We followed
this one anyway. We reached the base of the mountains at just about noon. There
were evergreen trees among the foothills. We slowed to a speed just faster than
a man can run. The road wound upwards, using both switchbacks and natural
courses to maintain its preternaturally even ascent. It cut across
boulderfields, and I wondered what by what process it kept itself clear of
those. It switched sides across several valleys, and simply let the streams
flow over it. It climbed always. The day remained calm. The trees diminished.
By dusk we
approached an area of cliffs and crevasses as the Road to the Sun edged its way
along several glaciers. I looked up at the jagged silhouettes of the Spine of
the World, still high overhead, and declared encampment for the night. I hated
stopping, but would lose no more men to this endeavor. We cut and burned the
valley’s dwarf pines for fuel. Nogilian had said the Cup of the Gods would not
be far, a half day’s ride away.
“Correct me
if my geography’s wrong,” I told Nogilian. “But we’re not far from Kasora.”
Across the
fire, he nodded. “The Cup of Gods sits in a pass on the other side of which is
the snowfield that births the cascade above the city. The Shuni believed that
the Road to the Sun once connected the jewel city to those of the plateau. But
this makes no sense. There is no road on the other side, only precipice.”
I shook my
head, chuckling. “You Thaeronians,” I said. “Even when you see it, you don’t
see it.”
His eyes
narrowed. “What do you mean?”
I took a
breath. “On Earth, we live in vast cities, the size of mountains, that contain
millions of people on each level. There are only seven of them, probably only
seven in the whole universe. And the top level is always the head honchos, the
prince or dictator or oligarchs or whatever other damned system the city
happens to have in power at the time. But on the level just below them is
always the district of the military, a city unto itself, complete with
facilities for training soldiers and their officers.
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