Chapter 29 The National Observatory of Lourdes

Chapter 29
The National Observatory of Lourdes

The journey across Sasaya to the town of Lourdes was more depressing than Wataru could have imagined.

For one thing, he was still thinking about his discussion with Meena by the pagoda in Sakawa. For another, he couldn’t easily forget the advice he received from the Elder. He needed to put aside all his distractions and find the Goddess. But that was easier said than done…

He also wondered how Mitsuru was faring. He thought about it all the time. Where could he be? Wherever he was, Wataru was sure that he wasn’t wavering from the path. Undoubtedly he was using the powerful sorcery he had acquired in Vision and making a beeline straight toward the Tower of Destiny.

He’s not as weak as I am.

Now that he thought about it, he realized it had always been that way. Mitsuru was totally amazing when he saved Wataru’s life at the Triankha Hospital. The wind storm he conjured destroyed the barrier around the hospital and reduced the sula woods to a barren field of stumps.

Looking back, that was probably the best way to deal with the situation at the time. But what about what Kee Keema said? The cyclone had left many wounded in its wake. Of course. There would have been injuries with that many Old God followers milling about. There were a hundred people or more, all snatched up by the cyclone. The injured were probably the lucky ones. How many people had died that night, Wataru wondered.

Who cares? You reap what you sow, don’t you? They attacked us first, anyway. They caught me, locked me up, were going to execute me.

But would I have been able to do the same thing? Without any hesitation? Would I have used all my strength like he did?

—I’ve no idea where we will be blown to. That’s up to the wind.

Could I have cast that spell, trusting my own life to fate like that?

Speaking of which…

Wataru remembered the incident that started it all—in the Taimatsu building, with Mitsuru surrounded by Kenji and his gang. Mitsuru had summoned a demon, and the situation had flipped dramatically. That thing, Balbylone, had devoured Kenji and his two goons—Kenji head first—and swallowed their souls.

What had Mitsuru intended to do with them, really? Did he know what Balbylone would do when he called her to attack? Did he know and do it all the same?

There hadn’t been a shred of hesitation in his face. They struck him so he struck back, that was all the rationale he required. Mitsuru was always like that—unwavering. No matter what difficulties awaited him on the way to the Tower of Destiny, he wouldn’t blanch or falter.

And then there was Wataru: weak and insecure. And he knew that when it came to competitions, the strong always won. The Elder in Sakawa had told him that it is not always the one who runs fastest who finds the tower first. But Mitsuru wasn’t just fast, he was determined. Wataru hadn’t had a chance from the very beginning.

Just thinking about it made him swoon so much he had to grab on to the side of the cart to keep from falling off. Even faking a smile for the sake of his friends was out of the question.

The scenery on their trip didn’t do much to raise their spirits, either. It was fine when they left Sakawa and camped their first night in a field by the sea. But when they reached the high road, things changed. There were more people traveling on the road now. Some had loaded furniture into crude carts, and others walked with large bundles on their backs. Some were elderly, and others carried children in their arms. Darbaba carts passed by now and again, carrying those too sick or old to walk.

In the beginning, Wataru had no idea what sort of people they might be, nor where they were headed. But on their second night out, when they were nearer to the border between Bog and Sasaya, the number of people on the road had greatly increased. And soon, they all began to trade food and share stories. That was when he found out who they were.

They were refugees—hiding themselves until Halnera had finished.

“I wouldn’t go against the Goddess, not me, but what if she took my husband? It would mean the death of me and our children,” a beastkin mother leading six small children behind her explained. They had brought a tent with them but had no idea how to set it up. Kee Keema and Wataru lent them a hand.

“Where are you headed to, then?”

“I was born in a woodcutters’ village in the mountains on the border. I’ve no home there and my parents are long gone, but we still have the original hut. We’ll live there while the Blood Star hangs red in the sky.”

Her husband, a large beastkin man walking next to her, watched this exchange with a frightful frown. Later Wataru heard him scolding her. “What if they want to come along with us? We’ve a place to hide, but not all are so fortunate. You keep our plans to yourself, woman!”

Indeed, there were many among the refugees that had no particular destination. They merely wanted to go someplace where they could blend in and drop out of sight. Some asked Wataru where he was going, noticing his Highlander armband. When Wataru told them Lourdes, one replied, “Ah, with the observatory. The starseers there might know how to avoid being chosen. You might learn something, eh? Be sure to pass it along now, son.”

In the end, some decided they’d go to Lourdes themselves, and it was the same with others they passed along the way.

At the end of all these conversations, Wataru would force a smile and say, “But only one person is chosen as a sacrifice. And there’s so many people here, it’s not like you, or anyone you know, would be the one chosen. I can’t see why everybody’s so worried.”

People would agree, nodding their heads and muttering about how true it was. Some would even smile back. But then someone would frown, and a cloud would pass over their face, and they would say, “But what if the odds went against us? If I’ve any chance of getting out of it entirely, I’ll take it.”

“The rich, the merchants, and the officials have it easy,” someone complained. “They hold prayer meetings to the Goddess every day, and make places of worship, and give her flowers. None of them will be chosen, for sure.”

Indeed, the refugees on the road were mostly poor, with hardly enough money to feed themselves. What could they give to the Goddess?

“And you think that makes you more likely to be sacrificed?” Wataru asked them.

“Sure. Why, our bodies are the only things of value we have left.”

The more refugees Wataru saw on the road, the more certain of it he became. The ones leaving their homes in fear of Halnera were almost entirely poor.

It wasn’t just the refugees—they saw other things along their journey to make it even more miserable. In one town just beyond the border, from a small chapel where they would expect to hear songs of praise to the Goddess, they heard shouting and crying—followed rather unexpectedly by something that sounded like many voices chanting a spell. They approached to find a chapel in flames, and before it, a young man in a black robe standing on top of a wooden box. He was shouting a sermon, his fist raised into the air. Villagers gathered around him and watched, entranced. Bathed in their attention, the man’s eyes sparkled like sunshine on shallow pools of water. What if he’s the next Cactus Vira? Will he lead his new flock astray in the same way? Wataru grew more and more worried.

On the afternoon of their second day in Sasaya, they came to a fork in the road. A sign announced that the right headed to the sea and the capital of Sasaya. The left led into the mountains, toward Lourdes. The road to the left had less refugee traffic but was crowded with starseers commanding darbaba carts and udai. Some were headed from Lourdes to the capital, others in the opposite direction.

The starseers were of many ages and races, but all of them wore coats with tubed sleeves like Shin Suxin’s, making them easy to spot. There appeared to be different ranks among them, as well, each with its own costume. By far the most elaborate of the garments Wataru saw among the starseers was worn by an ankha woman about his mother’s age. She had on a rich purple coat with golden embroidery on the sleeves and hem. Her odd, conical hat was adorned with the same five-star pattern as that on the hilt of the Brave’s Sword.

They had been traveling along the mountain road through mixed forest for half a day when they saw it.

“Look, there!” Kee Keema leaned forward in his seat, pointing ahead of them. “See that rounded roof? That’s the National Observatory!”

It was already evening. The dome sparkled majestically against a pinktinged sky. It looked exactly like a planetarium from Wataru’s world. There was a half-transparent dome, with a large window cut out from it—probably, for some sort of telescope. Judging from the size, it must have been ten or twenty times larger than the one he had used in Shin Suxin’s house.

They finally left the forest and arrived at a place where they could see the National Observatory and all the town spread around it. The town looked as though it had been carved from the side of the mountain. A brick wall surrounded the whole of it. More than half the buildings were fashioned of the same indigenous material. Everything looked old. Some of the houses had broken windows and crumbling bricks. It was clear where the focus in the town lay: most of their money had gone to building the majestic observatory.

“The starseers come here to study and live. All of the buildings on the outside of town are their apartments.”

Men and women in those same tube-sleeved shirts were walking around everywhere. A darbaba cart, burdened with a mound of packages, was stopped by the town gate, and one of the gatemen was helping the driver unload his goods—all heavy-looking wooden crates. “Most likely books,” Kee Keema ventured. “Starseers spend the nights taking observations, so they tend to sleep during the day. That’s why the apartments in town are made with more floors beneath the ground than above it.”

Indeed, the buildings along the inside of the town wall were barely taller than the wall itself—only a single story high. Surprisingly enough, many of the roofs and the top of the wall were crowded with Highlanders on patrol. Wataru could see the bright crimson of their firewyrm bands clearly from the road.

“I wonder what they’re up to?” Meena wondered out loud. “Has there been trouble here?”

After the darbaba cart had been driven away, Wataru and the others approached the small guardhouse by the gate. The doors to the gate were made of thick iron bars, with a sturdy-looking bar drawn across them. The gateman was a beastkin with long, pointy ears.

“Oh? Highlanders, are you? Here to relieve some of the watch, perhaps?”

The gateman wore a breastplate of boiled leather, and a short sword hung from his waist. When he spoke it was with the crisp, no-nonsense tone of a soldier.

“Actually, we’ve come to speak with Dr. Baksan at the observatory. We were sent by the starseer, Shin Suxin.”

Wataru felt guilty using Shin Suxin’s name like that, but he didn’t see any other way of getting in to meet with the—no doubt very busy—Dr. Baksan.

“Ah, right. I’ll write you up a writ of passage. One moment.”

One of the Highlanders was watching them from atop the wall. She was of a race Wataru hadn’t seen before. Shape-wise she looked exactly like an ankha, except her skin was a shade of vibrant green that reminded him of new leaves in the spring. In her right hand was a bow, and on her back was slung a quiver full of arrows. She wore simple leather pads on her chest and shoulders, but her arms and legs were otherwise bare. She didn’t seem to have a hair on her body, and her head was gleaming and smooth. Wataru thought she was beautiful.

Their eyes met, and she began walking slowly toward the gate. She smiled, revealing pure white teeth. “Where you from?”

“Gasara.”

“You’ve come a long way then!”

“They’re here to see Dr. Baksan,” the gateman explained. “Here, your writ.”

The writ was a piece of paper about the size of a postcard. A map had been drawn on the back.

“Dr. Baksan’s study is on the top floor of the observatory.”

“Thanks.”

“You might have an easy time talking to Dr. Baksan, little one,” the woman said, chuckling.

“Huh? Why is that?”

“Go see him and you’ll understand.”

“I was wondering,” Meena said suddenly, “why all the security?”

“Can’t you see?” the green-skinned Highlander said, pointing down the road behind them. A large crowd of people had gathered. Behind them, they saw more people streaming out of the forest.

“It’s been like this ever since the messengers came. They all want to know who will be chosen as a sacrifice, and how to avoid being chosen. They think the starseers will tell them something. As if we knew something they didn’t.”

“We don’t like them loitering outside the walls, so we’ve told them to keep their distance,” the gateman said. “Go around to the back, you’ll see their campgrounds. It wouldn’t be a problem if they kept to themselves, but some of them get a little hot under the collar, demanding to be let into the observatory and meet with a high starseer. We’ve had some vandalism too. Thus the security.”

“I’m afraid their kind will only increase as the Blood Star waxes in the sky,” the green-skinned highlander said, looking down at the crowd. “This place, along with all government buildings, has been designated for level one security until Halnera ends. So they sent us out here…”

The woman stopped right in the middle of her sentence and burst into motion, swift as a gazelle, running down the top of the wall.

“Look!” Meena pointed.

A terribly emaciated man was climbing the wall, his hands clinging to the cracks between the bricks. The green-skinned Highlander ran until she was in firing range, then she stopped and lifted her bow. “You there! Stop! Off the wall! Comply or I’ll shoot!”

Another Highlander on patrol came running from the opposite side. He was carrying a spear. Meekly, the man jumped down from the wall and stepped back.

No wonder you need security,” Kee Keema grumbled.

“I just want to get inside!” the skinny man shouted up at the Highlanders. “I don’t mean anyone any harm.”

“No one without permission may enter the observatory.”

“So where do I get permission then?”

“This is a government facility. The public isn’t allowed inside.”

“That’s not fair!” the man said, scowling. “I see how it works. You government folks are sitting pretty up there. What do you care about us? You won’t get chosen for the sacrifice. Put yourself in our shoes! This is life and death for us down here. You can’t blame me for wanting to talk to the starseers and find out how I can avoid getting chosen, can you?”

A small crowd had gathered around the man, murmuring their approval.

“Even the high starseers cannot know the Goddess’s intent before it is made plain to all of us. Go home. Pray and wait,” one of the Highlanders called down to them.

“Go home and wait to die, you mean.”

“You’d best enter while the getting is good,” the gateman whispered to Wataru, unlocking the gate. “I need to close this up quick.”

The three went through, and the gate swung closed behind them with a clang. The crowd heard the sound and pressed closer. Pushing aside the gateman, they clung to the iron bars and stuck their faces through.

“Let us in too!”

“Why do they get special treatment? It’s not fair!”

Wedged between the iron bars, the faces of the crowd looked even sadder, more helpless, more pitiful. Wataru wondered how he looked from the other side. The whole situation was depressing.

“Let’s hurry up and get to this Baksan fellow’s place,” Kee Keema said, urging them on. He looked gloomy—a rare state for the usually jovial waterkin. “Seeing people who have lost their faith like this makes me ill.”

Meena was silent. Wataru, too, held his tongue, as they began to walk and follow the map.

Inside the building, the corridors were like a maze. There were tiny rooms everywhere, and even some places where they had to go through rooms to get to the next hall. They knew they had to go up, but they couldn’t find the stairs.

There was a surprising number of people in the building. Most of them were starseers, with those familiar tube-sleeved shirts, but there were many other younger people dressed in regular workmen’s clothes. Wataru had imagined they would find the starseers gathered in rooms, hotly debating esoteric facts about the universe. Instead, he found most of them sitting at desks making speculations, or examining thick books, or copying down passages from scrolls. In the hall, he ran into one particular starseer with his hands full of books. No sooner had Wataru apologized and picked up the books, than he ran into another. To make matters worse, most of the starseers seemed to have their heads in the clouds, and try as they might, they couldn’t get a straight answer as to where the stairs to the top floor were located.

“I have a feeling this place wasn’t quite so tall to begin with,” Kee Keema said, breaking a sweat. “It looks like they built on top of a pre-existing building, and then did it again. There’s probably no one stair that goes all the way up.”

They found one staircase and then began their search for another one. Still, they were making progress. After ascending a few staircases, Wataru could look out a random window and see how high they were from the ground. After a while, they could see the campground in the forest behind the town.

“According to our map, this should be the floor,” Wataru said, catching his breath. They had come up ten or eleven flights of stairs. There were fewer people and the hallway was empty. It was quiet.

“I think it’s here, at the end of this hall,” he said, pointing, when the door in front of them opened. A female starseer wearing a red shirt came hurrying out. Her arms, of course, were filled with books.

“Is Dr. Baksan in?” Wataru asked loudly. The woman shuffled past them, mumbling some formula to herself, and went down the stairs without even looking in his direction.

“Guess we’ll have to go see for ourselves,” Wataru said, stepping up to the door and knocking.

“Unnecessary!” a loud voice called from inside. It was a man’s voice, filled with a strange high-pitched tension. The three looked at each other.

“Maybe he’s saying that it’s okay to go in without knocking?” Meena suggested.

Wataru slowly thrust his head into the room to see a veritable mountain of books and scrolls. And not just one mountain—he counted at least five separate stacks. Two walls of the room were actually large windows. The room was filled with sunlight, so bright Wataru had to squint.

“Is Dr. Baksan in?”

A cloud of dust rose from between two of the piles of books toward the back of the room.

“Unnecessary!” the voice said again.

“Um, we’ve come here to see Dr. Baksan.”

More dust rose. “Then come over here! I’m not there, that’s for sure.”

So it was Dr. Baksan. Wataru stepped inside the room. “Excuse me, but where are you, sir?”

“Here!” came the voice, accompanied by another cloud of dust, this time in a slightly different place than before. The three split up and began moving between the piles of books, looking for the source of the voice.

He seemed to be nowhere. Kee Keema craned his neck. “I don’t see him.”

“Excuse me, but where are you, sir?”

“I said I’m here!” shouted a voice from Wataru’s feet. He sounded angry.

“Here?”

Someone was tugging on the laces of Wataru’s boot. Wataru glanced down and yelped. By reflex, he jumped back, colliding with a nearby stack of books.

“Oy! Watch out!”

The sound of the books tipping over was followed immediately by a scream from Kee Keema. He was quickly buried beneath a mound of books.