performing as men, others as women, and still others as Angels or dragons or demons. Sometimes they performed in new languages he did not know, had never heard, but he watched and listened. When the show ended and they removed their masks, he cheered as loud as he could, his voice swelling inside him, often with tears in his eyes.
The dirt formed a haze through the market from the thousands of bodies trampling through hour after hour, kicking up dust, particled into the air. The market was full of wares from across the world, from Soare to Roca to the Kingdom of Glass and farther east to the Cretians, artefacts from Ariel, from Caliban and everything in between. Boys of all ages, sizes, and colors sold themselves to whoever had the coin, and Sao studied the signs, the aberrations of their dress, of their ornamentation, from chains to rings to scars to brands to thick hirsute torsos and limbs. Sao watched intently all that happened at the market and returned day after day, night after night. The poor and depraved, the starving, the affecting aristocrats, the petulant and envious merchants, those who scammed the gullible, those who madeprofit off games or toys or workmanship of any kind.
Mostly, it was the stage, the masks and the illusions, the shroud of dust that blotted out all else, the rest of the market, the rest of the world fell away, and he felt his skin cool as if kissed by an eternal autumn. The words entered him like oxygen, like water, and he filled himself day after day on their intoxicating power.
He wandered Valencia’s vast geography which was impossibly flat, its structure based on the square, starting with the great wall and working inward, smaller and smaller with each subsequent square. The size of one’s square related directly to one’s economic position, with the smallest square being the home of the Ministru and the other governing persons, the Council of Twelve, one representative for each State within the Federation, with the Ministru making the thirteenth member, separate but presiding over its decisions.
Sao was not allowed past the eighth of the thirteen squares where he came to a high and thick brick wall with small gates and armed sentries. From close, nothing could be seen over the ten-meter wall. The homes in the eighth square were large but smaller than Yuske’s and Sao felt cold in their shade. The roads were clean and wide, lined with many militaristic banners and thick trees surrounded by grass parks. Working out from within, he walked past the seventh gate—the military district—and on back to square one, where the great market of Valencia was. With every step away from the center square, the lanes grew more numerous, the homes smaller, the road turned from cobblestones to dirt, the grass and trees and lamps disappeared, the roads wet and mucked, the walking more congested, the haze thicker until it became a labyrinth of artificial alleys, stalls, carts, beasts, performers, whores, and commoners. The beggars sat or stood or bowed or cowered along the edges, many of them children, many of them disfigured, blind, limbless. Many living near thetrainstation behind the market, taking shelter beneath bridges, makeshift hovels, and unused traincars. The whistle screamed several times a day and the soldiers beat the squatters away over and over to no avail. Every night they returned to seek refuge in an empty place.
The Ariel stood beside him at the tavern and smelt the air. It turned to him with an emotionless face, What are you? Its voice was soft, high, liquid, melodious.
Sao turned and faced it. Short, only reaching Sao’s nipple, and slight with a furry tail wrapped round its waist, immense wings packed tightly against its shoulderblades, and thick padded paws like a leopard for feet, though its short fur covering its body was gold. Its dark mouth hung open, fangs visible, its black ears long and pointed, triangular, but its eyes appeared black all the way through. Drinking his
The dirt formed a haze through the market from the thousands of bodies trampling through hour after hour, kicking up dust, particled into the air. The market was full of wares from across the world, from Soare to Roca to the Kingdom of Glass and farther east to the Cretians, artefacts from Ariel, from Caliban and everything in between. Boys of all ages, sizes, and colors sold themselves to whoever had the coin, and Sao studied the signs, the aberrations of their dress, of their ornamentation, from chains to rings to scars to brands to thick hirsute torsos and limbs. Sao watched intently all that happened at the market and returned day after day, night after night. The poor and depraved, the starving, the affecting aristocrats, the petulant and envious merchants, those who scammed the gullible, those who madeprofit off games or toys or workmanship of any kind.
Mostly, it was the stage, the masks and the illusions, the shroud of dust that blotted out all else, the rest of the market, the rest of the world fell away, and he felt his skin cool as if kissed by an eternal autumn. The words entered him like oxygen, like water, and he filled himself day after day on their intoxicating power.
He wandered Valencia’s vast geography which was impossibly flat, its structure based on the square, starting with the great wall and working inward, smaller and smaller with each subsequent square. The size of one’s square related directly to one’s economic position, with the smallest square being the home of the Ministru and the other governing persons, the Council of Twelve, one representative for each State within the Federation, with the Ministru making the thirteenth member, separate but presiding over its decisions.
Sao was not allowed past the eighth of the thirteen squares where he came to a high and thick brick wall with small gates and armed sentries. From close, nothing could be seen over the ten-meter wall. The homes in the eighth square were large but smaller than Yuske’s and Sao felt cold in their shade. The roads were clean and wide, lined with many militaristic banners and thick trees surrounded by grass parks. Working out from within, he walked past the seventh gate—the military district—and on back to square one, where the great market of Valencia was. With every step away from the center square, the lanes grew more numerous, the homes smaller, the road turned from cobblestones to dirt, the grass and trees and lamps disappeared, the roads wet and mucked, the walking more congested, the haze thicker until it became a labyrinth of artificial alleys, stalls, carts, beasts, performers, whores, and commoners. The beggars sat or stood or bowed or cowered along the edges, many of them children, many of them disfigured, blind, limbless. Many living near thetrainstation behind the market, taking shelter beneath bridges, makeshift hovels, and unused traincars. The whistle screamed several times a day and the soldiers beat the squatters away over and over to no avail. Every night they returned to seek refuge in an empty place.
The Ariel stood beside him at the tavern and smelt the air. It turned to him with an emotionless face, What are you? Its voice was soft, high, liquid, melodious.
Sao turned and faced it. Short, only reaching Sao’s nipple, and slight with a furry tail wrapped round its waist, immense wings packed tightly against its shoulderblades, and thick padded paws like a leopard for feet, though its short fur covering its body was gold. Its dark mouth hung open, fangs visible, its black ears long and pointed, triangular, but its eyes appeared black all the way through. Drinking his
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