped. Kunza’s personal Shadow was the only one he had made that was capable of speech after the myriad procedures. “Followed as far as open plain. Watched from tall grass.” The Shadow’s speech was littered with small pauses. Each word was painful but it spoke nonetheless.

“When I leave tomorrow, you’re to stay here. Follow the giant. Listen to every word he says.”

The Shadow assented without a sound. Its obedience was absolute.

Kunza crossed a wider avenue, passing tightly packed storefronts with tall doorways. Many giants lived in the northern quarter, a small, densely packed area only marginally more affluent than the slums where freed men and women lived. He walked unfazed by the glances and hushed snarls as he passed into another alleyway. His Shadow followed close at his heels, hooded robe barely tousled by the wind blowing down the avenue and into the mouth of the alley.

Halfway down the alleyway, Kunza spoke again. “I will return in one week. Meet me outside the city. I will stay the night in the house of the farmer, Azedola, again. The night before I enter the city, find me. Report to me what you have gleaned.” Kunza stopped abruptly and turned to face his Shadow. “Do you understand?”

Beneath the hood, the Shadow nodded. From the slit of its face wrap, its clouded gray eyes were averted. It stood more than a head taller than him even slouching as it was wont to do. The sickly sweet scent of rot and incense wafted faintly from its body. The scent of Talara.

“Good,” Kunza said. “Very good.”

Kunza continued down the alley and his Shadow followed, footfalls silent on the cobblestone.