The Lava Beasts of Titan by John Sloan
Novitiate Sym'An investigates an object descending from the sky that threatens to shatter the ideologies his world is built upon.
Sym'An the Novice could not believe his eye.
High in the Motherless orange sky, a strange object hung on lines from a floating overturned bowl. The lines looked a bit like spinners' ropes but even more delicate. The bowl appeared to be made of a membrane. Slowly descending, the object dropped behind a low ridge, trailing that membranous cup. Sym'An scuttled out of his small hermitage hovel, cut into the side of a dune, and made for the landing site as fast as his ten legs could carry him.
It was the 100th day of Sym'An's wilderness fast among endless dunes and strewn rocks of an ancient seabed. How he wished the seabed was wet with life water. The fast had been long, and Sym'An was very thirsty. The sky was Motherless as the Holy Mother was not visible on this side of the world. There was only the bright dot of the Son. Contemplating the empty sky was a practice for many a thirsty aspiring novice of the Order of the Devoted.
Now there was this thing. This wonder. Sym'An had once witnessed a sky fire stone. That object had shone bright with streaking fire and crashed into the ground with a thunderous crack and a flash brighter than a dozen Sons. Some had been blinded by it. Later, Sym'An had joined an expedition to collect lava glass and rare ores at the crater. Where that object had been all noise and violence, this object was silent and serene in its descent. At this speed, it would not crash into the surface but touch the ground as gently as Sym'An would if he were to jump off a small boulder.
Even at a fast run, it took most of the day for Sym'An to reach the object. He paused only once, briefly, at the edge of the ridge to see if it was still there. He feared that it might have scuttled away. But the object was motionless among the rocks. A short distance away was the cup that had retarded the descent. It definitely was a membrane of sorts because now it was collapsed flat on the ground. Sym'An slowed his approach as he drew near. He made the Sign of the Halo several times and whispered a careful prayer of benediction in the name of the Mother. He did not want to die. The object did not move.
Its body was round, not unlike a person, but it was fully twice the size of Sym'An. It was also not smooth like a person. It had crimped edges all around its outside and many small appendages coming out near its base. The appendages were too small to be legs (which Sym'An was half expecting to suddenly sprout from the object's body.) The lower part of the body was a round, wide dish, slightly wider than the upper part. It had nestled neatly into the dust when it hit the surface. With tender care, Sym'An circled the object, noting its many odd protuberances. He followed the rope lines over to the cup, flat and motionless now. Back toward the object, Sym'An at first whispered and then shouted a range of prayers of protection and exorcism and then, finally, a meek "Hello?"
Nothing. The object did not move or make a sound. Sym'An then did something that would probably not be in a manual for contact with a possible celestial visitor. He picked up one of the many rocks lying about and threw it at the thing. The rock bounced off the object, making an odd sound, not the crack of one rock hitting another nor the dull thud of a hard object hitting a softer, water-filled object like a person. The sound was higher pitch, a clang. It had a hollowness to it. It was not filled with water like a living thing. Sym'An resolved to touch it. He reached out toward one of the tiny appendages.
There was a flash of light. A jolt of pain and then blackness. Sym'An would have felt incredibly stupid if he could have felt anything at all.
From the darkness, he came into the light of dawn in the northern lake country. Sym'An was standing on a small rise, looking down toward the chain of lakes he called home. To the left were the dune lands. The great dunes came from the southern horizon and marched all the way to the water's edge. On the right, there were the rugged hills of the Maw'Rah Range. These were small lakes connected by shallow, meandering streams. They shimmered in the orange light of the dawn sky and the bright spot of the rising Son.
The Mother was there in the sky, huge in Her terrible beauty. Her halo was at an angle with its tip below the horizon. There She would always be. 'Constant as the Mother' was the saying. This side of the world always faced the Mother in both day and night, and the false night when the Son would pass behind Her. On this morning Sym'An could just make out one of the other child-worlds, the one they called Cel'As, as she passed across the glorious face of the Mother.
In the beginning, the Mother was alone in the void. She had commanded the tiny lights of the sky into being and the child-worlds into her orbit. Of all these children, there was one she loved more than all the others, the Son. But the Son grew vain and felt he was greater than even the Mother. His growing light threatened to scorch the other worlds. The Mother cast him out to a distant exile, where he remains a bright point of light. She then fashioned Her great halo to show that she was the one God. There is no other.
"Blessed be the Mother," said Sym'An as he made the Sign of the Halo.
As if in answer to his prayer, a gentle welcoming breeze came up from the lakes and filled his vesicles with a fresh scent of nutrient-rich water. Sym'An felt at peace and filled with joy at being home. He realized he was very thirsty. He made his way down the rise to the refreshing waters below. One of his legs hurt very much.
Sym'An awoke.
Gone were the lakes and the mountains. Gone too was the Mother from the sky. He was back on the dry seabed near the object that had come from the sky. It was morning. Sym'An had been unconscious through the night. At least one night. Perhaps more. He was very thirsty. His leg hurt.
The leg was burned, but Sym'An counted himself lucky that he could feel the pain. A dune fire jolt, which he assumed this was akin to, could destroy limbs and even cause a death burn. He rose up on his legs and gingerly put weight on the damaged limb. It held. The object was motionless as ever.
"What are you?" asked Sym'An, not expecting an answer. "Who are you?"
The object remained still. Sym'An prayed for guidance. He asked the Mother what he should do next. Where did this thing come from? There were tales in his youth, whispered in the night, of life on the other worlds orbiting the Mother. Could the thing have been sent by one of them? Perhaps it was one of them, a living thing unlike anything on his world. But the Church forbade such stories. There was only one World and one people blessed with life by the Mother.
"Mother. I am but your most humble servant. Tell me what I am to do. Should I go back to my hermit hole for the remaining days of my fast? Or should I return to my abbey and report what I have seen?"
Sym'An waited for a long time. There was no obvious response from the Mother. She was characteristically silent as She was to all supplicants except, perhaps, the Grand High Snuf'Er of the Cathedral of Ann'As, first among the children, he who had the ear of the Mother. (But even Sym'An, whose faith was deep, secretly doubted that the High Priest ever heard anything.)
In the end, Sym'An's mind was decided not by divine intervention but by the barking innards of his own body. The sacred fast was supposed to be spent in a state of contemplative stillness, not running around the wasteland as Sym'An had done. Exertion equaled lost water. Then there was the injury he had sustained to his leg. If he were to return to his hovel for the remaining 200 days of his fast, the Ranger retrieval party would likely find only a husk as hollow as the object before him now. Sym'An chose to live, though he told himself he had chosen to bring word of this find to the authorities.
"Mother, your humble servant thanks you," said Sym'An, as if it was all Her idea. Who knew? Perhaps it was. He made the Sign of the Halo and set off for the abbey.
Gil'Am was a curious and thoughtful child who had an annoying habit of throwing rocks.
Truth be told, the annoying habit was hurling rocks with mechanical help. The ten-legged people of the world had many talents, but velocity was not one of them. To lift a tiny pebble with two legs and attempt to throw the rock was rewarded with a very short flight. The legs just were not made to move that fast. The Novice Sym'An's heaving a small rock toward the object from the sky was the very limit of a person's rock throwing capability.
Gil'Am spent a lot of time off pondering the sky and the ground, as well as the Mother and Her child-worlds, and the round rocks that littered the dry seabed where his people lived. Unlike most people, who went about their work and worship in peace, Gil'Am seemed perpetually obsessed with strange, some would say crazy, questions.
Why is it that a dropped stone falls down and not up? If everything falls down, why does the Mother stay in the sky? Why does she not fall onto us and we onto her?
Gil'Am's mother was understandably concerned.
Gil'Am eventually solved his problem using rock throwing. One day, he observed some builders attempting to raise a rock into place using spinners' line and a membranous cradle. As they lifted the rock, the lines stretched and then, quite unexpectedly, one line broke free with a loud snap. The rock stayed on the ground, but the suddenly freed line moved with incredible force and velocity.
That gave Gil'Am an idea.
He gathered some particularly stretchy spinner's line and a membrane satchel bag that his mother used sometimes. Near the village, he found two pinnacle rocks that were several times his height and just the right distance apart. Gil'Am attached four spinner's lines to the rocks and the other ends to the satchel. He then put a small round rock into the satchel and carried the thing away from the pinnacle stones. The spinners' lines grew more taught with every step. When the lines were stretched as far as possible, Gil'Am let go. With a snap, the satchel was carried back to the pinnacle stones at a blurring speed and the stone flew free. Gil'Am leaped with excitement, though his slow legs did not launch him far. He spent the days that followed gathering stones of various size and weight and launching them with his sling thing. He would carefully observe the flight and the distance.
From these observations, Gil'Am developed a theory.
There was a force in the world by which a large thing attracted a small thing. This force is what made things heavy. The larger and more dense the rock the more force it drew. When thrown, the rock would fly free for a time, but eventually the force of the world would overcome the force of the throw and it would arc down to the ground. This theory explained why things fell down but not why the Mother and the children of the Mother didn't fall into each other. Or did it? This question required more thought and a further experiment. But unlike his rock hurling experiments, this one was conducted entirely within young Gil'Am's mind.
Everybody knew that the world was round. Gil'Am imagined a sling so powerful that when he loosed his rock, it would travel an enormous distance over the horizon before the inevitable force of the world dragged it down. What if the curve of the fall was the same as the curve of the world? Would it not fall on the world but around it? If the curve was just right, it would fall around, or orbit, the world forever.
Gil'Am never got to share the news with anybody but his mother. One day, when returning from one of his rock-throwing experiments, he was met at home by his mother and two weapon-bearing people. By their spinner garb, he recognized them as Church Police.
"Gil'Am, you need to talk with these people," said Mother. "There have been complaints."
Through an unfortunate oversight on his part, Gil'Am's sling apparatus was pointed toward the village. Nobody had been hurt, but the villagers were quite distressed that Mad Gil'Am was apparently bringing rocks down from the sky onto their homes. The Church Police appeared not to be too bothered by Gil'Am's error. They were far more interested in why he was throwing rocks. They spoke with him for a long while. Gil'Am's mother fretted with her legs a short distance away, her eye glazed over with a tear. Eventually, they sent Gil'Am off and turned to her to confirm her worst fear.
"Gil'Am will be coming with us, ma'am. I'm afraid your son is quite mad."
She quivered with emotion, her eye dripping a full tear now. The police were consoling.
"Don't be sad, ma'am. He's coming with us to the Asylum. He will be happy there. There he will be with others like him, and he will indulge his delusions, these many questions of his. We are not beasts, ma'am. The Church has found that, carefully cared for, those with conditions like Gil'Am's can lead happy lives while being of some use. For example, the engine that Gil'Am constructed for hurling rocks could have military applications. We will take that with us as well."
The other Church Police person bounced up and down in vigorous agreement.
Sym'An trembled before the Lord Abbot.
Witnessing creatures of unknown origin falling from the sky was somewhat disconcerting, but the Abbot was truly terrifying. Abbot Bili'Um was nearly twice Sym'An's size and decked out in the full regalia of the office, including a halo of polished lava glass. Only abbots, bishops, and other high officials could wear one. The sight of it made Sym'An secrete a little water, amazing given he was still quite thirsty from his desert fast.
"So," began the Abbot. "You have abandoned your hermitage. Are you aware of the penalty for such a brazen act?"
"I am sure it is severe, Lord Abbot," said Sym'An cowering and losing a bit more water.
"Severe?" rumbled the Abbot. "Simpleton, you do not know! Torture is not unheard of. Legs have been lost. And those were lucky ones. Expulsion to the desert is an option. Would you like that, Brother Sym'An?"
Sym'An gestured negatively. The Abbot seemed small and farther away now, as at the end of a long passage. Sym'An's mind wandered to thoughts of torture and lost legs. He thought of an elderly monk, Brother Met'Ak the Odd Legged, and wondered if he -
"Sym'An!"
"Sire!" The Abbot was back larger than ever.
"Why are you here? Why have you broken the sacred fast?"
"Because..." Sym'An was swaying now. His eye squeezed shut.
"Yesss?"
"Because of..."
"Talk, idiot!"
"Because of the thing that came from the sky!"
"Ah, progress," said the Abbot. "So this thing you saw in the - wait, what?" He blinked his eye. "Did you mean the thing you saw in the sky?"
"Yes, I saw the thing in the sky."
"OK, then."
"But then it came down from the sky and alighted upon the land."
Something was telling Bili'Um that this would not be just another hallucinating novice story.
"You mean to say that you witnessed an object from the sky crash onto the surface."
"It did not crash, sire. It alighted. It was not like a sky fire stone."
Bili'Um took a moment to ponder that. The young one appeared to have witnessed something extraordinary.
"Did you see this object up close?"
"Yes, Lord Abbot. It was as big as you, but without the legs, and the halo, of course. There were also three spinners lines and a membrane cup that came down with it."
"How close did you get to it?"
"Very. I tried to speak to it. I don't think it was a living thing. It sounded hollow, like the carapace of a dead person who has been left in the desert for a long time. At least that is what it seemed when I threw the rock at it."
"You what? You were confronted by some unknown massive monstrosity from the sky -"
"Your size, sire. Not monstrous."
"What!"
Sym'An cowered a bit more, let go of some more water and began to shake.
"You threw a rock at it."
"Yes."
"And you are sure it was not alive."
"Mostly, sire."
"Mostly?"
"Well, it did this to me," he held up his burn-damaged leg, "when I tried to touch it."
"You tried to - never mind that. It looks like a dune fire burn. Do you think dunes are alive?"
"I should think not, sire. Unless. You think, er, are they?"
"Enough!" thundered the Abbot. "You are an idiot!"
"Indeed, I am, sire"
"You are a simpleton."
"I am nothing, little more than dirt."
"Tell me why I should not have you punished. Why should you keep all your legs? Tell me now!"
"Murg wah wah," murmured Sym'An before he again dropped from the world of consciousness into the black.
The Abbot regarded his unconscious novice for a few moments, pondering what had been revealed and to make sure that no more statements beyond "Murg wah wah" would be forthcoming. He called for the chamberlain.
"Sire?"
"Have this one taken to the infirmary for a rest and a nutrient bath. When he has recovered, inform him that he will not be tortured."
"Yes, sire."
"Tell him his penance will be to complete the fast somewhere else. Find him a suitable hermit hole away from where he was."
"Sire."
"And have Brother Ranger report to me at once. I have a job for his team."
"Sire?"
"This is troubling business, Tin'Us. We will need a proper investigation. Mother City will need to be notified."
"A pity, sire."
The Church Police had not lied.
The Grand Asylum was everything they had said and more. Young Gil'Am was well treated and allowed to indulge his curiosity. He consorted with other inmates and found them stimulating. Some were even more clever than he was. Others truly were insane. The Church really couldn't tell them all apart. It was interested mainly in ideas that were useful. After careful vetting, only these ideas were allowed out of the Asylum.
The Grand Asylum was created shortly after the wonder of the modern age. They called it the Forge. It made sense, given that their anatomy featured a single enormous eye, that optics was one of the first types of science explored by the people. Soon they were cutting and polishing great pieces of lava glass, mined from the bottom of the Suxtal Caldera, into great lenses. It was discovered that the light, and heat, from a source like the Son could be collected and focused on an intense point. So intense was this point of heat that it could melt base rock.
The great Forge ushered in the third age of the people - the age of glass. Long had the people toiled to live, first in sand hovels cut into dunes, then rudimentary dwellings of cut stone. The Forge made possible glass temples and sparkling cities. More importantly, the Forge made possible the creation of terrible weapons that the armies of the Church used to obliterate heretics and unbelievers.
Unfortunately, many of the heretical leaders were members of the same groups of thinkers that created the Forge. One of the greatest heresies, Son worship, began with them. This fixation on the power of the Son to heat and to brighten led to a belief that the Son was greater than the Mother. This heresy was more popular in the nether regions of the world, where the Son rose and set every day, but the Mother was not visible in their sky.
There were many crusades, and much life's water was spilled in the name of religious purity. At one point, almost all the seekers had been silenced, many permanently. But then one Grand Snuf'Er of the Church of the Mother, Garl'Ap the Decent, saved the last of the seekers with his idea of the Asylum. Where the simple stout regular folk saw madness, the more clever of those in power saw potential. Here the mad could be cared for, and exploited, with their more troubling ideas carefully sealed away from the world.
Over many years, Gil'Am eventually achieved the title of Master. The Masters of the Asylum were the most accomplished. Many had achieved true wonders. One of the first Masters, Mag'Num the Meticulous, had discovered many distinct forms of matter within the rocks and dust of the World. He called these metals, minerals, salts, and gases "elements" and found many interesting reactions when these were isolated and combined. Some combinations produced heat and even light to rival the Forge.
There were many others among the storied Masters. Amb'Ros the Unfortunate filled a large membrane bag with gaseous elements captured from the Forge. Hanging beneath the bag and tethered to the ground with a very long spinners line, Amb'Ros floated high into the sky. His report upon return was astounding. High above the clouds, the sky is not orange but blue, said Amb'Ros, and one can see many more points of light than visible from the ground.
Amb'Ros was unable to complete another flight. His vehicle attracted a bolt of dune fire and exploded with a spectacular flame. He was indeed unfortunate.
Of all Gil'Am's experiences in the Asylum the greatest was being given time to use the Great Eye. Through this instrument, made of carefully set lenses of lava glass, Gil'Am could peer into the mysteries of the heavens. Through the Great Eye he had made many discoveries. He had mapped the surfaces of other child-worlds of the Mother. On the Mother Herself he had seen bands of clouds and storms and, most astonishing, he had discovered that the great halo was not solid circles but bands of floating rocks and glittering sand that were perfectly aligned in their orbit of the Mother.
Gil'Am's curiosity took him further as he cast his eye into the void. He began a study of the most distant object discernible with the Great Eye, the Son. And so it came to pass that on the same day that Sym'An the Novice was having his encounter with the object from the sky, Gil'Am made a most remarkable discovery. Peering at a magnified projection of the Son, Gil'Am saw a tiny speck crossing the fiery disk. The dot moved across the face of the Son in a straight line.
On closer inspection, the tiny dot was a cluster of two. One dot was larger than the other. But both were proceeding together. It was a transition of a world, or worlds, not unlike when daughter worlds of the Mother can be seen transiting across Her face. The dot was a world orbiting the Son and the smaller dot was orbiting the bigger dot.
Gil'Am blinked his eye. Of all the heretical thoughts he had ever had, the biggest heresy of all came to him just then.
Brother Sym'An was entirely too in awe of the Mother City to realize his life was in danger.
The city shone in the morning light. From a rise near the city gates, he could see the whole metropolis spread out between him and the great sea. The cityscape was dominated by the Temple of the Mother. At the other end of the city, almost as large as the Temple, was the Dome of the Forge. Then there was the Sea of Arb'Us, the largest body of water in the world, so much larger than the lakes of Sym'An's youth.
Sym'An's weary caravan had camped there for the night to enter the city in the morning light. His awe remained in full force as the caravan traversed the teeming city. There were people everywhere, many more than he had ever seen in one place. More than the village of his birth, and certainly more than anyone would see in the central desert. Everywhere he looked, there was color and movement. The smells that filled his vesicles were overwhelming, both fragrant and repugnant. The metropolitan glitter easily hid the dirt and squalor that such places attract.
Nearly a year, 700 days, had passed since Sym'An's encounter with the strange object in the desert. The spring rains had come to that parched land, darkening the floor of the ancient seabed and filling the cisterns of its far-flung communities, such as the Abbey of the Devoted. Sym'An had become practiced at laying low so as not to incur the further wrath of the Abbot. He had quietly finished his desert fast and returned to the Abbey to take his final vows. He spoke little and kept to himself, but even in his self-imposed solitude, he was not impervious to the whispers of his fellow monks.
According to these whispers, Brother Ranger and his team had found the object much as Sym'An had described it. Beyond this, the rumors and conjecture swirled. Some said that the Mother had spoken directly to the young novice. Others said demons and other evil minions of the Son had been spotted in the vicinity and these surely had corrupted Sym'An.
As distressing as these stories were, Sym'An was steadfast in his silence. Choosing silence was refusing to give such stories credence. But refusing to engage also meant they were not actively refuted. Then the day came when Sym'An was again called before the Lord Abbot.
"You are to be sent to the Mother City," the Abbot stated with no fanfare. "You are to appear before an inquisition into this object of yours, as you were the only one to witness its arrival."
"It is not mine, sire."
"What?"
"It is not my object."
A weary wave. "Yes, yes. Just tell them what you saw as you told me. No embellishments. No deities or demons. Understood?"
"Yes, sire. Ah, should I have seen them?"
"What?"
"Deities or demons? I don't know what they would look like."
"Just get out."
"Yes, sire."
The caravan guide wasted no time in depositing Sym'An at the entrance to the Grand Temple of the Mother.
"There you go, young brother," he said. "May the Mother keep you safe."
It was an odd benediction, thought Sym'An. Where would a devotee of the Mother be safer than within the Church itself? In his own joy, Sym'An also failed to notice the guide's sadness. For the guide had seen many a traveler to the gates of the church, but few had ever emerged.
Sym'An was met by a delegation of courtiers who wasted no time taking him to a nutrient bath, followed by some grooming and dressing. They spoke little, only to tell him that his testimony was urgently required.
The main hall of the Grand Temple of the Mother was as spectacular as he had imagined. Much of it was built from blocks of glass, and the light of the Son and the Mother sparkled through. Through a great circular eyeglass in the ceiling, the Mother could be seen in her ageless serenity. On a dais at the front of the hall sat the Grand Snuf'Er himself, flanked by senior bishops of the Church. Their halos of office also glittered.
To the left of the dais was the chief interrogator, the Grand Inquisitor himself. To the right was a motley collection of unkempt individuals. It took Sym'An's breath away to realize that these were residents of the Asylum. He had heard that they may be here. He resisted a sudden urge to bless himself with the Sign of the Halo and could only hope that their madness did not spread from proximity.
In the center of the hall, in front of the dais, was the object that Sym'An had seen a year earlier. It had been altered. Parts of its surface had been pried open and its inner parts were exposed. There was also another artifact before the assembled clergy. Covered in an opaque membrane blanket, it appeared to be a large block of some sort.
The proceedings were quickly convened. Sym'An was called forth to give his testimony by the Grand Inquisitor. He trembled as he came forward under the eyes of so much prominence. But he gave his account, as the Abbot had ordered, just as he remembered it. No embellishments. He left out the dream of home.
"In the morning, I regained consciousness and, after some prayer to the Mother, decided I should return to the abbey," Sym'An concluded. He began to step away but was stopped by a gesture from the Grand Inquisitor. Apparently, there were further questions.
"Brother Sym'An," said the Inquisitor. "Is this sworn testimony the entirety of what you experienced?"
"By an oath to the Mother, yes," replied Sym'An.
"Other stories have reached us in the year since your, ah, experience," said the Inquisitor. "For example, it has been said that you conversed with the object."
"No, sire."
"That you may have also conversed with our Holy Mother."
"No, sire. How could I converse with the Mother when I was on the other side of the world?"
The statement caused a rumble of consternation in the Hall that quite surprised Sym'An. Had he said something wrong?
"Brother Sym'An," said the Inquisitor rather sternly. "Is it not written, 'Happy are those who do not see the Mother and yet believe'?"
"Well, yes, I..."
"And would you deny that you could hear the voice of the Mother from anywhere should she choose to speak to such a lowly being as yourself?"
"No, sire, I would not deny it. It just did not happen."
"And what of the talk that there were various demons and minions of the Son present?"
"No, sire, none of that, unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Unless demons were present in the shape of odd rocks. Is that a possibility?"
The Grand Inquisitor let out a hiss of exasperation and rubbed a spot over his eye. It was the same expression Sym'An had seen many times from his Lord Abbot.
"No Brother Sym'An. It is not. That will be all."
He then muttered something that may or may not have been 'idiot'. Sym'An took his place. The proceedings moved on to testimony from another. It was to be Master Gil'Am, who Sym'An learned was the leader of the Delegation of the Insane.
"Master Gil'Am," began the Grand Inquisitor. "It is our understanding that your delegation has had some time to examine the object and you wish to make a statement of findings."
"Yes, your excellency," said Gil'Am bowing briefly in turn to the Inquisitor, the high ones on the dais, then the rest assembled in the Hall. "Your Holiness, we have spent many days examining and exploring this quite amazing and puzzling object. We believe that it is most definitely a created thing, not a naturally occurring artifact. Further, we believe that it is not of this world."
That caused a murmur of interest in the Hall. The Grand Snuf'Er called for order. The Grand Inquisitor gestured Gil'Am to continue.
"We believe the object was constructed by a superior intelligence and hurled here from another world by a mechanism we do not understand. Perhaps it was an infinitely greater version of the elastic sling, of my design, used by the Church's Holy Army to level dwellings of unbelievers of the Mother. Er, in Her benevolent mercy, of course."
"But Master Gil'Am," the Inquisitor implored, "we know of no other people beyond our world. Is it also not written that the people of this world are the most favored of the Mother? That no life is superior to our own?"
Gil'Am was thoughtfully quiet for a moment. When he continued, he measured his words carefully.
"It may not be life as we understand it." A ripple of unease went through the Hall. "We have discovered that the object is made of many rare elements, some minerals we don't even know. But most astonishing, it does not contain glass."
"Master Gil'Am, please clarify, for I can see bits of glass in the object from here."
"Those are clear crystals, but not glass. They are of a different composition. Now, some among us believe that the makers of the object used very sturdy components of rare metals and substances because of the rigor of travel between worlds."
At that, one of the members of the Delegation of the Insane bobbed up and down in agreement. Gil'Am bowed respectfully to the member and continued, "I disagree."
The bobber stopped and looked at the ground. Gil'Am was now moving toward the membrane draped cube in the center of the Hall.
"I believe that the creators of the object were not life as we know it. I assert that it could be life not even based upon water as we know it."
"Master Gil'Am! This is pure fantasy. We have no evidence that such life does exist or even could exist!"
"But Your Excellency Inquisitor, we do have such evidence," said Gil'Am as he pulled the membrane shroud off of the cube. "Behold!"
Sym'An beheld. So did the rest of the population of the Great Hall. The cube was a clear glass with something embedded within it. There were two sections. The top section was a large, bulbous mass. The bottom section was made up of about a dozen rope like appendages each lined with circular cups. But most startling of all was what was between the sections. Right where the top and bottom met, there were two large orbs - eyes staring back at the crowd through the glass.
There were two places ideal for mining natural lava glass: One was within the crater caused by a sky fire stone; the other is at the sides of a volcano. The Suxtal Caldera was the prized location where both had occurred.
Before time was recorded, the great crater of Suxtal was carved into the crust of the world by a massive sky fire stone. The base of the crater had forced a crack in the world itself that allowed the lava of the underworld to spring forth. The active volcano cone had erupted periodically ever since. When an eruption did occur, the crater would capture the lava like water in a bowl. There it would harden to rock of remarkable clarity.
Within blocks of clear lava glass mined from the Suxtal Caldera could be seen suspended chunks of more opaque rock. Sometimes something else could be seen, odd rock formations that the miners called "lava beasts". It was at one such clear stone trapped lava beasts that the assembled participants in the Grand Inquisition were now looking. Sym'An doubted very much that a random rock formation would possess not one but two (two!) eyes looking back at them.
"Behold," repeated Gil'Am with a broad gesture. "This is not rock. This is or was, a living creature. A creature of lava that swam in the melted rock beneath the crust of the world. We know this because we have freed others of its kind from the lava glass using the heat of the Forge. Though the rock would melt away, these creatures do not liquefy. They soften but remain intact. We have examined the bodies more closely and found that they are made of a membranous material, similar to the bodies of living things in our world but only possible at temperatures that would melt rock."
Now Sym'An did make the Sign of the Halo as did several others in the Hall. Demons of the underworld were real!
"My Lords," continued Gil'Am. "I submit that creatures of a kind with this beast created the artifact and hurled it across vast distances to alight upon our world. These creatures that created the artifact live on a world so hot that seas of lava cover some of its surface. Like us, they likely emerged from these seas to walk on dry land. The land would be a denser rock than ours, composed of heavier metals and crystals such as we find embedded in our rock. Our studies from the Forge show that liquid rock can also become a gas and then return to liquid or solid as it cools. On this most alien world, lava would not only pool on the surface, it would also fall from the sky like rain."
Gil'Am paused to let his words have maximum impact. At first there was silence, but then something unexpected. It began as a snort here and there, but then a stuttering hiss grew to fill the hall.
Laughter.
Even the esteemed occupants of the dais were quivering a little with mirth. It carried on for a few moments. Then the Grand Inquisitor scuttled forward.
"Master Gil'Am," he said, raising two forelegs, effectively quelling the laughter. "A fanciful story, for sure, but I think your description of lava rain pushed it beyond fancy to farce. Where, please tell us, would we find this most awful molten world? I have never heard tell of such a place."
"It orbits the Son!"
Gil'Am's declaration crushed any levity remaining in the room. He had their serious attention again. He was also in deep trouble and tried carefully to explain.
"A year ago, I witnessed a transition while studying the Son with the Great Eye. It was but a speck against the bright face of the Son, but it was definitely a world. It moved in a straight path across the face of the Son, just as we see daughter worlds of the mother move in their orbits across Her holy face."
"Master Gil'Am," said the Grand Inquisitor, casting a look toward the dais. "How could such a complex world exist on such a tiny speck?"
That cut it. He would have to tell the whole story now. It appeared as a speck because of the distance from the observer. His calculations had found that the Son was much farther from the Mother than had been supposed. It wasn't a small fiery world but a massive giant that was perhaps ten times the size of the Mother!
The Hall erupted with cries and curses and accusations of heresy shouted at Gil'Am who stood resolute. When the consternation quelled a bit, he continued. He described his theories to the court just as he had to his mother all those years ago. The theory that little things fall towards bigger, heavier things and that a smaller body would fall around, or orbit, a larger body indefinitely. And if the Son is as massive as calculated, the lava world, which was much larger than our world, was orbiting at a range where its heat would melt rock into great seas of lava. It also followed that there were other worlds, and systems of worlds, orbiting the Son. This included the Mother and her children!
More shouts and commotion. Some stuck legs into aural cavities to keep the offending words out. The Grand Snuf'Er had also heard quite enough. In a stern voice, he called for silence. The Grand Inquisitor moved to say something, but he too was silenced by a gesture from the Grand Snuf'Er.
"Enough!" said the Snuf'Er. "We have heard quite enough from all of you. We shall put a stop to this madness here and now. With the leave of my fellow bishops, I shall proceed with the findings and sentencing of this court."
Sentencing? wondered Brother Sym'An as he watched the assembly on the dais bob in assent.
"We find that the artifact is indeed not of this world. There are no words in scripture that describe in any way its origin or portend its arrival. However, it is a created thing, not a natural object, and it suggests superior intelligence. We therefore find that it could only have come from the Mother Herself, and we must study it further to learn its meaning to us."
There was a murmur of agreement across the Hall. The Grand Snuf'Er was indeed wise.
"While there is no word in scripture pertaining to the object," he continued, "we do know that in the first days our world, as well as the many other worlds in the orbit of the Mother, burned hot under the heat of the Mother and the Son. That our world was covered in a sea of molten lava which the Mother, in her kindness, covered over with dry land and lakes and seas after the Son was cast out."
"It is plausible that a kind of false life could exist in the hot places beneath our feet, from a time before the Mother brought forth real life upon this world. Master Gil'Am has established evidence that these lava beasts are real. They come from a place of great evil and must be viewed as demons in league with the Son, the Prince of Sin."
Some more murmurs in the Hall but not as positive as before. Uneasy.
"However," said the Grand Snuf'Er with a gesture of accusation toward the Asylum Delegation. "We condemn Master Gil'Am for his transparent attempt to link his lava beast evidence to an ancient heresy. His story of a lava world in orbit of the Sun - indeed, that we all orbit the Son - is dangerous and most grievous nonsense."
Positive shouts of approval and rubbing of legs in applause.
"These are sins punishable by death! But due to the protection of the Asylum, I banish you back to that place. May you not contaminate any others with the poison of your insane lies! And to all those present, I invoke silence on pain of death. This matter and all deliberations shall remain here. Thank the Mother that so few have been troubled with the sight of the object."
The Great Snuf'Er appeared to be finished and began to turn away from the assembled. As an afterthought, he turned back for one last item.
"Brother Sym'An," he called. Sym'An stepped forward. "As an example of the extreme need for silence, and in just response to your stated heresies about the Mother on the far side of the world, you shall be put to death. That is all."
What? Wait. What? Two of the courtier guards moved toward Sym'An. They brandished gleaming blades of lava glass. He shrank from them.
"Your Holiness!" came a shout from the back of the Hall. Someone had entered there and was making his way forward. He appeared to be a brother ranger of some type. Everyone stopped, including the Court Guards, much to Sym'An's temporary relief. "Your Holiness. I beg to be heard. I have news that may bear on these proceedings."
"Allow him to speak," said the Grand Snuf'Er with a wave of a leg.
"Your Holiness. Your worships. Another object from the sky has appeared to the people. This one appears to be alive!"
A ripple of astonished chatter washed through the Great Hall. The Grand Snuf'Er bade silence.
"And, sire," continued the ranger.
"Yes. Speak."
"Sire, this one can fly!"
The First Epistle of Brother Sym'An of the Lake Country
To the Community of the Devoted
To the Most Esteemed Lord Abbot of the Brothers of the Devoted, and to my Brothers in Devotion to the Holy Mother, I bring greetings and salutations. May the peace of the Mother be with you all. I also bring a dire warning.
I am well. It has been more than two years since I left our abbey to travel to the Mother City to give testimony regarding the object in the desert. I am sure by now that you have heard of the arrival of the second object from the sky. This arrival was most fortuitous for your humble brother in devotion. The very day that the arrival was announced to the Holy Inquisition, it had been decided to silence all news of strange objects from the sky to end unholy speculations.
The Grand Snuf'Er, in his wisdom, had decided that the object had come from the Mother. But the second object resisted control of the Church. Unlike the first artifact, this visitor was very much alive, and it could hop back into the sky only to alight somewhere else for a short time. One of these visitations was to the Mother City itself. The Grand Snuf'Er therefore decided that news of the visitor, as well as the determination of its origin, would be spread throughout the realm. The people were told to be respectful of the visitor, as it was from the Mother, and not to interfere with its holy and mysterious mission.
When news of the second visitor reached the Great Hall the Most Holy Snuf'Er had just decided to have your humble brother in the Mother's love silenced in the most permanent of fashion. Master Gil'Am, the leader of the Delegation of the Insane from the Asylum, spoke eloquently on my behalf and was able to secure my person from the executioner's blades. Gil'Am argued that sacrificing my life had little meaning now that word of the visitors would spread. Also, he said that the Church would need the insane to continue to examine these objects to help ascertain what their mission was. Why did the Mother send them? He asked that I be assigned as an assistant to Master Gil'Am as he was of increasing age and infirmity.
The Grand Snuf'Er assented to Master Gil'Am's petition with very little deliberation. I think His Holiness had other things on his mind with this new, undefinable flying object. This is how it came to pass that I should become a resident of the Asylum at Ann'As. Please do not despair for me. I believe I have maintained my sanity throughout the time I have been here. It has not been an ordeal, but a rather fascinating journey.
The insane here are many and varied. Some of them make no sense at all, while others are capable of creating great wonders. Their knowledge is immense though often flawed, but it is the very flaws that excite them. Rather than focusing on the true stories of the world, which we all know, they are continually creating new stories and then setting out to prove or disprove their truth. Happy are we who know the essential truths and do not require proofs. Happy are we who have not seen yet believe.
Here is an example of the knowledge of the insane. Shortly after we arrived at the Asylum, Master Gil'Am told me that it was not magic or divine intervention that allowed the new visitor to leave the ground. He had worked out how to do it long ago. He showed me a drawing that he had made on a membrane. It showed a small structure that a person would fit under a pair of rotating blades. The blades were made of stretched and dried membrane. A person would stand in the structure and working a series of cranks and pulleys would cause the blades to spin. Gil'Am said he had never built the contraption and was dubious if the blades would produce enough "lift" for it to work. But the new visitor proved that the concept was sound. It has four sets of spinning blades - one set at each corner of its oblong body.
Unlike the first visitor, which was round and sat on the ground in a kind of bowl, this one had an underside structure of protuberances that held it above the ground. There were eyewitness reports that when it first arrived, it too came down from the sky slowly, suspended under an inverted membrane bowl and tethers much as I had seen of the first visitor. But before it reached the ground, the flying visitor separated from the descending object and flew free. Thus began the odyssey of the visitor. Every day it would fly to new locations, and every night it rested. When on the ground, the object was very much alive with moving protuberances. One protuberance would dig into the ground beneath the object.
On one particularly auspicious day, the visitor came to rest on the very hillock where your humble brother first caught sight of the capital city. It rested there for a full day and night. One could only imagine what it was doing, though I can't help feeling that it was taking in the view of the sparkling city as I had done years ago. By the second day, a large crowd of the curious had gathered around the object, though they were kept at a safe distance by the Church Police. Some ran in fear the next morning when the object again ascended. It did not come back to the city. I wonder if it was as frightened by the crowds as they were frightened of this strange artifact.
Master Gil'Am, indeed all the residents of the Asylum, have been very busy throughout this time. During the inquisition Master Gil'Am had spun a fanciful tale that the objects came not from the Mother but from a far-off world that was close to the Son, so close in fact that liquid rock flowed on its surface and collected in vast seas. Despite the admonishment of His Holiness himself, Gil'Am continued in his belief of this heresy. He noted, for example, that those who were allowed to examine the second object found that it radiated tremendous heat, as if there was a tiny forge within. This he offered as proof that the object came from a place where temperatures were much hotter than our world.
The primary preoccupation of Master Gil'Am of late has not been the objects. Instead, he has become obsessed with learning more of the creatures that live in the infernos far beneath the surface of our world. Why, for example, do they need two eyes when the underworld is by nature shielded from light? Are there light sources down there?
There is no heresy here. The Grand Snuf'Er did allow for these things to actually exist. However, Gil'Am maintains his belief that there is a connection between the pseudo-life down there and life on his fancied world.
Even as I write these words, separated by time and distance from all of you, I can feel the impatient eye of the Abbot upon me. What about this dire warning? Get on with it!
Very well. The warning is not from me but from Master Gil'Am, though I have seen enough to understand. During these days, I have seen the Master grow more fretful and concerned. His sadness only deepened when the third visitor appeared. This one did not fly but swam! On the Arb'Us sea, it had stationed itself near the Mother City, very much as the second object had done.
I asked Master Gil'Am why he was so troubled. He said that he has been developing a thought about what the objects are and why they have been sent here. The inhabitants of his lava world built these objects to probe our world. As we have examined them, they have been examining us. How they can report back to their home he does not know, but he does not doubt it has been happening.
"Sym'An," he said to me, "I believe that they are like us in one respect."
"In what way is that?" I asked the Master.
"Insatiable curiosity," said Gil'Am. "I also believe that if they can hurl these objects across the wide void between our worlds, it is only a matter of time before they pay us a visit in person. An object will come, and it will contain... them! They are a life so alien from ours, from a place so incredibly hot, that I fear for our people and our world."
This is the threat that consumes Master Gil'Am. Here, in his words, is the warning that he has asked us all to communicate: "Tell the world. Tell this to everybody, wherever they are. The lava beasts are coming! Watch the skies everywhere. Keep looking. Keep watching the skies."
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High in the Motherless orange sky, a strange object hung on lines from a floating overturned bowl. The lines looked a bit like spinners' ropes but even more delicate. The bowl appeared to be made of a membrane. Slowly descending, the object dropped behind a low ridge, trailing that membranous cup. Sym'An scuttled out of his small hermitage hovel, cut into the side of a dune, and made for the landing site as fast as his ten legs could carry him.
It was the 100th day of Sym'An's wilderness fast among endless dunes and strewn rocks of an ancient seabed. How he wished the seabed was wet with life water. The fast had been long, and Sym'An was very thirsty. The sky was Motherless as the Holy Mother was not visible on this side of the world. There was only the bright dot of the Son. Contemplating the empty sky was a practice for many a thirsty aspiring novice of the Order of the Devoted.
Now there was this thing. This wonder. Sym'An had once witnessed a sky fire stone. That object had shone bright with streaking fire and crashed into the ground with a thunderous crack and a flash brighter than a dozen Sons. Some had been blinded by it. Later, Sym'An had joined an expedition to collect lava glass and rare ores at the crater. Where that object had been all noise and violence, this object was silent and serene in its descent. At this speed, it would not crash into the surface but touch the ground as gently as Sym'An would if he were to jump off a small boulder.
Even at a fast run, it took most of the day for Sym'An to reach the object. He paused only once, briefly, at the edge of the ridge to see if it was still there. He feared that it might have scuttled away. But the object was motionless among the rocks. A short distance away was the cup that had retarded the descent. It definitely was a membrane of sorts because now it was collapsed flat on the ground. Sym'An slowed his approach as he drew near. He made the Sign of the Halo several times and whispered a careful prayer of benediction in the name of the Mother. He did not want to die. The object did not move.
Its body was round, not unlike a person, but it was fully twice the size of Sym'An. It was also not smooth like a person. It had crimped edges all around its outside and many small appendages coming out near its base. The appendages were too small to be legs (which Sym'An was half expecting to suddenly sprout from the object's body.) The lower part of the body was a round, wide dish, slightly wider than the upper part. It had nestled neatly into the dust when it hit the surface. With tender care, Sym'An circled the object, noting its many odd protuberances. He followed the rope lines over to the cup, flat and motionless now. Back toward the object, Sym'An at first whispered and then shouted a range of prayers of protection and exorcism and then, finally, a meek "Hello?"
Nothing. The object did not move or make a sound. Sym'An then did something that would probably not be in a manual for contact with a possible celestial visitor. He picked up one of the many rocks lying about and threw it at the thing. The rock bounced off the object, making an odd sound, not the crack of one rock hitting another nor the dull thud of a hard object hitting a softer, water-filled object like a person. The sound was higher pitch, a clang. It had a hollowness to it. It was not filled with water like a living thing. Sym'An resolved to touch it. He reached out toward one of the tiny appendages.
There was a flash of light. A jolt of pain and then blackness. Sym'An would have felt incredibly stupid if he could have felt anything at all.
From the darkness, he came into the light of dawn in the northern lake country. Sym'An was standing on a small rise, looking down toward the chain of lakes he called home. To the left were the dune lands. The great dunes came from the southern horizon and marched all the way to the water's edge. On the right, there were the rugged hills of the Maw'Rah Range. These were small lakes connected by shallow, meandering streams. They shimmered in the orange light of the dawn sky and the bright spot of the rising Son.
The Mother was there in the sky, huge in Her terrible beauty. Her halo was at an angle with its tip below the horizon. There She would always be. 'Constant as the Mother' was the saying. This side of the world always faced the Mother in both day and night, and the false night when the Son would pass behind Her. On this morning Sym'An could just make out one of the other child-worlds, the one they called Cel'As, as she passed across the glorious face of the Mother.
In the beginning, the Mother was alone in the void. She had commanded the tiny lights of the sky into being and the child-worlds into her orbit. Of all these children, there was one she loved more than all the others, the Son. But the Son grew vain and felt he was greater than even the Mother. His growing light threatened to scorch the other worlds. The Mother cast him out to a distant exile, where he remains a bright point of light. She then fashioned Her great halo to show that she was the one God. There is no other.
"Blessed be the Mother," said Sym'An as he made the Sign of the Halo.
As if in answer to his prayer, a gentle welcoming breeze came up from the lakes and filled his vesicles with a fresh scent of nutrient-rich water. Sym'An felt at peace and filled with joy at being home. He realized he was very thirsty. He made his way down the rise to the refreshing waters below. One of his legs hurt very much.
Sym'An awoke.
Gone were the lakes and the mountains. Gone too was the Mother from the sky. He was back on the dry seabed near the object that had come from the sky. It was morning. Sym'An had been unconscious through the night. At least one night. Perhaps more. He was very thirsty. His leg hurt.
The leg was burned, but Sym'An counted himself lucky that he could feel the pain. A dune fire jolt, which he assumed this was akin to, could destroy limbs and even cause a death burn. He rose up on his legs and gingerly put weight on the damaged limb. It held. The object was motionless as ever.
"What are you?" asked Sym'An, not expecting an answer. "Who are you?"
The object remained still. Sym'An prayed for guidance. He asked the Mother what he should do next. Where did this thing come from? There were tales in his youth, whispered in the night, of life on the other worlds orbiting the Mother. Could the thing have been sent by one of them? Perhaps it was one of them, a living thing unlike anything on his world. But the Church forbade such stories. There was only one World and one people blessed with life by the Mother.
"Mother. I am but your most humble servant. Tell me what I am to do. Should I go back to my hermit hole for the remaining days of my fast? Or should I return to my abbey and report what I have seen?"
Sym'An waited for a long time. There was no obvious response from the Mother. She was characteristically silent as She was to all supplicants except, perhaps, the Grand High Snuf'Er of the Cathedral of Ann'As, first among the children, he who had the ear of the Mother. (But even Sym'An, whose faith was deep, secretly doubted that the High Priest ever heard anything.)
In the end, Sym'An's mind was decided not by divine intervention but by the barking innards of his own body. The sacred fast was supposed to be spent in a state of contemplative stillness, not running around the wasteland as Sym'An had done. Exertion equaled lost water. Then there was the injury he had sustained to his leg. If he were to return to his hovel for the remaining 200 days of his fast, the Ranger retrieval party would likely find only a husk as hollow as the object before him now. Sym'An chose to live, though he told himself he had chosen to bring word of this find to the authorities.
"Mother, your humble servant thanks you," said Sym'An, as if it was all Her idea. Who knew? Perhaps it was. He made the Sign of the Halo and set off for the abbey.
Gil'Am was a curious and thoughtful child who had an annoying habit of throwing rocks.
Truth be told, the annoying habit was hurling rocks with mechanical help. The ten-legged people of the world had many talents, but velocity was not one of them. To lift a tiny pebble with two legs and attempt to throw the rock was rewarded with a very short flight. The legs just were not made to move that fast. The Novice Sym'An's heaving a small rock toward the object from the sky was the very limit of a person's rock throwing capability.
Gil'Am spent a lot of time off pondering the sky and the ground, as well as the Mother and Her child-worlds, and the round rocks that littered the dry seabed where his people lived. Unlike most people, who went about their work and worship in peace, Gil'Am seemed perpetually obsessed with strange, some would say crazy, questions.
Why is it that a dropped stone falls down and not up? If everything falls down, why does the Mother stay in the sky? Why does she not fall onto us and we onto her?
Gil'Am's mother was understandably concerned.
Gil'Am eventually solved his problem using rock throwing. One day, he observed some builders attempting to raise a rock into place using spinners' line and a membranous cradle. As they lifted the rock, the lines stretched and then, quite unexpectedly, one line broke free with a loud snap. The rock stayed on the ground, but the suddenly freed line moved with incredible force and velocity.
That gave Gil'Am an idea.
He gathered some particularly stretchy spinner's line and a membrane satchel bag that his mother used sometimes. Near the village, he found two pinnacle rocks that were several times his height and just the right distance apart. Gil'Am attached four spinner's lines to the rocks and the other ends to the satchel. He then put a small round rock into the satchel and carried the thing away from the pinnacle stones. The spinners' lines grew more taught with every step. When the lines were stretched as far as possible, Gil'Am let go. With a snap, the satchel was carried back to the pinnacle stones at a blurring speed and the stone flew free. Gil'Am leaped with excitement, though his slow legs did not launch him far. He spent the days that followed gathering stones of various size and weight and launching them with his sling thing. He would carefully observe the flight and the distance.
From these observations, Gil'Am developed a theory.
There was a force in the world by which a large thing attracted a small thing. This force is what made things heavy. The larger and more dense the rock the more force it drew. When thrown, the rock would fly free for a time, but eventually the force of the world would overcome the force of the throw and it would arc down to the ground. This theory explained why things fell down but not why the Mother and the children of the Mother didn't fall into each other. Or did it? This question required more thought and a further experiment. But unlike his rock hurling experiments, this one was conducted entirely within young Gil'Am's mind.
Everybody knew that the world was round. Gil'Am imagined a sling so powerful that when he loosed his rock, it would travel an enormous distance over the horizon before the inevitable force of the world dragged it down. What if the curve of the fall was the same as the curve of the world? Would it not fall on the world but around it? If the curve was just right, it would fall around, or orbit, the world forever.
Gil'Am never got to share the news with anybody but his mother. One day, when returning from one of his rock-throwing experiments, he was met at home by his mother and two weapon-bearing people. By their spinner garb, he recognized them as Church Police.
"Gil'Am, you need to talk with these people," said Mother. "There have been complaints."
Through an unfortunate oversight on his part, Gil'Am's sling apparatus was pointed toward the village. Nobody had been hurt, but the villagers were quite distressed that Mad Gil'Am was apparently bringing rocks down from the sky onto their homes. The Church Police appeared not to be too bothered by Gil'Am's error. They were far more interested in why he was throwing rocks. They spoke with him for a long while. Gil'Am's mother fretted with her legs a short distance away, her eye glazed over with a tear. Eventually, they sent Gil'Am off and turned to her to confirm her worst fear.
"Gil'Am will be coming with us, ma'am. I'm afraid your son is quite mad."
She quivered with emotion, her eye dripping a full tear now. The police were consoling.
"Don't be sad, ma'am. He's coming with us to the Asylum. He will be happy there. There he will be with others like him, and he will indulge his delusions, these many questions of his. We are not beasts, ma'am. The Church has found that, carefully cared for, those with conditions like Gil'Am's can lead happy lives while being of some use. For example, the engine that Gil'Am constructed for hurling rocks could have military applications. We will take that with us as well."
The other Church Police person bounced up and down in vigorous agreement.
Sym'An trembled before the Lord Abbot.
Witnessing creatures of unknown origin falling from the sky was somewhat disconcerting, but the Abbot was truly terrifying. Abbot Bili'Um was nearly twice Sym'An's size and decked out in the full regalia of the office, including a halo of polished lava glass. Only abbots, bishops, and other high officials could wear one. The sight of it made Sym'An secrete a little water, amazing given he was still quite thirsty from his desert fast.
"So," began the Abbot. "You have abandoned your hermitage. Are you aware of the penalty for such a brazen act?"
"I am sure it is severe, Lord Abbot," said Sym'An cowering and losing a bit more water.
"Severe?" rumbled the Abbot. "Simpleton, you do not know! Torture is not unheard of. Legs have been lost. And those were lucky ones. Expulsion to the desert is an option. Would you like that, Brother Sym'An?"
Sym'An gestured negatively. The Abbot seemed small and farther away now, as at the end of a long passage. Sym'An's mind wandered to thoughts of torture and lost legs. He thought of an elderly monk, Brother Met'Ak the Odd Legged, and wondered if he -
"Sym'An!"
"Sire!" The Abbot was back larger than ever.
"Why are you here? Why have you broken the sacred fast?"
"Because..." Sym'An was swaying now. His eye squeezed shut.
"Yesss?"
"Because of..."
"Talk, idiot!"
"Because of the thing that came from the sky!"
"Ah, progress," said the Abbot. "So this thing you saw in the - wait, what?" He blinked his eye. "Did you mean the thing you saw in the sky?"
"Yes, I saw the thing in the sky."
"OK, then."
"But then it came down from the sky and alighted upon the land."
Something was telling Bili'Um that this would not be just another hallucinating novice story.
"You mean to say that you witnessed an object from the sky crash onto the surface."
"It did not crash, sire. It alighted. It was not like a sky fire stone."
Bili'Um took a moment to ponder that. The young one appeared to have witnessed something extraordinary.
"Did you see this object up close?"
"Yes, Lord Abbot. It was as big as you, but without the legs, and the halo, of course. There were also three spinners lines and a membrane cup that came down with it."
"How close did you get to it?"
"Very. I tried to speak to it. I don't think it was a living thing. It sounded hollow, like the carapace of a dead person who has been left in the desert for a long time. At least that is what it seemed when I threw the rock at it."
"You what? You were confronted by some unknown massive monstrosity from the sky -"
"Your size, sire. Not monstrous."
"What!"
Sym'An cowered a bit more, let go of some more water and began to shake.
"You threw a rock at it."
"Yes."
"And you are sure it was not alive."
"Mostly, sire."
"Mostly?"
"Well, it did this to me," he held up his burn-damaged leg, "when I tried to touch it."
"You tried to - never mind that. It looks like a dune fire burn. Do you think dunes are alive?"
"I should think not, sire. Unless. You think, er, are they?"
"Enough!" thundered the Abbot. "You are an idiot!"
"Indeed, I am, sire"
"You are a simpleton."
"I am nothing, little more than dirt."
"Tell me why I should not have you punished. Why should you keep all your legs? Tell me now!"
"Murg wah wah," murmured Sym'An before he again dropped from the world of consciousness into the black.
The Abbot regarded his unconscious novice for a few moments, pondering what had been revealed and to make sure that no more statements beyond "Murg wah wah" would be forthcoming. He called for the chamberlain.
"Sire?"
"Have this one taken to the infirmary for a rest and a nutrient bath. When he has recovered, inform him that he will not be tortured."
"Yes, sire."
"Tell him his penance will be to complete the fast somewhere else. Find him a suitable hermit hole away from where he was."
"Sire."
"And have Brother Ranger report to me at once. I have a job for his team."
"Sire?"
"This is troubling business, Tin'Us. We will need a proper investigation. Mother City will need to be notified."
"A pity, sire."
The Church Police had not lied.
The Grand Asylum was everything they had said and more. Young Gil'Am was well treated and allowed to indulge his curiosity. He consorted with other inmates and found them stimulating. Some were even more clever than he was. Others truly were insane. The Church really couldn't tell them all apart. It was interested mainly in ideas that were useful. After careful vetting, only these ideas were allowed out of the Asylum.
The Grand Asylum was created shortly after the wonder of the modern age. They called it the Forge. It made sense, given that their anatomy featured a single enormous eye, that optics was one of the first types of science explored by the people. Soon they were cutting and polishing great pieces of lava glass, mined from the bottom of the Suxtal Caldera, into great lenses. It was discovered that the light, and heat, from a source like the Son could be collected and focused on an intense point. So intense was this point of heat that it could melt base rock.
The great Forge ushered in the third age of the people - the age of glass. Long had the people toiled to live, first in sand hovels cut into dunes, then rudimentary dwellings of cut stone. The Forge made possible glass temples and sparkling cities. More importantly, the Forge made possible the creation of terrible weapons that the armies of the Church used to obliterate heretics and unbelievers.
Unfortunately, many of the heretical leaders were members of the same groups of thinkers that created the Forge. One of the greatest heresies, Son worship, began with them. This fixation on the power of the Son to heat and to brighten led to a belief that the Son was greater than the Mother. This heresy was more popular in the nether regions of the world, where the Son rose and set every day, but the Mother was not visible in their sky.
There were many crusades, and much life's water was spilled in the name of religious purity. At one point, almost all the seekers had been silenced, many permanently. But then one Grand Snuf'Er of the Church of the Mother, Garl'Ap the Decent, saved the last of the seekers with his idea of the Asylum. Where the simple stout regular folk saw madness, the more clever of those in power saw potential. Here the mad could be cared for, and exploited, with their more troubling ideas carefully sealed away from the world.
Over many years, Gil'Am eventually achieved the title of Master. The Masters of the Asylum were the most accomplished. Many had achieved true wonders. One of the first Masters, Mag'Num the Meticulous, had discovered many distinct forms of matter within the rocks and dust of the World. He called these metals, minerals, salts, and gases "elements" and found many interesting reactions when these were isolated and combined. Some combinations produced heat and even light to rival the Forge.
There were many others among the storied Masters. Amb'Ros the Unfortunate filled a large membrane bag with gaseous elements captured from the Forge. Hanging beneath the bag and tethered to the ground with a very long spinners line, Amb'Ros floated high into the sky. His report upon return was astounding. High above the clouds, the sky is not orange but blue, said Amb'Ros, and one can see many more points of light than visible from the ground.
Amb'Ros was unable to complete another flight. His vehicle attracted a bolt of dune fire and exploded with a spectacular flame. He was indeed unfortunate.
Of all Gil'Am's experiences in the Asylum the greatest was being given time to use the Great Eye. Through this instrument, made of carefully set lenses of lava glass, Gil'Am could peer into the mysteries of the heavens. Through the Great Eye he had made many discoveries. He had mapped the surfaces of other child-worlds of the Mother. On the Mother Herself he had seen bands of clouds and storms and, most astonishing, he had discovered that the great halo was not solid circles but bands of floating rocks and glittering sand that were perfectly aligned in their orbit of the Mother.
Gil'Am's curiosity took him further as he cast his eye into the void. He began a study of the most distant object discernible with the Great Eye, the Son. And so it came to pass that on the same day that Sym'An the Novice was having his encounter with the object from the sky, Gil'Am made a most remarkable discovery. Peering at a magnified projection of the Son, Gil'Am saw a tiny speck crossing the fiery disk. The dot moved across the face of the Son in a straight line.
On closer inspection, the tiny dot was a cluster of two. One dot was larger than the other. But both were proceeding together. It was a transition of a world, or worlds, not unlike when daughter worlds of the Mother can be seen transiting across Her face. The dot was a world orbiting the Son and the smaller dot was orbiting the bigger dot.
Gil'Am blinked his eye. Of all the heretical thoughts he had ever had, the biggest heresy of all came to him just then.
Brother Sym'An was entirely too in awe of the Mother City to realize his life was in danger.
The city shone in the morning light. From a rise near the city gates, he could see the whole metropolis spread out between him and the great sea. The cityscape was dominated by the Temple of the Mother. At the other end of the city, almost as large as the Temple, was the Dome of the Forge. Then there was the Sea of Arb'Us, the largest body of water in the world, so much larger than the lakes of Sym'An's youth.
Sym'An's weary caravan had camped there for the night to enter the city in the morning light. His awe remained in full force as the caravan traversed the teeming city. There were people everywhere, many more than he had ever seen in one place. More than the village of his birth, and certainly more than anyone would see in the central desert. Everywhere he looked, there was color and movement. The smells that filled his vesicles were overwhelming, both fragrant and repugnant. The metropolitan glitter easily hid the dirt and squalor that such places attract.
Nearly a year, 700 days, had passed since Sym'An's encounter with the strange object in the desert. The spring rains had come to that parched land, darkening the floor of the ancient seabed and filling the cisterns of its far-flung communities, such as the Abbey of the Devoted. Sym'An had become practiced at laying low so as not to incur the further wrath of the Abbot. He had quietly finished his desert fast and returned to the Abbey to take his final vows. He spoke little and kept to himself, but even in his self-imposed solitude, he was not impervious to the whispers of his fellow monks.
According to these whispers, Brother Ranger and his team had found the object much as Sym'An had described it. Beyond this, the rumors and conjecture swirled. Some said that the Mother had spoken directly to the young novice. Others said demons and other evil minions of the Son had been spotted in the vicinity and these surely had corrupted Sym'An.
As distressing as these stories were, Sym'An was steadfast in his silence. Choosing silence was refusing to give such stories credence. But refusing to engage also meant they were not actively refuted. Then the day came when Sym'An was again called before the Lord Abbot.
"You are to be sent to the Mother City," the Abbot stated with no fanfare. "You are to appear before an inquisition into this object of yours, as you were the only one to witness its arrival."
"It is not mine, sire."
"What?"
"It is not my object."
A weary wave. "Yes, yes. Just tell them what you saw as you told me. No embellishments. No deities or demons. Understood?"
"Yes, sire. Ah, should I have seen them?"
"What?"
"Deities or demons? I don't know what they would look like."
"Just get out."
"Yes, sire."
The caravan guide wasted no time in depositing Sym'An at the entrance to the Grand Temple of the Mother.
"There you go, young brother," he said. "May the Mother keep you safe."
It was an odd benediction, thought Sym'An. Where would a devotee of the Mother be safer than within the Church itself? In his own joy, Sym'An also failed to notice the guide's sadness. For the guide had seen many a traveler to the gates of the church, but few had ever emerged.
Sym'An was met by a delegation of courtiers who wasted no time taking him to a nutrient bath, followed by some grooming and dressing. They spoke little, only to tell him that his testimony was urgently required.
The main hall of the Grand Temple of the Mother was as spectacular as he had imagined. Much of it was built from blocks of glass, and the light of the Son and the Mother sparkled through. Through a great circular eyeglass in the ceiling, the Mother could be seen in her ageless serenity. On a dais at the front of the hall sat the Grand Snuf'Er himself, flanked by senior bishops of the Church. Their halos of office also glittered.
To the left of the dais was the chief interrogator, the Grand Inquisitor himself. To the right was a motley collection of unkempt individuals. It took Sym'An's breath away to realize that these were residents of the Asylum. He had heard that they may be here. He resisted a sudden urge to bless himself with the Sign of the Halo and could only hope that their madness did not spread from proximity.
In the center of the hall, in front of the dais, was the object that Sym'An had seen a year earlier. It had been altered. Parts of its surface had been pried open and its inner parts were exposed. There was also another artifact before the assembled clergy. Covered in an opaque membrane blanket, it appeared to be a large block of some sort.
The proceedings were quickly convened. Sym'An was called forth to give his testimony by the Grand Inquisitor. He trembled as he came forward under the eyes of so much prominence. But he gave his account, as the Abbot had ordered, just as he remembered it. No embellishments. He left out the dream of home.
"In the morning, I regained consciousness and, after some prayer to the Mother, decided I should return to the abbey," Sym'An concluded. He began to step away but was stopped by a gesture from the Grand Inquisitor. Apparently, there were further questions.
"Brother Sym'An," said the Inquisitor. "Is this sworn testimony the entirety of what you experienced?"
"By an oath to the Mother, yes," replied Sym'An.
"Other stories have reached us in the year since your, ah, experience," said the Inquisitor. "For example, it has been said that you conversed with the object."
"No, sire."
"That you may have also conversed with our Holy Mother."
"No, sire. How could I converse with the Mother when I was on the other side of the world?"
The statement caused a rumble of consternation in the Hall that quite surprised Sym'An. Had he said something wrong?
"Brother Sym'An," said the Inquisitor rather sternly. "Is it not written, 'Happy are those who do not see the Mother and yet believe'?"
"Well, yes, I..."
"And would you deny that you could hear the voice of the Mother from anywhere should she choose to speak to such a lowly being as yourself?"
"No, sire, I would not deny it. It just did not happen."
"And what of the talk that there were various demons and minions of the Son present?"
"No, sire, none of that, unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Unless demons were present in the shape of odd rocks. Is that a possibility?"
The Grand Inquisitor let out a hiss of exasperation and rubbed a spot over his eye. It was the same expression Sym'An had seen many times from his Lord Abbot.
"No Brother Sym'An. It is not. That will be all."
He then muttered something that may or may not have been 'idiot'. Sym'An took his place. The proceedings moved on to testimony from another. It was to be Master Gil'Am, who Sym'An learned was the leader of the Delegation of the Insane.
"Master Gil'Am," began the Grand Inquisitor. "It is our understanding that your delegation has had some time to examine the object and you wish to make a statement of findings."
"Yes, your excellency," said Gil'Am bowing briefly in turn to the Inquisitor, the high ones on the dais, then the rest assembled in the Hall. "Your Holiness, we have spent many days examining and exploring this quite amazing and puzzling object. We believe that it is most definitely a created thing, not a naturally occurring artifact. Further, we believe that it is not of this world."
That caused a murmur of interest in the Hall. The Grand Snuf'Er called for order. The Grand Inquisitor gestured Gil'Am to continue.
"We believe the object was constructed by a superior intelligence and hurled here from another world by a mechanism we do not understand. Perhaps it was an infinitely greater version of the elastic sling, of my design, used by the Church's Holy Army to level dwellings of unbelievers of the Mother. Er, in Her benevolent mercy, of course."
"But Master Gil'Am," the Inquisitor implored, "we know of no other people beyond our world. Is it also not written that the people of this world are the most favored of the Mother? That no life is superior to our own?"
Gil'Am was thoughtfully quiet for a moment. When he continued, he measured his words carefully.
"It may not be life as we understand it." A ripple of unease went through the Hall. "We have discovered that the object is made of many rare elements, some minerals we don't even know. But most astonishing, it does not contain glass."
"Master Gil'Am, please clarify, for I can see bits of glass in the object from here."
"Those are clear crystals, but not glass. They are of a different composition. Now, some among us believe that the makers of the object used very sturdy components of rare metals and substances because of the rigor of travel between worlds."
At that, one of the members of the Delegation of the Insane bobbed up and down in agreement. Gil'Am bowed respectfully to the member and continued, "I disagree."
The bobber stopped and looked at the ground. Gil'Am was now moving toward the membrane draped cube in the center of the Hall.
"I believe that the creators of the object were not life as we know it. I assert that it could be life not even based upon water as we know it."
"Master Gil'Am! This is pure fantasy. We have no evidence that such life does exist or even could exist!"
"But Your Excellency Inquisitor, we do have such evidence," said Gil'Am as he pulled the membrane shroud off of the cube. "Behold!"
Sym'An beheld. So did the rest of the population of the Great Hall. The cube was a clear glass with something embedded within it. There were two sections. The top section was a large, bulbous mass. The bottom section was made up of about a dozen rope like appendages each lined with circular cups. But most startling of all was what was between the sections. Right where the top and bottom met, there were two large orbs - eyes staring back at the crowd through the glass.
There were two places ideal for mining natural lava glass: One was within the crater caused by a sky fire stone; the other is at the sides of a volcano. The Suxtal Caldera was the prized location where both had occurred.
Before time was recorded, the great crater of Suxtal was carved into the crust of the world by a massive sky fire stone. The base of the crater had forced a crack in the world itself that allowed the lava of the underworld to spring forth. The active volcano cone had erupted periodically ever since. When an eruption did occur, the crater would capture the lava like water in a bowl. There it would harden to rock of remarkable clarity.
Within blocks of clear lava glass mined from the Suxtal Caldera could be seen suspended chunks of more opaque rock. Sometimes something else could be seen, odd rock formations that the miners called "lava beasts". It was at one such clear stone trapped lava beasts that the assembled participants in the Grand Inquisition were now looking. Sym'An doubted very much that a random rock formation would possess not one but two (two!) eyes looking back at them.
"Behold," repeated Gil'Am with a broad gesture. "This is not rock. This is or was, a living creature. A creature of lava that swam in the melted rock beneath the crust of the world. We know this because we have freed others of its kind from the lava glass using the heat of the Forge. Though the rock would melt away, these creatures do not liquefy. They soften but remain intact. We have examined the bodies more closely and found that they are made of a membranous material, similar to the bodies of living things in our world but only possible at temperatures that would melt rock."
Now Sym'An did make the Sign of the Halo as did several others in the Hall. Demons of the underworld were real!
"My Lords," continued Gil'Am. "I submit that creatures of a kind with this beast created the artifact and hurled it across vast distances to alight upon our world. These creatures that created the artifact live on a world so hot that seas of lava cover some of its surface. Like us, they likely emerged from these seas to walk on dry land. The land would be a denser rock than ours, composed of heavier metals and crystals such as we find embedded in our rock. Our studies from the Forge show that liquid rock can also become a gas and then return to liquid or solid as it cools. On this most alien world, lava would not only pool on the surface, it would also fall from the sky like rain."
Gil'Am paused to let his words have maximum impact. At first there was silence, but then something unexpected. It began as a snort here and there, but then a stuttering hiss grew to fill the hall.
Laughter.
Even the esteemed occupants of the dais were quivering a little with mirth. It carried on for a few moments. Then the Grand Inquisitor scuttled forward.
"Master Gil'Am," he said, raising two forelegs, effectively quelling the laughter. "A fanciful story, for sure, but I think your description of lava rain pushed it beyond fancy to farce. Where, please tell us, would we find this most awful molten world? I have never heard tell of such a place."
"It orbits the Son!"
Gil'Am's declaration crushed any levity remaining in the room. He had their serious attention again. He was also in deep trouble and tried carefully to explain.
"A year ago, I witnessed a transition while studying the Son with the Great Eye. It was but a speck against the bright face of the Son, but it was definitely a world. It moved in a straight path across the face of the Son, just as we see daughter worlds of the mother move in their orbits across Her holy face."
"Master Gil'Am," said the Grand Inquisitor, casting a look toward the dais. "How could such a complex world exist on such a tiny speck?"
That cut it. He would have to tell the whole story now. It appeared as a speck because of the distance from the observer. His calculations had found that the Son was much farther from the Mother than had been supposed. It wasn't a small fiery world but a massive giant that was perhaps ten times the size of the Mother!
The Hall erupted with cries and curses and accusations of heresy shouted at Gil'Am who stood resolute. When the consternation quelled a bit, he continued. He described his theories to the court just as he had to his mother all those years ago. The theory that little things fall towards bigger, heavier things and that a smaller body would fall around, or orbit, a larger body indefinitely. And if the Son is as massive as calculated, the lava world, which was much larger than our world, was orbiting at a range where its heat would melt rock into great seas of lava. It also followed that there were other worlds, and systems of worlds, orbiting the Son. This included the Mother and her children!
More shouts and commotion. Some stuck legs into aural cavities to keep the offending words out. The Grand Snuf'Er had also heard quite enough. In a stern voice, he called for silence. The Grand Inquisitor moved to say something, but he too was silenced by a gesture from the Grand Snuf'Er.
"Enough!" said the Snuf'Er. "We have heard quite enough from all of you. We shall put a stop to this madness here and now. With the leave of my fellow bishops, I shall proceed with the findings and sentencing of this court."
Sentencing? wondered Brother Sym'An as he watched the assembly on the dais bob in assent.
"We find that the artifact is indeed not of this world. There are no words in scripture that describe in any way its origin or portend its arrival. However, it is a created thing, not a natural object, and it suggests superior intelligence. We therefore find that it could only have come from the Mother Herself, and we must study it further to learn its meaning to us."
There was a murmur of agreement across the Hall. The Grand Snuf'Er was indeed wise.
"While there is no word in scripture pertaining to the object," he continued, "we do know that in the first days our world, as well as the many other worlds in the orbit of the Mother, burned hot under the heat of the Mother and the Son. That our world was covered in a sea of molten lava which the Mother, in her kindness, covered over with dry land and lakes and seas after the Son was cast out."
"It is plausible that a kind of false life could exist in the hot places beneath our feet, from a time before the Mother brought forth real life upon this world. Master Gil'Am has established evidence that these lava beasts are real. They come from a place of great evil and must be viewed as demons in league with the Son, the Prince of Sin."
Some more murmurs in the Hall but not as positive as before. Uneasy.
"However," said the Grand Snuf'Er with a gesture of accusation toward the Asylum Delegation. "We condemn Master Gil'Am for his transparent attempt to link his lava beast evidence to an ancient heresy. His story of a lava world in orbit of the Sun - indeed, that we all orbit the Son - is dangerous and most grievous nonsense."
Positive shouts of approval and rubbing of legs in applause.
"These are sins punishable by death! But due to the protection of the Asylum, I banish you back to that place. May you not contaminate any others with the poison of your insane lies! And to all those present, I invoke silence on pain of death. This matter and all deliberations shall remain here. Thank the Mother that so few have been troubled with the sight of the object."
The Great Snuf'Er appeared to be finished and began to turn away from the assembled. As an afterthought, he turned back for one last item.
"Brother Sym'An," he called. Sym'An stepped forward. "As an example of the extreme need for silence, and in just response to your stated heresies about the Mother on the far side of the world, you shall be put to death. That is all."
What? Wait. What? Two of the courtier guards moved toward Sym'An. They brandished gleaming blades of lava glass. He shrank from them.
"Your Holiness!" came a shout from the back of the Hall. Someone had entered there and was making his way forward. He appeared to be a brother ranger of some type. Everyone stopped, including the Court Guards, much to Sym'An's temporary relief. "Your Holiness. I beg to be heard. I have news that may bear on these proceedings."
"Allow him to speak," said the Grand Snuf'Er with a wave of a leg.
"Your Holiness. Your worships. Another object from the sky has appeared to the people. This one appears to be alive!"
A ripple of astonished chatter washed through the Great Hall. The Grand Snuf'Er bade silence.
"And, sire," continued the ranger.
"Yes. Speak."
"Sire, this one can fly!"
The First Epistle of Brother Sym'An of the Lake Country
To the Community of the Devoted
To the Most Esteemed Lord Abbot of the Brothers of the Devoted, and to my Brothers in Devotion to the Holy Mother, I bring greetings and salutations. May the peace of the Mother be with you all. I also bring a dire warning.
I am well. It has been more than two years since I left our abbey to travel to the Mother City to give testimony regarding the object in the desert. I am sure by now that you have heard of the arrival of the second object from the sky. This arrival was most fortuitous for your humble brother in devotion. The very day that the arrival was announced to the Holy Inquisition, it had been decided to silence all news of strange objects from the sky to end unholy speculations.
The Grand Snuf'Er, in his wisdom, had decided that the object had come from the Mother. But the second object resisted control of the Church. Unlike the first artifact, this visitor was very much alive, and it could hop back into the sky only to alight somewhere else for a short time. One of these visitations was to the Mother City itself. The Grand Snuf'Er therefore decided that news of the visitor, as well as the determination of its origin, would be spread throughout the realm. The people were told to be respectful of the visitor, as it was from the Mother, and not to interfere with its holy and mysterious mission.
When news of the second visitor reached the Great Hall the Most Holy Snuf'Er had just decided to have your humble brother in the Mother's love silenced in the most permanent of fashion. Master Gil'Am, the leader of the Delegation of the Insane from the Asylum, spoke eloquently on my behalf and was able to secure my person from the executioner's blades. Gil'Am argued that sacrificing my life had little meaning now that word of the visitors would spread. Also, he said that the Church would need the insane to continue to examine these objects to help ascertain what their mission was. Why did the Mother send them? He asked that I be assigned as an assistant to Master Gil'Am as he was of increasing age and infirmity.
The Grand Snuf'Er assented to Master Gil'Am's petition with very little deliberation. I think His Holiness had other things on his mind with this new, undefinable flying object. This is how it came to pass that I should become a resident of the Asylum at Ann'As. Please do not despair for me. I believe I have maintained my sanity throughout the time I have been here. It has not been an ordeal, but a rather fascinating journey.
The insane here are many and varied. Some of them make no sense at all, while others are capable of creating great wonders. Their knowledge is immense though often flawed, but it is the very flaws that excite them. Rather than focusing on the true stories of the world, which we all know, they are continually creating new stories and then setting out to prove or disprove their truth. Happy are we who know the essential truths and do not require proofs. Happy are we who have not seen yet believe.
Here is an example of the knowledge of the insane. Shortly after we arrived at the Asylum, Master Gil'Am told me that it was not magic or divine intervention that allowed the new visitor to leave the ground. He had worked out how to do it long ago. He showed me a drawing that he had made on a membrane. It showed a small structure that a person would fit under a pair of rotating blades. The blades were made of stretched and dried membrane. A person would stand in the structure and working a series of cranks and pulleys would cause the blades to spin. Gil'Am said he had never built the contraption and was dubious if the blades would produce enough "lift" for it to work. But the new visitor proved that the concept was sound. It has four sets of spinning blades - one set at each corner of its oblong body.
Unlike the first visitor, which was round and sat on the ground in a kind of bowl, this one had an underside structure of protuberances that held it above the ground. There were eyewitness reports that when it first arrived, it too came down from the sky slowly, suspended under an inverted membrane bowl and tethers much as I had seen of the first visitor. But before it reached the ground, the flying visitor separated from the descending object and flew free. Thus began the odyssey of the visitor. Every day it would fly to new locations, and every night it rested. When on the ground, the object was very much alive with moving protuberances. One protuberance would dig into the ground beneath the object.
On one particularly auspicious day, the visitor came to rest on the very hillock where your humble brother first caught sight of the capital city. It rested there for a full day and night. One could only imagine what it was doing, though I can't help feeling that it was taking in the view of the sparkling city as I had done years ago. By the second day, a large crowd of the curious had gathered around the object, though they were kept at a safe distance by the Church Police. Some ran in fear the next morning when the object again ascended. It did not come back to the city. I wonder if it was as frightened by the crowds as they were frightened of this strange artifact.
Master Gil'Am, indeed all the residents of the Asylum, have been very busy throughout this time. During the inquisition Master Gil'Am had spun a fanciful tale that the objects came not from the Mother but from a far-off world that was close to the Son, so close in fact that liquid rock flowed on its surface and collected in vast seas. Despite the admonishment of His Holiness himself, Gil'Am continued in his belief of this heresy. He noted, for example, that those who were allowed to examine the second object found that it radiated tremendous heat, as if there was a tiny forge within. This he offered as proof that the object came from a place where temperatures were much hotter than our world.
The primary preoccupation of Master Gil'Am of late has not been the objects. Instead, he has become obsessed with learning more of the creatures that live in the infernos far beneath the surface of our world. Why, for example, do they need two eyes when the underworld is by nature shielded from light? Are there light sources down there?
There is no heresy here. The Grand Snuf'Er did allow for these things to actually exist. However, Gil'Am maintains his belief that there is a connection between the pseudo-life down there and life on his fancied world.
Even as I write these words, separated by time and distance from all of you, I can feel the impatient eye of the Abbot upon me. What about this dire warning? Get on with it!
Very well. The warning is not from me but from Master Gil'Am, though I have seen enough to understand. During these days, I have seen the Master grow more fretful and concerned. His sadness only deepened when the third visitor appeared. This one did not fly but swam! On the Arb'Us sea, it had stationed itself near the Mother City, very much as the second object had done.
I asked Master Gil'Am why he was so troubled. He said that he has been developing a thought about what the objects are and why they have been sent here. The inhabitants of his lava world built these objects to probe our world. As we have examined them, they have been examining us. How they can report back to their home he does not know, but he does not doubt it has been happening.
"Sym'An," he said to me, "I believe that they are like us in one respect."
"In what way is that?" I asked the Master.
"Insatiable curiosity," said Gil'Am. "I also believe that if they can hurl these objects across the wide void between our worlds, it is only a matter of time before they pay us a visit in person. An object will come, and it will contain... them! They are a life so alien from ours, from a place so incredibly hot, that I fear for our people and our world."
This is the threat that consumes Master Gil'Am. Here, in his words, is the warning that he has asked us all to communicate: "Tell the world. Tell this to everybody, wherever they are. The lava beasts are coming! Watch the skies everywhere. Keep looking. Keep watching the skies."
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