The rim
You'd best see for yourself
This is an installment in a serialized novel. To start at the beginning, go here or navigate from the Table of Contents.
When Rahn awoke, a baby goat was standing on her chest, looking at her with head tilted. As she stirred, the goat bleated in surprise and bounced away.
Rahn rose onto her elbows and looked around. She lay in a grassy pasture. There were several goats about, and also some sheep, a few camels, and a single milk cow.
“Good mornin’ to ya,” called a man’s voice, followed by a strong tremor of laughter. Rahn glanced at the sun, just beginning its downward arc, and then looked around to see the man approaching.
“My wife said I should have brought ya into the tent, or at least some matter of shade, but I told her, she looks mighty comfortacious where she lay, and here’s the softest grass you’ll find– I wager a mite softer than my old bedmat.” And here he broke again into a bout of laughter. He approached with a heavy limp in his step.
“Then there’s the matter of I’m too old to be hefting folks around, be they young ladies or not, and I got my leg to reckon with, though my wife said I could have tied ya to the cow and drug ya, but I told her, why the cow? A camel’d be more cooperatory. She did agree about the camel, but I told her, I wager this lass’d prefer to lay all peaceable in the grass, notwithstanding the sun and an occasional goat, rather than getting drug over the ground by any beast, humps or not.” More laughter. “I did keep an eye,” he said, “that the animals didn’t tread on ya, notwithstanding the goats.”
The man stood peering curiously down at Rahn, who still sat in a bewildered state on the grass.
“Ah, I get ahead of myself, I do–the name is Arbehil, though some call me Arb, being that patience is not in the general nature of men, though I don’t fault them for the lack,” he chuckled. “Women too, though of course no such character foibles are pertinentious to my wife. But I’m getting away from what I came with the purpose of asking, which is, what is your name?”
Rahn had risen shakily to her feet during this last bit. But she was caught unprepared by the pause in the barrage of speech, and had to consider a moment in order to answer the question.
“Rahn,” she said, for some reason choosing not to give her full matrilineal name.
“Rahn,” he repeated, “that’s an odd enough name, and you’ve an odd enough look. Thought you were Veyta until you opened your eyes. Hard to tell from a distance these days, what with so many young Enedram women goin’ about with heads uncovered. But never mind, I’ve seen odder types in my day, believe you me. Sabzoras is just about full of ‘em– odd types, that is. But even the oddest types don’t tend to arrive as you did, falling asleep half dead in the middle of…”
“Wait—” Rahn interjected with some difficulty, “Sabzoras? This is Sabzoras?”
“Well of course,” said Arb, “Where did you think you were, if you don’t mind me asking? Seeing that there are mighty few alternatory destinations in these…” He left off, for this time it was Rahn who had thrown her head back in laughter.
“Payma!” said Rahn, taking a breath, “you are a herding-bird! This time you herded me, just where I needed to go.” But the hawk was away, circling somewhere far above.
Arb looked at Rahn with some concern. “Yes, you are an odd one…” he scratched his scraggly gray beard, “but then again, could well enough be just a mite of sunstroke. Either way it seems you’re due for some refreshment in the form of a bite to eat and more than a bit of washing, if you don’t mind my saying. My wife said we ought to dunk ya straight in the lake, but I told her…”
The man continued on in a continual string of speech as he led Rahn across the pasture, stepping once over an irrigation levee, toward a large tent. In front of the tent was a cookfire, and an old woman with a dusty-colored headscarf stood near it, tending a pot of something good-smelling.
“...and did ya ever think to see a goat that… why, what an aroma, my wife has outdone herself this time! Truly, my love, never have I smelled a dish as delectalous…”
“Arb!” the woman cut in, “Who’s the young lady?”
“Why yes, my love, this here is Rahn, who’s yet to give any details about her provenation, but she doesn’t look much like the suspectable raider-folk the guards have been watching out for, so I’ll wager…”
“Thank you, Arb dear,” said the woman, “and welcome, Rahn.” She held her hands out, palms up. “I’m called Galthe, and I see you’ve met Arb. Now come and have a bowl and a drink before we trouble you with any more questions.”
Rahn was more than happy to comply, refusing Arb’s offer of his stool and instead sitting on the grass. She gratefully accepted the cup and bowl that were offered her. Arb chattered on as they ate, but Rahn was glad for the chance to eat and drink without having to speak. Though she found it hard to stay focused on the relentless stream of speech, she gleaned a few bits of information from his prattle. Trade had been irregular lately, he said, due to ‘disturbances’ at other trading posts on the plains. And the pastures here, she learned, were irrigated periodically by flooding, as she had guessed from the levee.
“...won’t be need for waterin’ for some time,” continued Arb. “Ay, the pump mules are right pleased with the situation, yes, they’re liable to grow fat and lazy, may have to be butchered and sold for the meat.” He laughed, and Galthe, seeing that Rahn had finished eating, took the opportunity to cut in.
“Now dearie,” said Galthe, “where are you from, and what brings you through Sabzoras?”
“I’ll wager she got separated from a caravan,” said Arb, “seeing as she…” Arb trailed off, having received a pointed nudge from Galthe. The old woman smiled encouragingly at Rahn.
“I…” began Rahn, “I’m from the mountains.” Arb and Galthe exchanged a look, as if this explained a lot. “And I came here because I need to get to Yanat. I’m looking for something, a tomb… it’s a long story. But I don’t know the way, and I was hoping to find someone here who knows how to get there.”
“Yanat, eh,” said Arb thoughtfully, “a long way off, that one, and not an easy trek from what I’m told. You’ll be wanting to travel with a caravan, of course. I myself thought of venturing thataways in my younger days…” Galthe nudged him again.
“If you don’t mind my saying,” said Rahn, “I thought Sabzoras would be… busier.” She looked out at the pastures, full only of peacefully grazing animals.
“Busier,” Arb laughed, “Busy indeed! Too busy, if you ask me. That’s why we stay out here on the rim. Not to mention it being a mite of a challenge with a leg such as mine. And someone’s got to tend the goats, eh? Good business, too, supplying meat and milk to yon underfolk.” Arb coughed, seeming to have inhaled part of his stew as he talked.
“Underfolk?” asked Rahn.
“You’d best see for yourself, dearie,” said Galthe. Arb was still coughing, and she patted him absently on the back. “But not before you’ve had a wash.”
As Galthe appeared firm on this point, Rahn complied, following the woman to a small tent containing a basin and jug, as well as a small lump of soap.
Some time later, she emerged feeling refreshed. “Hello, Payma,” she said as the hawk reappeared and alighted on her shoulder. “I think I owe you this,” she said, offering a piece of meat that she had pocketed from the meal earlier. The hawk swallowed it eagerly, seeming to be in good spirits as well.
After a time, Arb said he would take Rahn to show her the rest of Sabzoras, where she might find a caravan to travel with. This entailed some minor preparations including the old man being hoisted onto the back of a camel–an operation that required a large amount of pulling and shoving on the part of Rahn and Galthe. Rahn said she preferred to walk.
And so Rahn bid goodbye to Galthe and thanked her. At this the old woman gave her an odd look, and Rahn realized that she had drawn her fingers across her forehead–a Veyta gesture. Without pausing to explain, Rahn turned to jog after Arb, who had already set off on his camel and seemed to be carrying on an animated conversation with it.
Rahn had been surprised that Arb was inclined to set off so late in the day, for Rahn could see nothing ahead of her but a small string of camels in the distance, surrounded by more pastureland dotted with grazing goats. But after only a short time, Rahn heard voices ahead, and Arb announced that they were nearly there. And then all at once, they crested a low ridge and saw it.
Before them gaped an immense hole in the desert floor– a round sinkhole with a diameter nearly the size of the Winter Home and inner cliffs that plunged vertically to a lake below. Rahn had heard that there was a sinkhole at Sabzoras, but she hadn’t understood that Sabzoras was a sinkhole–a hole that was filled to the brim with life. Caves had been dug into the rock cliffsides. And all around the inside of the hole ran a kind of mad scaffolding composed of bits of wood and copious lengths of ropebrush cord tied into all manner of lines, ladders, and nets. Swinging rope bridges stretched recklessly across the cylinder at different altitudes. And far below, a few people were swimming in the lake.
It was loud, too, the gathered din of the voices within echoing off the rock walls and spilling out onto the plains. “Yes, it’s a right cacophonate place, Sabzoras. There’s another reason I prefer livin’ on the rim–being that I’m a man who enjoys peace and quiet. But that’s a matter neither here nor there. The question pertinacious to this moment being whether or not you’re possessed of the ability to navigate aquiferous environments.”
“What?” said Rahn.
“Can. You. Swim?” Arb had taken Rahn’s lack of understanding to be due to the noise, and had compensated by shouting.
“Swim? What… no,” replied Rahn with minor alarm. “Do I need to?”
“No,” he said, still speaking louder than necessary, “not unless you fall in.” He chuckled– “And I wouldn’t advise doing that from the upper levels, not if you want to keep all your parts intactful, if you take my meaning. But given the situation, I recommend making use of this.”
He produced a length of rope with a metal loop on one end that could be easily opened and shut.
“A fellow—or a young lady, as it goes— ties it about the waist, like so,” he demonstrated, “and hooks the other end onto whatever’s at hand. They’re used to keep babes and tots from tumblin’ into the lake, but folks that come through for trade and whatnot tend to use ‘em too, seeing as they’re not accustomable to clamberin’ about on rocks and ropes.”
Rahn took the rope with a word of thanks, still thinking about the mothers of Sabzoras hauling up toddlers they’d noticed dangling off the cliffsides.
“Now with regard to the matter of caravans, you’ll want to talk to Achu all the way down on the second level. He’s the one as knows who’s a-coming and who’s a-going and whither, and arranges all manner of arrangements.”
“Achu?”
“Indeed, like the sneeze,” Arb chortled. “Now I’m of a mind that it’s a humorate name and that a person ought to enjoy a laugh when the opportunity presents itself in this life. But I’m afraid Achu doesn’t take kindly to people laughing at his name. In fact, there are a number of things he doesn’t take kindly to–you’d be well advised to mind your manners around that one. But he’s an honest dealer, that one, and he’ll treat ya fair in matters of business as long as you’ve got the money to pay.”
“Money?” said Rahn, blinking.
“Yes,” said Arb, “Folks here like to have Yanat copper when they can get it, but to tell the truth, all manner of currency float about. I shouldn’t say float, heh– if the lake dried up tomorrow, I reckon the ground would be paved in all the copper and silver that’s sunk to the bottom over the years. But what was I getting at? Ah yes–Achu being the one you’ll want to deal with. Not all the folks in Sabzoras are as honest–in fact, there are plenty of right slippery characters that you’ll want to watch out for, particularly on the third level. But don’t let me worry ya overmuch–keep your head on your shoulders and you’ll be alright!”
“Arb,” said Rahn sincerely, “thank you for helping me. I showed up here as a stranger and I didn’t expect… just, thank you, and Galthe too.” Rahn had grown up with the idea that Enedram were backward and simple. But she had only met a handful of them in her life, and they had all, like Arb and Galthe, treated her more kindly than her own people.
“What did you say?” said Arb loudly, for a wave of raucous laughter and noise emanated from the sunken city at that moment.
“I said… thanks,” Rahn held out her hand, palm down in the usual way. Arb grasped it, but there was a look of surprise on his face like Galthe’s earlier, and Rahn remembered that brown-eyed Enedram women didn’t usually grasp men’s hands. She would have to be more careful if she wanted to pass for Enedram. Was that her plan? She wasn’t sure, but decided to leave the matter aside for now.
Soon, Arb turned his camel back the way they’d come, and Rahn stepped forward to the rim. The hawk on her shoulder seemed agitated. “I know it’s noisy,” she said, “but you’ll get used to it.” In response, the hawk flapped its wings and drifted away upward. Rahn sighed. “I guess I’m on my own, then.” And with that, she began her descent into the pit.