Chapter Four
Missus Grier spared no expense on our trek. In Agricittá, I was fitted with new clothing from boots to bowler — and not the stiff black wool formals with waistcoats and starched collars. Instead of a waistcoat, I wore a green and brown woolen sweater over a white cotton shirt with the new-style collar that folded back over the sweater. A soft brown tweed coat, dark brown slacks, shiny black dress boots and a black bowler completed my traveling clothes.
We stayed two nights in small inns that catered to the upper class. I had expected to share quarters with Bedford in the stables, as would be the custom with male servants during a journey; however, we had private rooms in the inn both nights. We also ate in the inn's dining area and had access to the men's bath. For the first time in my life, I soaked in hot soapy water two nights in a row. I swear by Below, I had never bathed twice in the same week before. The amenities of the trip helped to brighten my spirits.
No words of great consequence passed among us that need be reported here. We talked about mundane things like the harvest and the approaching HighConjunction. Although, looking back on the thing, I can see that was by design. My ignorance was my major asset.
I regularly looked out the window and observed the countryside. The air was hazy with smoke from the field flashing, and it looked as if the world was being viewed through sleepy eyes. After a period of observation, I would take out my portfolio and pencils and begin to sketch the images stored in my mind: the agrarians harvesting the last of the crops before the crippling snows, the people of the small towns gathering wood for the post-conjunction pyres, Addy asleep, lying with her head nestled in Missus Grier's lap…
It was HighNoon of the third day when we reached the outer district of Primacitta, which radiates out from a focal point on the Rim in ever-increasing arcs of expansion. Over time, each arc developed its own identity with its unique style of architecture and culture. The boundaries of the cittá had grown to extend across two rivers that further divided outer arcs into sub-districts. The rivers flowed toward the Rim and terminated in great cascading falls of water. The Crimea River was the lesser of the two and the Niagara was the greater. At more than two kilometers in width, the Niagara Falls was the most spectacular of all the Rim falls.
Primacittá was a sprawling metropolis of more than 250,0000 people. The cittá was not central enough to be the hub of commerce among the settlements, but it was the seat of government and the location of the University. We traversed the breadth of the cittá to the RimEdge district, where the elite lived and the government offices were located.
Between the district and the actual edge of the Rim lay a strip of mostly undeveloped land about half a kilometer deep. It contained public parks, paths, and scenic lookouts that surveyed the vast, foreboding, and forbidden Basin that lay below. In the distance was a roiling fountain of vaporous kons that sometimes jetted more than two kilometers into the sky. This was the sacred Fount of Life, said to be the source of life on Neworld.
A high stone fence enclosed the Grier estate. A gatekeeper swung the massive iron entrance open and Bedford directed the horses up a long, curving drive. The surrounding trees and lush vegetation were so thick that I could not glimpse the manor from the entrance. When we finally rounded a bend and broke into open lawn, I was taken by surprise. I was expecting the Grier manor house to be a grand, impressive structure. However, it was modest in both size and architecture. It was a rambling, asymmetrical, two-story affair with a many-gabled roof and vine covered walls constructed of heavy timbers, brick and stucco. It looked more like an agrarian cottage than the manor of a franchise family.
I helped Bedford retrieve Missus Grier’s luggage. “Will I be staying with you in the servants’ quarters, Mister Bedford?”
“You’ll find neither servants nor servants’ quarters here, lad. We all live in the manor. But that’s of little matter to you at the moment. You’re just passing through.”
“I don’t understand, Mister…”
“We don’t use titles in here, lad. Now that we’re safely home, let me properly introduce myself. I’m James Bedford. Some call me Jim, but most call me Bedford.”
“I don’t understand, Bedford. Am I not indentured to Missus Grier as a servant, then?”
“Nah, you have it all wrong. You’re no servant. You’re a part of the team.”
“The team?” We climbed the steps to
the front entrance and entered the foyer. The interior was fitted more
as an office reception space than an entrance to a home. There were a
half-dozen or so people in the foyer when we entered. They smiled warmly
when they saw Bedford. But when they noticed me, their manners changed
in different ways. Some quickly looked away, as if the sight of me repulsed
them, others looked down at the floor like scolded children. No matter
their reaction, all but one scurried away into adjacent rooms, purposefully
closing doors behind them. What was that all about? Was I some sort of
pariah?
The remaining man approached. “Good to have you back, sir. Is this
the descender?”
Sir? Title, or no titles, it was clear that Bedford held some rank on the "team." I would need to be mindful of that fact.
“You know better than ta ask, Millan. But yes, it is.”
“When are you off?”
“Within the hour. As soon as Missus Grier is ready and I have the lad outfitted.”
“You’ll be ready by the conjunction, then?”
“Should be. We’ve five days ta get there, plus two or three days for the settling. Then we shall know.”
“What if he doesn't find what we expect?”
“Then, at least, we’ll know we’re wrong. It’s the knowing that matters, isn't it? But we shouldn’t be talking in front of the lad. You know the protocol, Millan.”
Millan nodded and retreated into another room. As he slipped through the door, I was able to glimpse a large map hanging on the far wall of the room. I instantly recognized the outline of Neworld, the scattering of settlements throughout the lowlands that covered the eastern two-thirds of the world, the impenetrable mountains that dominated the western third, and the vast Basin that surrounded Neworld, serving as a buffer between the world and the heavens. Yet there was something odd about the map. Markings extended beyond the Rim and snaked eastward from Primacittá into the Basin.
Who were these people? I was suspicious of their secretive ways and uncertain of their purpose; so, I thought it best not to ask about what I had seen. Instead, I said, “Why is everyone avoiding me?”
“It’s the protocol, lad,” said Bedford.
“What’s a protocol?”
“A procedure. A process.”
“A process to do what?”
"I can tell you this much. You’re going ta be asked ta do somethin’, ta go someplace no one has ever gone, make observations, and report what you find.”
“I still don’t see why people can’t talk to me.”
“That’s because all of us know what we expect you ta find — what we want you ta find. We need an impartial observer. D’you get what I mean?”
“When I come back… if I come back… you don’t want me to report things that I think you want to hear.” I said this even as I was thinking, If I escape from whatever questionable, maybe illegal, operation you have going on, you don't want me to be able to tell the authorities too much.
“Exactly, lad. The less you know — the lower your expectations — the more reliable your report. At least that’s the way the thinking goes.”
He put his two large hands on my shoulders. “And don’t go frettin’ about comin’ back. You aren’t goin’ ta die or any such thing. It’s a hair-raisin’ venture we're about, to be sure, but you’re in good hands, lad — the best.”
With that, he turned and strode toward the rear of the house. “We must hurry now. I gotta have us outfitted and at the cellars in less than an hour.”
– End Chapter Four –
