Read Online 5: The Holy Road by Ginn Hale - Free Book Online Page B

as he could tell the place was a collision of barren rock faces, sink holes, thorn forests and bogs. References to clouds of biting black flies and parasitic worms appeared as a common theme in all the literature.
    “Most of the songs are something like, ‘I’m so glad to be leaving the mudslides of Shun’sira,’” John hummed. “Or else, ‘Shun’sira, mountainous hell-hole, I hope you fall into the sea.’”
    “The honest songs of a bitter people.” Alidas laughed and Ravishan smiled at John as if he’d done something truly charming. John felt a ridiculous pleasure in having amused both of them. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to just relax in comfortable company.
    Minutes later, Vundomu came clearly into view. Dark banners decorated with scarlet moons hung from the walls. As the train approached, huge gates at the base of the fortress slowly rolled open. Plumes of steam and smoke shot up from the machines that powered the movement of the gates. Beyond them John thought he could pick out the silhouettes of hundreds of people and still more banners.
    “That’s quite a crowd waiting for the train,” John commented.
    Both Alidas and Ravishan studied the faint forms gathered in the shadows of the massive black gates. Hundreds of men stood in tight lines just beyond the train platform. Their uniforms looked like Alidas’ but instead of being green they were dyed black and gray—the colors of the Payshmura. They, like Ravishan and himself, wore their hair back in priest’s braids.
    For an irrational moment, John had thought the procession had gathered to welcome Alidas. Immediately, he realized his mistake. One or two friends might be expected to do that. But this was a gathering of hundreds, perhaps more. John couldn’t see where their ranks ended deep within the fortress.
    “I don’t see any—” Alidas frowned as the train continued forward. “Good eyes.”
    “I think they’re rashan’im,” Ravishan said.
    “They’ve come to greet you,” Alidas said to Ravishan.      “I hope you’ve prepared a speech.”
    Ravishan paled and said nothing.
    Living so close to the ushiri’im, knowing them as friends, John had forgotten how sacred they were to the rest of Basawar. The Kahlil was far more rare and of even greater sanctity. It was difficult for John to recognize that when he looked at Ravishan. To him, Ravishan was a human being, a man he cared for but not an object of worship.
    Now, even over the noise of the train engine, John could hear bells ringing and voices rising from Vundomu. He recognized the words of prayers as the gathered rashan’im chanted in unison. It had to be a thousand men, John thought as he caught sight of more ranks of rashan’im. Many of them were mounted on armored tahldi. Even at this distance, John could see the polished gleam of their boots and gloves. He became suddenly aware of how grungy he, Alidas, and Ravishan looked. It had been a week since their last opportunity to bathe. They’d worn the same clothes for days. All of them probably reeked of tahldi hide and coal steam.
    At the last two stops the train had made, there had been drink sellers and food vendors, ragged women with babies in their arms, and beggars all gathered at the sides of the tracks. John’s own comparative cleanliness had kept him from really noticing how bedraggled he’d become. Nothing like that was in evidence at Vundomu. Nothing at all. John squinted at the precise files of clean men in black uniforms.
    “Aren’t there any women?” John asked.
    “No,” Ravishan said.
    “Of course there are,” Alidas replied in the same moment. He gave Ravishan a slight shake of his head. “Most of the craftsmen and servants have wives and families. They keep their homes on the eastern hills. Many of the rashan’im of Vundomu have mothers and sisters there as well. The women raise crops and keep the livestock that feed Vundomu.”
    “I never saw any when I was there.” Ravishan