Beyond the Rim 28

"The forge needs more wind, Oorgo."
The small boy jumped on the bellows again, puffing out his breath just as heavily. Thurgod struck the molten metal with his hammer again. The metal formed perfectly, and Thurgod smiled.
"Why do we have to do this?"
Thurgod pointed his face at the child, aiming a foot above the belt buckle. "You must learn smithcraft."
"Why?"
"Because you are my apprentice, Oorgo. The fire needs more wind, child."
Oorgo jumped again, catching the top of the bellows and pulling it down with his weight.
"You should reach with your arms, child. You must grow in strength."
"But my arms are tired."
"Tired is when you begin to exercise. Exercise is when you get strong."
"But why do we have to do this at all?"
Thurgod set his project back into the forge. "The Fourth Mine needs parts for one of the machines. We must make it. We are the great smiths."
"But you don't need fire for that."
"Eh? Don't need fire? I can bend steel in my arms, but you cannot. And..."
"Not your arms, master. You can just tell it to bend and it does. Why do we need a forge at all? I saw you melt the chain."
Thurgod squatted down, putting his weight on the balls of his feet. He tried to keep his face pointed at the boy's face, but he could never be sure. "Pushing metal by command is a hard thing." Thurgod tapped the metal square that rimmed in his head and blocked his eyes. "I cannot do that all the time. And there is more. You cannot move metal that way. No man can move metal that way. So I forge it, that you may learn smithcraft."
The god and the boy instantly turned their faces towards the door as a tremendous crash thundered outside. Oorgo began to run towards the door, but Thurgod stuck his immovable arm in the way. "Oorgo. Let us play Find Me If You Can. The rule is that you must stay in this forge."
"But it's hot..." Oorgo was torn between his love of the game and his desire to escape the forge.
"The rule is the rule. We agreed that I get to make a rule when we play. Now you should stay."
Thurgod allowed no more disagreement, and stepped past the boy, slamming the door behind him. He reached with his mind and slid the locks shut. Oorgo could not reach the upper deadbolt. Then Thurgod moved his mind's eye in front of him.
A god was here. A demi-god. Thurgod sniffed.
"I can't imagine being blind so long."
"Ah. It is you."
"Indeed, thrall-god."
"What do you call yourself now?"
"I have always been called Gilgod."
Thurgod twitched mildly at the neck. "Welcome to my compound, Gilgod. Why have you broken down the door?"
"Wasn't that a neat trick? I did it by sheer will."
"Is it so much greater to do a thing by power than by your own body?"
The two deities stood in a courtyard of Thurgod's compound, facing one another, in silence for a few seconds.
"I am here for the boy."
"What boy?"
Gilgod smiled."Is that how it is going to be, Thurgod?"
Thurgod smiled. "I do not seem to recall any boys here. Something inhibits my mind."
The visitor laughed. "Very well. You sit right there, and I'll see if I can't refresh your memory."
Gilgod walked over immediately to the smithy from which Thurgod had emerged. "You locked this with your powers, did you? Well, I'll open it by mine." Gilgod placed his hands on the door, then a sharp sound exploded from the spot, and the door flew in.

Beauty and the Beast and the Tale as Old as Time

What Beauty and the Beast Can Teach Us

I am a Christian, and that affects how I do everything, including how I watch movies. Watching Beauty and the Beast, I was floored by how it illustrates, subtly and beautifully, some beliefs that I hold dear. When I saw Disney’s 2017 Beauty and the Beast, I was reminded of how God, perfect and beautiful, has lifted a curse off all of us, beastly humans as we are.

The Beast

The Bible teaches that all people are under a curse, a curse which we received as a consequence of our own actions. This curse caused us to lose the beauty we once had as perfect creatures, what the Bible calls being, “made in the image of God.” In Beauty and the Beast, the prince lives in a castle filled with riches, and ample resources to spare. When an old woman comes to him, seeking shelter from a storm and offering him a gift in respect, he spurns her, and dismisses her out of his castle, because he finds her ugly. If there is anything everyone can agree is morally wrong, throwing an old woman out into a cold storm is on that list. Intuitively, we agree that the prince should be punished. Later, Beast sings of how he, “never needed anyone.” Mrs. Potts informs us that while still human he lived very selfishly. Really, the curse only serves to make him look on the outside like he was on the inside all along: a Beast.

Left alone in his castle, Beast devolves into savagery. As he lives apart from true beauty, he grows only worse, dressing in rags and lapping up soup form his bowl. Left to his own ends, he does not improve. While we may not think our crimes as cruel as Beast’s, we know that we often behave selfishly, even at the expense of others. Though we do not have the horns and fangs, really, we are Beasts. This does not mean we are worthless or scum; it just means that we, at the last, have some bad built into who we are.

It may still be surprising to think of ourselves like the Beast. We think we are not so bad as that. And most likely, you have never done a thing so obviously terrible as he did when he threw the old woman out. But this is just another way we are like the Beast. When Belle objects that her father should not be given a life sentence for a rose, Beast counters, “I was.” But he is mistaken. He thinks he was given his curse because of that once incident, and particularly the part about the rose. But he was cursed for his extreme selfishness, which flowed through his whole life in many ways he didn’t think of. We, like the Beast, often imagine our misdeeds as fewer and smaller than they are.

Belle

Beast is not left in this miserable condition. The story picks up when he meets Belle. When she sacrifices for her father, getting him out of prison, Beast cannot understand this kind of unselfish behavior. He calls her foolish and shuts her away. However, he knows she might be the only way out of his curse. He begrudgingly commands her to come to dinner, which she refuses. He commands that she get no food unless she eats with him.

In some ways, Belle’s relationship to Beast parallels God in his relationship to us. Many people try to approach God the way Beast Approaches Belle. They know they need something from Him. They are not interested in changing their behavior; they just want out from under a curse. When God refuses to meet them on these terms, they think to make demands on God. They offer an exchange. Beast offers food; many people offer a change in some of their worse habits, or money, or church attendance, or lip service. One thing that is different about God is that he does not need anything from us; the whole exchange idea will not work.

There’s Something There That Wasn’t There Before

Before things get better for Beast, they get worse. Belle flees the castle because she cannot stand to be around Beast and his rage. But when Beast wounds himself protecting her from the wolves, she recognizes his unselfish act and his attempt to change. Again, here there is a difference. God would not be in any danger apart from us; the wolves are no problem for him. The parallel is in how Belle’s return is voluntary. She could have left Beast to freeze. In fact, when she is dressing his wounds, and Belle graciously thanks him for protecting her, Beast tries to leave the blame on her for running off. She sets the record straight, that the whole thing is the result of his bad temper. He ceases to defend himself, accepts thanks, and even thanks Belle.

Belle and the Beast now get on the right foot. Belle catches him reading the equivalent of a romance novel; belying his rugged and beastly character. Beast admits to being moved by the poetry Belle is reading. Some people have difficulty relating to God because they will not allow their facades to fall away. For some, they hide behind cynicism, and others hide behind skepticism. Before Beast can begin to grow, he must drop his façade of rugged, individualist, cynical thinking.

It is worth noting that these characteristics only become facades as he is changed by Belle’s presence. He spent years in the castle sullen, angry, and bitter. But even a little exposure to Belle proves that these traits are not really him; they are as much results of the curse as his horns and fangs. Similarly, some (though not all) of the bad about us has been added on. We explain this when we apologize after an outburst by saying, “I don’t know what came over me.”

Beast gives Belle the library. He shows her the magic book that takes them away to Paris. Beast learns to drink his soup in as civilized a method as his features allow. Notably; Belle does not change. She is already beautiful, but is now helping Beast to become less ugly. They dance, and the song Tale as Old as Time always hits me right in the feels, but more on that later. At last, Beast allows Belle into the sanctum of his curse, where he hides away and nurses the wound that has made him who he is. He lets her see the magic mirror. All is well until…

Belle spoils the moment. She says, “It’s hard to be happy when you aren’t free.” What’s more, Belle’s father is in trouble. Beast knows what he should do; he lets Belle leave to protect her father. It is a beautiful reversal of his crime. He was cursed for keeping an ugly old woman out of his house, and now he releases a beautiful young woman. What’s more, this beauty was his one chance to cease to be a beast. He knows she won’t come back; he knows she shouldn’t. He is ugly; she is beautiful.

Evermore

Then, in my second favorite song, Beast tells us what it is like to see the beauty and hope go away. He recalls the entirety of this story so far. Let’s take it verse by verse.

I was the one who had it all / I was the master of my fate / I never needed anybody in my life / I learned the truth too late.
Beast says he had it all, was the master of his fate, and never needed anyone. But he knows these are lies. The story tells us so: He did not have a mother, an enchantress ruined his fate, and he needed a huge staff to take care of him and a town’s economy to support him. He learns the truth, as Belle changes his way of thinking.

I'll never shake away the pain / I close my eyes but she's still there / I let her steal into my melancholy heart / It's more than I can bear
His experience with true beauty will never go away. His cynicism and bitterness were ruined, and now his heart is broken as he only now begins to realize the depth of his beastliness all this time.

Now I know she'll never leave me / Even as she runs away / She will still torment me, calm me, hurt me / Move me, come what may
He knows he can’t go back to how he was. He has seen true beauty. What Belle taught him tormented him as it revealed how ugly his curse was, calmed him as she loved him despite it, hurt him as his pride was sapped, and moved him to admit to all of it. He accepts this, even with its sad results.

Wasting in my lonely tower / Waiting by an open door / I'll fool myself she'll walk right in / And be with me for evermore
He must remain alone, accepting his fate. He desperately wishes she’d come back, but he knows he’s fooling himself. The Beauty has no reason to have anything to do with him, now that he’s let her go.

I rage against the trials of love / I curse the fading of the light / Though she's already flown so far beyond my reach / She's never out of sight
Love has brought him great pain; he now knows his hopes have faded. But even though the Beauty has departed, he knows he’ll never stop seeing it.

Now I know she'll never leave me / Even as she fades from view / She will still inspire me, be a part of / Everything I do
The effects of Belle upon his personality will never leave, even though she does. Her sacrifice, love, and unselfishness inspire him. She has elevated him from some of his beastliness, and now everything he does is different.

Wasting in my lonely tower / Waiting by an open door / I'll fool myself she'll walk right in / And as the long, long nights begin / I'll think of all that might have been / Waiting here for evermore!
He accepts his lonely fate, but still wishes things might have gone otherwise. He knows he cannot lift the curse, and will remain a beast, forever.

Some people, at least somewhat aware of their own ugliness and beastliness, try to escape that curse by keeping Beauty prisoner with them. They try to change their behavior to make Beauty more comfortable to stay with them. They may try a religion’s rules or doctrines to chain down God and use him to escape their beastliness. But even as Beast shares the library, the grounds, the food, and the West Wing, learns good manners and learns to appreciate poetry, he’s still a Beast. He is now well groomed and rather nice, but still undeserving of love from Belle. When Beast let’s Belle leave his castle, it is like admitting that our own codes of ethics and our own good deeds cannot make us good enough for God. We are beasts; He is not.

The Mob’s Song

When Belle returns to save her father, Gaston recognizes the threat the Beast poses. He desires Belle, and imagines himself worthy of her. But what do we know about Gaston? From his own song, we know that he is especially good at spitting. His other claims to fame are excessive size, excessive force, and cruelty. He proves himself to be as selfish as can be when he leaves Maurice to die in the wilderness.

The Bible teaches that God, and humans, have an enemy who embodies selfishness. We know him today as the Devil, but these days that word creates a lot of confusion. Many tall tales have featured the devil, and he is the subject of many jokes. People often picture someone in red tights with a pitchfork when they think of the devil. But the Bible teaches none of these, only that the devil is a murderer and a liar, and works through everyone who does the same.

When I see Gaston whipping the town into a frenzy over tall tales about the Beast, and convincing them to lock Belle and Maurice away, I am reminded of how the Bible says the devil blinds the eyes of those who might otherwise see God. For the townsfolk, the best possible end is that Belle and the Beast come together. It will mean the reunion of families and the return of livelihood and prosperity to the poor provincial town. But just when they are about to get what they really need, Gaston convinces them it is the worst possible fate.

In the same way, the devil has used many false religions, false churches, and false philosophies to convince everyone that the God Christians believe in and which the Bible reveals is their worst enemy. Gaston is right. When threatened, in fear the people will do just what he says, and if he succeeds, they will miss out on the best possible life.

The angry mob breaks into the castle, but Beast does not go down to defend them. While earlier the Beast would have happily chased them all off or killed them, now Beast is different. He knows he is a Beast and the people are misguided. He does not even defend himself. Just when Gaston would have got him, Belle returns. She does not return because she needs the Beast to save her again. Her father and she have escaped on their own. She comes back only because she wants to save the Beast.

Then Beast has Gaston by the neck, hanging over a deadly fall. Then Beast proves his change of heart. He refuses to kill Gaston. He has every right to; he’s already bleeding from the wound Gaston inflicted. He will not become a murderer himself. He leaps to Belle; she’s all he wanted anyway. But Gaston is a murderer from the beginning; he makes good on his boast of sneaking up behind animals in the hunt, and shoots the Beast in the back.

But the Beast breathes his last, and the last petal falls. The Beast can change, and even learn to love Belle, but this is not enough to lift the curse. Even his greatest acts of unselfishness, releasing Belle and releasing Gaston, have not broken the curse. He must be loved by another.

Happily, he is, and the curse is lifted. Even more happily, so are we. God, the source of all true beauty, has chosen to love us, beasts as we are. Not only has he loved us, he has pursued us. He has lovingly, slowly, exposed us to more and more of Him, helping us to change. When we acknowledge that our own efforts cannot earn his love, he comes back just when we need it most, and gives to us a whole new life.  In receiving his love, the curse comes off, and we can be made beautiful as well. The Beast is made into the Prince, the royal love of Beauty itself, and made happier than he has ever been.

Tale as Old as Time

I promised more on the “Tale as Old as Time.” This song beautifully summarizes what I find deep, beautiful, moving, and true in Beauty and the Beast.

Tale as old as time / True as it can be / Barely even friends / Then somebody bends / Unexpectedly.
In our beastliness, we are barely aware of God. Our relationship is very forced, like Belle and the Beast. But then somebody moves closer. The Bible tells us God moves first in seeking us, and this is very unexpected.

Just a little change / Small to say the least / Both a little scared / Neither one prepared
This change may be gradual at first. The whole gap is not bridged. (Here the song does not parallel the truth. While we may be afraid of God and unprepared to meet him, he is not scared of us, and is ready).

Beauty and the Beast.
God is the Beauty, and we are the Beast.

Ever just the same / Ever a surprise / Ever as before / Ever just as sure / As the sun will rise.
Once you are caught in the Beauty’s love, the love never varies, but it is always a surprise to be so loved. Because it is God loving, and he is not sometimes good and sometimes selfish, but always good, the continued beautiful love is as sure as the sunrise.

Tale as old as time / Tune as old as song / Bittersweet and strange / Finding you can change / Learning you were wrong.
Being caught in God’s beautiful love and pulled away from beastliness is sweet, but also bitter, as we must admit to having the beastliness in us, learning we were wrong.

Certain as the sun / Rising in the east / Tale as old as time / Song as old as rhyme / Beauty and the Beast.

Tale as old as time / Song as old as rhyme / Beauty and the Beast.

This tale is as old as time itself; God has always been pursuing every person. For all of time we have told stories of the beautiful and the ugly, and how the ugly could rejoin the beautiful. We have done this because deep inside we know it is true, and we wonder how it can be. Beauty and the Beast helps me picture this just a little, if I look through the outer wrappings for what makes it such an enduring tale.

This is why I love Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. When I watch this movie or listen to its songs, I am reminded of how even though I am a Beast, the truest Beauty of them all has sought me out, is working to change my beastliness every day, has lifted a curse off of me, and promises me new life, that one day I will walk right into heaven and be with the Beauty…

Forevermore.

Beyond the Rim Installment 27

Oorgo clung to the knobby knee of Thurgod's immutable godflesh, as he watched his mother, sister, and father wave goodbye atop a journey cart. Thurgod watched the screws in the frame and the horses bits, and listened to the boys' sniffles.
"Why do they have to leave, Master?"
"For each person is his life, and for each life is a place, and work. They should go back to theirs, and you stay with yours."
"Why can't I go with them?"
"Because the Queen would not allow you to leave."
"Would you let me leave?"
Thurgod pointed his face at the boy. The crude belt buckle could not betray the boy's feelings, but the increasingly sticky mess accumulating on Thurgod's kneed did. "That is a question with no answer, for I am under the Queen, and you know her word."
"But if you didn't have to do what she wanted..."
"All within the Rim must do as she orders, for there is none stronger than her."
"Maybe she wouldn't notice me leaving."
"She would."
"But maybe she wouldn't care."
"She would."
Oorgo slammed his little fist into the back of Thurgod's leg, then clutched his arm and squelched a cry.
Thurgod squatted and caught the boys shoulders. "You must be careful with godflesh, or you will hurt yourself. It does not give to anything."
Oorgo looked up, then brushed his hand along Korlythe where it met Thurgod's forehead. "Anything?"
Thurgod whispered, "It gives to one thing."
"Is it stronger than godflesh?"
Thurgod's teeth chattered. "Yes."

Beyond the Rim Installment 26

Cart wheels clattered along the Way. Thurgod watched their wheel rims, and the bits in the horses' mouths. He watched the chain that linked him to Oorgo roam this way and that, wrapping in a circle around Thurgod's waist as Oorgo cycled from viewing the city over the rail, then back to watching the traffic.
Thurgod had sent the message by way of the town golem many days ago. He knew what to look for. A sack of silver coins, and one boon-coin. Such a cache of metal would not be discernible at a great distance. All traffic entering the city would have to come along the Way eventually.
Oorgo stumbled as he ran out the chain's length. Thurgod felt the child drop to the pavement, relieved to hear him giggling. "Child, if you would not wrap circles around me, you could walk further."
"Come over here, Thurgod. Come over here."
Thurgod followed the voice. "That is not my..." Thurgod paused. The chains were wrapped tightly around his legs.
Oorgo's giggling redoubled, and Thurgod smiled. He pushed on the metal with his mind, melting the links, sewing them together again. But then he winced. He could not push that kind of power.
Oorgo did not seem to notice, and only kept laughing. Thurgod looked at the metal in his mind. The job was half done, but with his recent torture he did not have the heart to finish it. The chain was ruined, until he could devote more time or a natural forge to it.
Thurgod bellowed, "Looks like you'll be learning chain forging this afternoon, child. I am too tired to push it the rest of the way."
Only then did Oorgo survey the oddly curled metal strip which the chain had become. "I can't move with that."
Thurgod said, "Certainly not." He reached to his waist and undid the fastener, then stepped his way out of the metal loops awkwardly. "Today, you walk without the chain." Thurgod knelt down, and undid the fastener on Oorgo's belt, linked to the buckle.
The belt buckle was a crude thing. Oorgo's first smithing practice had mostly resulted in a slight increase in the boy's muscle. His greatest accomplishment thus far was the belt buckle. Thurgod watched it in his mind. Without the chain, it would be his only means of tracking the boy.
As soon as the fastener was clicked off, the belt buckle bolted away, and Thurgod heard a small boy's laughter grow rapidly quieter at the same rate.
"Oorgo!" Thurgod bellowed. He did not understand this sudden burst of energy. For seven days they had not left the compound, and focused on training Oorgo in smith work, and not once had he acted like this.
"Find me if you can!"
This was a game Thurgod knew. "In this crowd? I will blunder into the street, young one." Oorgo had explained this game on the fourth day of smithing practice. They had tried it exactly once, in which Oorgo was only ever found after he grew bored. The blind god was a terrible seeker, and he had told Thurgod so.
"No you won't!" Thurgod kept his mind on the belt buckle, now very small. Then he opened wider and looked at all the belt buckles, the chariot wheel rims, necklaces. There were not a lot of people on the Way, and not many carts.
Thurgod extended a hand in front of him and muttered. "I am blind. I am blind." Thurgod hoped Oorgo would imagine himself hidden and become stationary. He could not travel quickly. After only a few steps he remembered the metal wreckage he had left behind. He backtracked and picked it up, then smashed the thin strips in his unflinching hands. Thurgod focused back on the belt buckle.
It was lying flat and stationary. Oorgo was laying on the ground. Thurgod shambled his way forward, hand extended, muttering. "Oorgo, your master has need of you."
The boy did not say anything, but this did not surprise Thurgod. This was the way the game was played, Oorgo had informed him. Oorgo either did not remember or did not care how little Thurgod had explained that he liked the game.
Finally Thurgod reached the spot, then quickly dropped and put his hand on the boy. But his hand met only the buckle and the stone pavement of the way. The fabric strip was there. The boy had dropped the belt.
Thurgod turned his head this way and that in an ancient habit of looking around. He grabbed the shoulder of a passerby, using a necklace to aim. "Human! Have you seen a small boy?"
The human stood transfixed in fear. To see the smith god was one thing, to be touched by his godflesh, another.
Thurgod withdrew his hand. "My servant has run off. I am blind. Have you seen the small boy?"
"I... I... I have seen many small boys. Running errands. Apprentices are all over the street."
"What about one with no belt, running no errand?"
"I... I... I am sorry, lord, I..."
"I am no lord, sir. If you have not seen my boy, I must be going." Thurgod turned away and walked quickly, bellowing, "Blind! Blind! Oorgo?"
Chariot rims rolled by. Purses on chains. Sandals. A golem approaching down the street. Coins. A journey cart with a depleted sack of silver coins and one boon coin, stopping to a halt.
The boy's parents. Thurgod inhaled deeply and faced the cart.
"Father! Mother! Mairda!"
Oorgo's voice. He had spotted the cart and ran at it, his life spared only by the attention of three different cart operators, all yanking on their horses' bits.
"Oorgo! My boy!"
The elated screams and yells of the family were followed quickly by the curses of the three drivers.
"He's right there!"
Thurgod watched as a small necklace turned to face him. The rims of the journey cart turned as it was pulled to the margin of the street, amid apologies and curses by various drivers and one occupant of the cart.
Thurgod looked down the street. Of course, he couldn't be hurt by anything rolling or walking along, but mortals interacted poorly with implacable godflesh. If a chariot hit him, a charioteer's livelihood might be destroyed with no harm to his divine body.
The golem was very near. Mortals always gave golems a wide berth on the street. Thurgod slipped through the gap and crossed the street.
"My servant has found his family, then?" He said.
"And quite obliged we are to you, Master Smith," said a deep voice.
A feminine voice agreed, but even Thurgod could hear the forced nature of her words, "You do our son a great honor and favor."
Thurgod bowed. "It is a privilege to teach the boy smith craft. But the driver is delayed. He should be let go."
Henlick asked, "Where are we to go?"
"You have come to see the boy. Or have I misjudged?"
"Well, yes. But where are we to stay?" the mother's nervousness was evident.
"Room will be found for you in my compound. And you shall see the city, as well, unless you already know the capital?"
Henlick gathered up a the sack of coins, and the boy's mother a sack of hearty rolls. Mairda leapt down from over the wheel, to the remonstrance of her mother, and the chariot was ordered away.
"Oorgo, why do you have no belt on? Your trousers sag..."
Thurgod answered, "I have it here, lady. He discarded it in a game of Find Me If You Can."
"Thurgod can see metal, but not anything else!"
Nobody said anything for a minute. Thurgod did not understand the silence.
"You... play hide and seek with our son?" There was a catch in the lady's voice.
Thurgod swallowed. "Yes. It is... our favorite game."
The necklace moved quickly, toward the metal buttons on the father's jacket.
The girl's voice followed immediately, "Can we play at your house?"
Thurgod pointed his face towards the voice. The voice was eager. She played the game, too? He muttered an incoherent filler then said, "Of course! But perhaps you two shall seek me?"

Red Rain 2 - Not Really. It's Red Rain 1 Again!

One Hundred Sixty-Four Words from the Co-Author

Those of you who read this blog are very likely to already be fans of Aubrey Hansen. And if you're not, then I will leave you to discover the ample online material surrounding the authoress herself, including the earlier posts from this distinguished blog tour, linked to at bottom.
You probably know that some time ago I enjoyed basking in her fandom by writing a fan fiction sequel to her Red Rain. Much more recently in development, I pulled it off again but this time got my work in the freshly published prequel Project 74: An Unaccepted Short Story. This is long-time fans first chance to get a peek at what the published hybrid of Aubrey Hansen and David Hartung (that's me!) plan to produce this fall in the upcoming sequel. Aubrey did a lot of work to refine my draft, and you can be sure she and I will be working together to make sure that inserting my content into her world doesn't become a jarring experience.
Aside: Thanks to all of you who have provided reviews of that experience on Amazon. I take to heart your criticism and your praise. I want nothing more than to make all the old Aubrey fans out there happy with the upcoming content.
Without further ado, my contribution to the blog tour: a little excerpt from Red Rain!

Cea was silent. I glanced over at her. She was bent over the crate, holding the digital picture frame in her hands. The picture of Ephesus was still on the screen.
Cea frowned and squinted. 
“That’s my older brother,” I explained. 
She jerked her head up. Her face was colorless. 
“He’s your brother?”  
“Was.” I  looked  down  at  the  gray  sweater  in  my  hands.  “He  was  sent  to  Mars  on  scientific  business  as well... But his transit home exploded.”
“I know,”  Cea said quietly. 
I looked up again. 
“You know?”  
She nodded and stood up. She held the frame close to the wall, and the magnets snapped into place. 
“ I’ve met him.”  
She gave the corner a tweak, adjusting the position. She regarded the image for a moment, then glanced back at me. 
“This was the base he worked at.” 

Blog Tour Schedule

June 2

Bookish Orchestrations-Tour Introduction and Excerpt
Laurel’s Leaves-Author Interview
Frances Hoelsema-Excerpt
Aubrey Hansen, Author and Screenwriter-Excerpt
Perpetual Gardener, Writer, and Mormon-Book Spotlight
The Overactive imagination-Book Spotlight

June 3

Grace Pennington-Excerpt
Gabriellyn-Excerpt and Author Interview
Joyful Peacock-Author Interview

June 4

Letters from Annie Douglass Lima-Excerpt
Another OtherWorld-Character Interview with Philadelphia
Jaye L. Knight-Excerpt

June 5

Mary’s Writing World-Book Spotlight
God’s Peculiar Treasure Rae-Book Spotlight
Rachel Rossano’s Words-Excerpt and Author Interview

June 6

Tale Weaver-Author Interview
Lisa Swinton Queen of Random-Book Spotlight
Irly Scribblings of David J Hartung-Excerpt

Beyond the Rim Installment 25

Thurgod commanded the gate to his compound to open as he flicked his hand. He watched as the latch gave way and the metal swung away. The smith god's rounded shoulders slumped, and his hand trembled at his side. He stepped through the gate, then reached behind and threw the gate shut again. The gate shut with a loud noise.
Thurgod proceeded to the door of his living quarters, but stopped as he saw its hinges turn open before he reached it.
"Is that you, child?"
"I heard the gate bang shut."
Thurgod took a tenuous step forward. "I am sorry, child. I was not thinking of your sleep."
Oorgo stood in the doorway, staring at the moonlit silhouette of the smith god.
Thurgod sniffed, and reached forward with his hand. "If you are  still in the door, I cannot come in, child."
"Sorry, master." Oorgo stepped away, and hearing the footsteps Thurgod stepped inside. He pictured his bed of iron only a few rooms away.
"Thurgod?"
"That is not my name, child."
"Sorry, master."
Thurgod had taken half of a step towards his own door, but then paused and pointed his face at Oorgo. "It is I who should be sorry. I have woken you, and when you have obviously wanted to ask me a question, I have rebuked your sleepy head. What did you wish to know, Oorgo?"
"The Queen. What did she say?"
"What did she say?"
"When you went to talk to her."
"The Queen. Yes. Yes. I spoke with her tonight. She had questions for me."
"Questions about smith work?"
Thurgod remained still, frozen in his half-turn. "Questions from one god to another."
"But what about? Why did she call you away?"
"Are you afraid, child? What is the meaning of so many questions?"
"Are my parents coming?"
"What do..." Thurgod canceled his own question to catch Oorgo as the first sob nearly threw the boy over.
"The queen is terrible. She..."
"Your mind is too small at this hour, child. You need sleep." Thurgod cupped two of his fingers over the boy's mouth, but left his nose open. "Little boys should not be wakeful at this time, not after so much walking."
"...my parents..."
"I think that they are coming, child."
"You do?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"If you were not going to believe me when I answered, why did you ask me?"
"Huh?"
"Why did you ask me to tell you, if, when I told you, you would only ask why I thought so?"
Oorgo began to answer, but his answer was lost as his head flopped onto Thurgod's arm, and he was asleep again. The smith god carried the child back to the bed of straw, and before putting him in he remade the bed.
"The hearts of little boys should not be troubled with so much, but for now it has to be. You will be made stronger."
"Stronger?"
Thurgod's eyebrows raised.
"Yes. Stronger. You will have arms like mine. Metal will bend because you strike it. You will be a fine smith."
"Stronger."
"Yes, child. You will carry a whole crate along the whole Way and not grow tired."
"A magic crate?"
"Yes. You will carry a Queen's Chest, full of secret things that you have made."
"What kind of things?"
"Things you invent. Things I could not make."
Oorgo tried to answer again, but only muttered a whisper.
Thurgod continued. "You will go through the city, and some will say, 'There is Oorgo.' And you will enjoy sunsets. And you will be the smith for people, as I am the smith for gods."

Beyond the Rim Installment 24

“Thurgod. You are delayed in answering my summons. Why?”

Cyllgod was not in her amphitheatric court. She was back in the Room of Green Marble, her personal quarters. It was an austere room, with tremendous ribbed doors as its gate, of metal a few inches thick. This room was hidden away within the mountain, away from natural light. It was only ever lit by the light that emanated from unrestrained godflesh, or the incantations of the demigods who attended.

Her question hung in the air as Thurgod silently took shambling steps towards her. “My lady, do you wear mortal raiment today?”

“I do. Projecting the image of clothes to the human minds may be well enough for thrall-gods, but it was time that the Queen of All Gods distinguish herself.”

“You have distinguished yourself among gods by draping cloth over your body? My queen, the body is but an option to us. It cannot be improved.”

Cyllgod laughed a single syllable. “Advisement on appearances comes from the blind god? You cannot even see what I wear.”

“It is more than your crown, Queen. A coat of mail, ill crafted by a lessor smith, this cannot become a the Goddess for…”

The Queen raised an arm, draped over with a deep blue sleeve. “Kor! Kor! None of that talk here! And I think that your crown would remind you of it. And here you have flattered me and saught to avoid my question. I sent a summons to you by my swiftest demigod, my personal messenger. You received it hours ago, many of them. You might have come during the day. Yet now it is night. I give you a chance to explain yourself.”

“I was summoned while my servant was with me, and he is of a tender age…”

“Now there is an interesting fact! You choose the most unusual servants, Thurgod. This boy cannot have seen fifteen winters, and you have made him the chief servant to the greatest smith there has ever been?”

“A strong arm can be put onto any man with enough labor. Knowledge of metals can be taught. That boy has what cannot be put in by any god within the Rim.”

Cyllgod folded her hands together and crossed her legs. “Oh? Are there gods beyond the rim?”

Thurgod dropped to his knees, beginning to pant.

“You know, Thurgod, you sometimes talk about the strangest notions. You talk about gods being made for something, and not for another thing. You talk about there being a world outside these mountains that is not pure desolation and emptiness. I’ve even heard you to whisper in your deepest soul about a god before all gods, before me. Are you going mad?”

Thurgod dropped to his face, writing on the floor as forbidden memories were aroused, and grunted a gross bellow, followed by something just better than a snarl.

Cyllgod laughed three syllables this time. “Why, you look mad! Look at you, so precious in your limitations! And to think that with your mind and body so castrated as it is that you still have the audacity to scheme against me in my own city.” Thurgod’s neck twitched furiously, but he clenched his teeth against making noise.

“Do you remember when you once walked outside this city? Do you remember what the trees looked like?” She pronounced each of the last three words delicately, with wet lips. “Do you remember having a face that did not appall every mortal….”

Thurgod rolled onto his back, seizing at the smooth floor below him. His roar of pain struck just the note to reverberate a dozen times in that stone room, shaking the metal doors on their hinges. His bass tone was complemented with sick harmony by the ringing laughter of Cyllgod.

Thurgod struggled to articulate. “Torment. You brought me here, to torment me?”

Cyllgod stood from her seat on the raised dais. “Oh no, no sweet Thurgod. I brought you here to ask you questions. But you were not going to answer them. You mean to keep a secret about that boy of yours. So if you will not comply and bring forth what you can but will not, then I will bring forth what you will, but cannot.”

“Liar. Queen of them.”

Cyllgod stepped forward, her leg projecting from dress she wore below her newly sewn robes of state. She stepped with perfect balance, her silver crown never wavering. “Queen of everything, to you, thrall-god.”

Thurgod repeatedly beat the side of his face into the ground, the Korlythe chipping at the floor. Thurgod made every effort to pronounce words, but only managed to produce foam.

With an infinitely graceful movement, Cyllgod was suddenly kneeling beside Thurgod’s head. “Oh, little Thurgod, my favorite little god. You hurt so badly. Shall I lift the pain?”

Thurgod’s breathing stoped, except occasional wheezes. He could only manage to whisper out the L sound repeatedly.

Cyllgod’s voice dropped two octaves from its usual pitch, and she muttered words not ever heard within the rim. Silver streaks churned around her face, concealing her bluish hue, until quietly she voice faded to whisper.

Thurgod took a series of sharp breaths. The air. Except for the scent of Cyllgod, it was clearer. It was like…

The mountain was cold, and the pair climbed in snow that was knee high. They both were fully aware of the cold, but they did not mind it. They were gods.

She did not care. She was with the smith-god, and this was a fine adventure.

“I remember when the flakes were taken from the sea. It will be long before they return.”

“You should tell me when they return. We can… watch them melt.”

She laughed a hearty chuckle, “You’re silly. What fun is there in watching snow melt? It is always melting.”

“Do you know where all of them are? Every drop and every flake?”

“I know when they leave the sea. I know when they return. They tell me all their adventures.”

The smith-god put his thick hand lightly on the other god’s face. “The flakes brushing your face now? What are their stories?”

“That was just an excuse to touch my face, wasn’t it?”

The smith was silent for a moment. “Apparently not a good enough one.”

She smiled. “I didn’t say you needed a better one.”

“Do you like it, Thurgod? Being a god again?”

Thurgod opened his eyes and realized he was breathing evenly again. Cyllgod was kneeling beside his head, which rested on the cool marble, which was wet with his own sweat.

“What. What have you done?”

“Korlythe is just an ornament now. I lifted the curse.”

“I hear. I hear the Sea.”

“Oh, all your memories must be rushing back in. It’ll be fine,” she rested her right hand on his right shoulder. “Just ease back into it. You’re a god again, a real god. Greater than the fledgling demigods.”

“A god again? I have always been a god. A god for doing, a god for doing smith work.”

“Yes. That is how you were made. But here, in this valley, within this impenetrable Rim, there are only two gods, and true gods do not need to stay as they were made. I was the goddess of beauty. I am now Queen of Gods. What could you be, Thurgod?”

“I am always the god for smithing. I should not be any else.”

Cyllgod was silent for a moment, and then she traced the forefinger of her left hand along the outline of Korlythe. “You do not need to wear this anymore. I could call the crystal golems. We could draw it off.”

Thurgod’s voice leveled. “What are you doing, Corsinial of Old? What are you seeking to take from me now?”

Cyllgod leaned over, putting eyes just peering into the top of Thurgod’s vision. “Take from you? I am seeking to give to you. To make you great. Let you become a true god.”

“Speak the truth plainly, Corsinial. It is unbecoming of you to conceal from me still yet, when you say you are releasing me from a curse.”

“You could be the Prince of Gods, and we could reign together. No mortal and no demigod should see a difference.”

“What?”

“You and I. We are the only read gods here. Gods who have climbed the hill were First God once reigned.”

Thurgod was silent.

Cyllgod leaned her face directly over Thurgod’s face, only a few inches from his. “Together. Gods and rulers, together. As I wanted when first we came.” She paused, but Thurgod did not respond. “I was so glad when you were found in the camp. Not for the gems you carried in your belt, or for the golems you would build for me, but for you, Thurgod, my sweet…”

Thurgod spat, catch her full in the face. “I rule no humans. I rule no…”

Cyllgod struck him across the face as she stood up. “How dare you? How dare you assault…”

Thurgod was on his feet, “Are we not both gods? One god to another, Cyllgod, you are a liar, the Queen of Liars, a murderess, who plotted the death of Meldus, who ousted First God from the world.”

“I killed Meldus and I killed First God, and I’ll kill you, too if you do not learn to keep silent before your betters! Korlythe, awake!”

Thurgod felt the metal band tighten around his mind.

The cold snow did not bother his back. It did not bother her. They were gods. Her foam white hair spread across Thurgod’s chest from where she had lain her own head, watching the sky display Meldus’ glory. Rainbows of color flickered in the sky, and the smith scarcely cared for them. They were a good excuse.

Then there was a void, and there was no snow, and no foam white hair.

Beyond the Rim Installment 23

Oorgo and the smith god arrived at last on the fringes of the city as evening arrived. The evening was grey as the sunset was veiled by cloud, and the shadows of the mountains were now creeping up into the city. Still Oorgo's pace had not slackened, and he kept the chain taught as he went on ahead, fascinated again by the wares of this city's edge marketplace through which they had passed that morning. By now though the merchants and sellers were gathering together their wares and sealing them up, either to carry home or to leave in Queen's chests, metal boxes able to be opened only by the owner, a device of cunning for which Thurgod was surely responsible, though they bore the Queen's name. Oorgo paused and stared at one of these, fascinated as the merchant spoke to it.
The merchant muttered a nonsense password, "Cumunreal," and the box flipped its lid open. Oorgo jumped back, and blundered into a porter carrying away the greater half of another merchants wares.
The porter turned and muttered a curse as his load, carefully balanced across his shoulders, wobbled. Then seeing the chain he through down his load and said, "So now the gods make slaves of our children, eh?" He stooped and picked up a stone.
"Have not gods held humans by the nape of the neck all of your history?" said Thurgod.
"To think you lead a child around on a chain!" and he hurled the stone at Thurgod.
It struck the smith square in the face, but then rebounded in a random direction at the same speed with which it had flown in. A woman selling pottery ducked as one of her largest pots was shattered.
Thurgod bellowed in the direction of the porter, "Fool! How is that it is I that am blind, but it is you who cannot see? The child leads me!" and he gave a shake to the chain that connected him to Oorgo. "See, even now your anger is misplaced, and your own kind are hurt for it, and the gods pass on untroubled."
"I'd soon live to see the day you die, smith-thrall."
"And I have lived to see a hundred generations of men die, and am but a day older. It would be better if you let your anger pass, for it is fruitless."
The tension hung in the air for a moment, but knowing that another stone thrown could do no good, the porter turned and balanced his burden on his back again. He meandered to a side street, muttering, as the pottress chased after him howling her remonstrances, and asking who is employer was.
Thurgod resumed his walking, giving a tug on the chain to wake Oorgo from his petrified state. "The Queen waits for me, Oorgo. It would be better if we did not make her wait long." As Oorgo caught up to the god Thurgod scooped him up and placed him on his shoulders again, walking quickly.
"He broke the woman's pot."
"I am sure the courts of the city will settle that dispute."
"The queen's court is gonna do something about it?" asked Oorgo.
"No. There are other courts. Magistrates."
"I saw some magic crates. They opened when the man spoke to it."
"You have the wrong word again, Oorgo. A magistrate is a man who tells other men what to do when they are upset at each other."
"So are you a magistrate?"
"Am I man?"
"No."
"Then I am not a magistrate."
"Did you make the boxes?"
"They are called Queen's chests."
"Why didn't the stone hurt you?"
"I am made of godflesh, and godflesh does fear to be struck by a stone thrown in anger."
"What about copper? Can godflesh get hurt by copper?"
"No. Godflesh cannot be wounded by copper."
"Iron?"
"Godflesh cannot be wounded by any thing you will find on the planet, child?"
"Then what's wrapped around your face?"
Thurgod stumbled, and toppled to the ground, forcing Oorgo to make a rough dismount, and also crash to the ground.
The child immediately began to breath deeply and to whimper. Thurgod had known children enough to know what would come next, so he roused himself from his reeling and said, "We are already too slow. We must move on."
"My arm hurts. It hurts."
"Did it crack?"
"No."
"You do not walk with your arms; your are not so small a child as that, nor are you an ape. The Queen requires that we move on."
"What's an ape?"
"I will only answer that question if you are walking."
Oorgo hopped up, but then winced as he felt his shoulder. Thurgod began speaking immediately, "An ape is a creature with huge arms, so huge that it walks with them like feet. And instead of feet, it may have hands."
"I saw a juggler once. Can apes juggle?"
Thurgod skipped a stride as he walked. "Can it juggle?"
Oorgo just nodded and made a little skip forward, gaining a half-stride lead on the smith god. "You know. Throw balls or things in the air and catch them and throw them."
"I, I, I have never seen an ape juggle."
"Have you ever seen anything?"
Thurgod slumped his shoulders slightly. "Yes."
"I mean besides metal. Have you seen things that aren't metal?"
Thurgod did not respond, but his breathing deepened.
Oorgo looked down and slowed his pace. "I guess you must have. You knew that sunsets on the mountainside are beautiful."
Thurgod jiggled the chain idly, toying with the slack as they walked together. "Yes. They are."
The pair then walked in silence for a few minutes, Oorgo hanging closer to the smith god as the darkness fell and they reached where the shadows of the mountains fell onto the city. They finally obtained the Way again, and walked with the sunset before them, just showing between the jagged mountain peaks.
The cobbles of the Way were cool before they descended onto the city streets, and the iron of Thurgod's gate cold when they arrived. Thurgod opened the gate and let Oorgo in, then released himself from the chain. "It is the privilege of humans to close their eyes and no longer see the world. May your dreams be good, child."
"When will you be back, Master?"
"When you are asleep, if the Queen does not delay me."
"Do you know what she wants you for?"
"I think I do, but the mind, or whim, of the Queen is unknowable to most."
"Who can..."
"No more questions. It is not the time for it." Thurgod shut the gate and turned away, lumbering his stocky form as he retraced his steps towards the Way.

Beyond the Rim Installment 22

Thurgod was suddenly interrupted in the midst of the story. He and the child were only one terrace from the top of the final descent to the Sixth Mine, preparing for the long and level journey along the causeway. As they approached the last turn there appeared a sudden flash of brightness before them, and after the flash an altogether more amazing sight.
A human shape between seven and eight feet tall stood before them, its form made of twisted vines of blue, just slightly deeper than the sunniest of skies, and a color altogether foreign to those within the Rim. Obscuring his woven blue interior was the wreath of flame, blue at its base and green at its tips, which robed every part of its body save for the face and hands, and the face was obscured by a red-flame beard. Oorgo jumped back behind Thurgod, unexpectedly called out of the story which Thurgod told.
"Thurgod, thrall of Cyllgod, and Master of Smiths, you are summoned at once to the Queen's Court." The demigod's voice betrayed not even a hint of the flame that surrounded him, but was interrupted with frequent noises of snapping.
"I will come," said Thurgod. "Tell our mistress I shall come when the child is returned to my compound."
"The walk is long. You will not then be to her court by nightfall, and will make excuse to come another day. She says you must come at once."
Thurgod inclined his head slightly to be pointing his face at the messenger. "Is this how I have been in the past? When has the smith god said one thing to the Queen and then done another? Am I now suspected of deception?"
"You should be silent and do as you are commanded, thrall. It is not yours to ask questions."
"Nor is it yours to command me, nothing-god."
"I am the emissary of the queen. You are to come at once."
"I will come when the child," Thurgod tugged on the chain that connected him and Oorgo, drawing the child close to him again, "is safely returned to the compound. You know that evil men do wicked things to children caught on streets at night."
"I will take the child home; he will be in my care." The demigod spread his arms wide, a sight which caused Oorgo to stand beside Thurgod's leg, peering out at the mosntrous arms that might have embraced a dozen men at once.
"Tell the Queen this, that the smith god will come to her court when he has taken his servant safely home, and then come to her at once."
"It will be late. The stars will be bright before you could arrive."
"Has the Queen learned to need sleep? Are we not gods, free of being ruled by daylight? Did we not once..." Thurgod did not finish that sentence, clenching his jaw.
"You dare the question the queen's power of divinity? To her own emissary?" The green flares of the god's flame increased, and he stepped toward the diminutive pair.
"Emissary is a grand word to describe a nothing-god. Stand aside, and the child will go home with me."
"I will not return to my Queen without your consent to come at once."
"Then you will walk with us, and be yourself late on your return."
The demigod completed his stride toward them. "It appears your servant is a distraction to you from your duties. I will take him home now."
Thurgod stepped forward to meet the demigod, leaving only two more of his own paces, or one of the messenger's, between them. "And if I disallowed it? What then, nothing-god?"
The demigod swung his elongated limb at Thurgod, grasping his shoulder and tightening the grip, with crackling and snapping intensifying as his flame beard changed to white in fury. But the smith god stood still, his metal-wound countenance unflinching.
Thurgod opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it to again, forestalling words that would have caused him pain. He reached up and flung the arm off his shoulder, and then said, "It is now you who delay me. Leave me now to return my servant to his home, or I will have the Queen know it was your own vanity that delayed me."
The messenger leered, glancing at Thurgod for only half a moment, and then rested his eyes on Oorgo. He said the boy, "We will meet again, child," and then he started, as though to leap at the boy. Oorgo  tried to run away but the line that held him to Thurgod caught him, and he fell backwards onto the seat of his trousers.
With a flash the emissary disappeared, with only half a laugh in the air.
Oorgo ran to Thurgod, sobbing. He gasped for breaths, "He had fire and...." "How did you..." "...so scary..." "...why did he..." "what did he..." "I hate..." but Thurgod clapped his hand over the boys' mouth.
"Have you not seen, child, that the business of gods is beyond a boy? Then it would be better if you cared not for it, no more than it affects you or your human kind. If I and a god should disagree then it would be better if you did not think of it until you may learn from it, and you are small child. The hour grows late, and we are far from home."
Somehow the words quieted the boy, though they were little comfort. The thought of the bed of straw and waking to Thurgod's hammer on an anvil latched onto the boys mind. Within five minutes he was running ahead of Thurgod again, nearly dragging the smith god forward.
"Why do you live so far from the mine?"
"I live very far from the Sixth Mine. I live above the First Mine."
"There is a mine under my bed?"
"Yes."
"Then why don't I hear picks and golems, and there are no carts?"
"There are none who mine there now."
"The causeway is like a big spine, if the city were a really flat animal."
"Yes, child."

Beyond the Rim Installment 21

The two boys approached the cliff softly in a spirit of reverence and not of stealth. Their risk of detection was no less here than any other earth they tread. Their people had known these cliffs to be magical for years, but only the elder of the boys here truly knew anything of why, and he very little.
At the brink of the vertical stone face the boys paused.
"You must tell me when, Threader."
"I have only a little idea myself, Holder."
They stood looking below toward the floor of the abyss before them. At this time of morning fog lurked, and the bottom could not be seen. Neither of them knew if a river lay at the bottom or not. They had never fallen so far.
Then without warning Threader jerked over the edge calling, "Now!"
Holder barely had time to catch the leader's hand but was soon falling with him. To Holder's sight, this was a suicidal leap, but his faith in Threader and their master told him otherwise.
Threader could see the Gaps. Called "hihms," being the plural of a single "hihm," the Gaps appeared as rapidly fluctuating bubbles with neither shell nor center. They were not vacuums, as though air had lost its place, but voids, tears in the fabric, or otherise ripples in a river, made by the dropping of an immense stone upstream. Threader could never say what they looked like, but when pressed he said it was like having your eye in glass, an unending sea of clarity.
As Threader gained speed, the Gaps became more manageable. With any luck or happy providence he would find one of them before he found the ground, and his gift would save him, and any he pulled along.
Shortly before the mist would have enveloped the boys utterly Threader found his Gap. Racing as fast as gravity would draw him the Gap took shape just below his feet, and then for a moment neither he nor Holder knew anything. Then Holder would awake in a new place, as snapping to from an unplanned sleep. Threader's mind strained under the journey. He traveled through colors, as though they were brushing limbs of trees. He said it was like "falling outside," not in any particular direction, just out. Afterwards he would only have scattered impressions and lingering visions, recollections of meeting beings with too many faces or with too little other than faces, with the faint notion that he had, while away, met a god the sight of which defied words that asked him where he was going.
The landing was narrowly made. The tandem team alighted from that glassy dreamland on the sill from which they had last escaped.
"A dangerous choice, Threader."
"I asked," then he corrected himself without pause, "aimed for the scroll room itself. Sure beats sneaking here with the Guardian's ears on the ground."
"I heard you. You said 'asked,' again. There is a god."
"There is no reason to think there is a god. I speak where I wish to go and go there. Only because there are some gods do we imagine there must be another."
"They say you are in another place while you make your way here, dragging me along."
"They also say that you are to waste no time while we are within his bastions." Threader pointed to the jars and chests they had left.
Holder stepped lightly over to a drawer in a tall chest, withdrawing the slender scroll from which he had been reading when last he and Threader had ventured there.

Thurgod soon passed under the Wild Gate, made when he had learned from Bendu the image of wildness, and forged the watcher which ruled the portcullis. The image of the true wild glowered down at the smith-god, the tension of every beast waiting to spring inscribed in its folding metal. Without a word or a motion the will which Thurgod had forged into it lifted the portcullis, and the smith-god entered the first city.
The Wild Gate opened upon Bendu's Quarter, where the people answered to him. That tract was wide, and though it was called a city there were forests within its walls, or so in Bendu's Quarter.
Bendu's quarter offered little material to Thurgod, but always a trickle of inspiration. From vine was learned chain, and from from branch was learned beam. From wing was learned wing, and from from tooth, saw. But what Thurgod needed was not in Bendu's Quarter.
Deep into the city Bendu's Quarter came to an end, it's wide swath suddenly cut by a gigantic circular way, paved with stone perfectly smooth and without crack, maintained pristine by Endro himself, when business should call him there. Thurgod cut straight across the stone slab, stepping over the grate he had made to the ditch below, where rain would run into the sewer, which was of Itris' design.
It was the genius god whom he saught. Itris, whose mind was broader than that of any other god. She had made the sewer in her mind; Endro had delved it with his command. She had framed the tower in which she lived on paper, and the many lessor gods of clay-baking and wood-cutting had built it. It was the most austere of her designs, a block of brick framed in wooden beams, with dingy clay of brown color just paler than human skin, but it served her purpose.
Thurgod rang upon the door, clanking a knocker which he himself had made, after her design. At the first clang a shutter opened above the door, revealing a glass eye, which shut itself again in an instant. A moment later the door was opened inward, and Thurgod progressed onto a platform and said, "To the Lady."
The platform immediately rose into the air, with a graceful acceleration. Thurgod rushed past windows and balconies as he stood tensely maintaining his balance. With equal grace the ascent ceased, and Thurgod stepped onto a carpeted projection from a more distant balcony. Aesthetics and the use of empty space in pronouncing grandeur were not lost on the genius god when she could see a purpose in them. For the entrance to her private study, nothing else could suffice. Thurgod passed by a dozen golems of pure glass, difficult to spot in that pale blue light which glowed from hallowed crystals which Endro had given Itris as a gift. And then the door into her study opened.
Itris needed no throne room; a throne could not add to the perception of her deity, for any who made eye-contact with her felt their own minds grow small and dim in comparison, though when they walked away they knew they were in fact more capable than ever before. On a plush cushioned stool sat the genius herself, her mind pouring into a book, upon the pages of which were scrawled notes in a letters and organization more efficient than lines, but the pattern of which perhaps none but herself could discern. Her hands were idle on her knees, and not for her bright clothing her entire appearance might have been missed in that dim room.
"Master Smith? I do not recall summoning you. Have you come to learn of me again? Your thirst for knowledge is uncommon."
"Your assumption of knowledge is all too common, Scholar Queen," said Thurgod, smiling.
"Ah, there again I have assumed motive where no motive force was visible. You make me wiser."
The door shut behind Thurgod as he entered the room, carefully avoiding stepping on the tools and rubbish. It was hard to discern the difference when in her study, so many devices beyond comprehension of both mortal and divine littered her private chambers.
"I hope you can make me wiser. I have found a metal that bends neither to my command nor to my hammer."
Itris showed surprise, but said nothing, until Thurgod allowed a protracted silence. "Go on," she said.
"Meldus took me into a cave, and through a crack in the cave into a hall, wherein was a flat space, and then a raised dais."
"Is this the Hall to Bendu that Endro said he was making? It was to be a surprise, Thurgod."
"It is not that hall. While Meldus and I wondered at its common beauty, and its unexpected existence, I smelled Xerphii."
Itris involuntarily closed her book. "Go on."
"No Xerphii appeared, and no challenge was made to us. In worry Meldus broke his body and streamed into the sky, sending Endro to meet me. There we searched out the scent, and found behidn the dais, buried a few feet, a metal which would not break for him, nor be bent by me. Instead, when I had summoned up a hammer, the shaft was bent and head shattered."
"From what was it made, your hammer?"
"Endro summoned up the finest iron ore he knew, and gave it to me pure, unsmelted."
"There are harder things that can be made."
"And my shaft was of my own divine making, and it was bent."
Itris bit her lip. "Certainly something from out of the world, then."
"And it smelt of Xerphii."
"Then we should call it xerphyn, the metal of the Xerphii."
"What is more, Scholar, behold this," and Thurgod showed his right hand in a patch of light from a narrow ceiling window.
"You bleed?"
"The hand that struck the xerphyn is pierced, as though slashed by claw, in many places."
"You must visit Derad and have him heal you. He understands godflesh as well as mortal flesh or the flesh of beasts."
"It hurts no more than to have wrung hard metal. I will attend to that at my own time. The God of Growth need not be disturbed by the Smith-God's pains."
"A wound made by xerphii or xerphyn are both grave. He must learn from this, in case there is another war beyond heaven."

A crash awoke Holder from his reading. A stone spike had whizzed by him and smashed a clay jar behind him into pieces. The same sound woke Threader from his unplanned nap.
"I'm an idiot!" blurted Threader as Holder leapt to him, catching his arm.
"Obviously. Now out the window!" They leapt to the sill and bent to dive out. Holder kicked off the wall, but was brought back by Threader's grasp, as Threader tumbled back into the room. His waist had been grasped in the stone grip of the Guardian.

Beyond the Rim Installment 20

"In the western foothills, far from this city and far from the Queen, lived a peaceful people. They harvested the crops of the wild trees of that region, a fruit of which I cannot even begin to tell you, and herded cattle. There were among them no rulers, for each house was far from the other, and against one another there was no ill will. Thieving was harder than honest work in those days, so far apart did people live, and also because the wilderlands were not without danger. Though humans did little that was unfair to one another, nature himself was harsh, for he did not care to have humans in that place. The hills were sacred to him; they were to him an art he had made, and to see them sullied with human flesh made him angry.

"Nature sent his manticores down from his sacred slopes, from those temples to him above mist and cloud, and they scoured the hillsides, gobbling goats and sheep, and chasing people into caves or under roofs.

"A certain of the manticore descended upon a lonely lodge, where lived a young man by himself, without wife or child. The beast descended from the sky with a roar, invoking that unutterable name of Nature, which no ear but..." and Thurgod winced, "no ear in this valley can hear in total. The roar was terrible, but the man was brave, and he burst from his lodge with a long spear.

"But this manticore was more terrible than others. His tail was long, and split into three on the end, each spiny spike dripping with greedy venom. From his jaw draped a beard longer than the man in height, advanced by two fangs nearly like tusks."

"Like what?" asked Oorgo.

"Like teeth the size of arms, little one."

Oorgo had learned that perfect balance of fear which makes the story more exciting but does not distract from it.

"The manticore was most beautiful, perfect in each dimension, sullied only by its love of human blood and even, when most enraged, the blood of manticore."

Oorgo gasped a little, as he had learned that the bard enjoyed. He had heard that manticore and yeti were too civilized to eat one another.

"The sight that greeted the man was terrible. Even in the moment it had been on the ground it had slain nine of his animals in the very fold, each now writhing on the ground as the venomous tail slashed about, looking to catch more. In a surge of bravery the man leaped forward, plunging his spear into the flank of the brute, caught unawares, for the lodge of that man was carved into the hill, and few would have seen it even from the ground.

"The manticore whirled about, its tail indiscriminately swatting down a few living animals, which lay still on the ground in petrified fear. The suddenness of the turn caused the man to drop the spear, and he lay sprawled on the floor of the fold, the manticore staring into his own eyes."

"The manticore said, 'Fool! I am a beast of majesty, and you a petty human. Your wound is nothing to me,' and even as it spoke thus one of its tails curled around the weapon, still lodged in its flank, and cracked it off, then dug out the head. The venom expunging from the tail proved a balm to the flank, and its blood ceased quickly.

"Then in a flash the middle tail of the manticore slashed over its own head and struck the man in his foot, pinning it to the ground. The greedy venom rushed in, and slowly seeped from the foot to the ankle, and then towards the knee.

"'Nature will have its way with thee,' growled the beast, and then it launched into flight. The man dragged himself back into the lodge, where he found his own ax and severed his leg just below the knee, just above where the venom had reached.

"In the following dayshe built for himself a false leg so that he might still walk, and tend to the animals. For a year he lived thus, until the leg was no pain to him. For another year he lived, and soon none could have told he had ever fought a manticore. In another year he took a wife, and in another year he had a son. In another year, the manticore returned.

"It was the same noble beast that had come before, and now it had spotted the fold again. When it struck the ground it remembered the lodge, and forgetting the animals it strode towards the door. It could smell the human smell. But before it even reached the door the door was flung open, and the man emerged, holding again a long spear. He said, 'Take the animals and go, or I will spill your blood again.'"

"The beast laughed, 'Was my blood spilt in a time past? I have no fear of you.'"

"'The scar on your left flank belies you, as does the grass which never grows where your life was drained, if even only for a moment.'

"'Shall I flee and be left hungry, because a man pointed a bit of a tree and a stone at me?' it bellowed, bristling its tails.

"'Do not flee hungry, but full, for all the animals may be yours, and you need not fear to spill blood.'

"The beast replied not at all, but turned and in a handful of moments had slain every creature in the fold and devoured it, and then it flew away."

"After five more summers the beast returned, and said, 'Not your animals this time, human. I must bring home human blood. Give me your son.'

Beyond the Rim Installment 19

Thurgod's face betrayed feeling less readily than most, primarily because it's expressions were nearly void of movement in the upper face. His eyebrows might still move about, and the far regions of his face twitch as though trying to move his eyes emotively, but the expressions did not resolve. Oorgo was shocked at the expression, of extended jaw and knit brows, that was revealed despite the unholy band.
"Stallid, this part that I have repaired by my skill, it belongs to an augury golem, does it not?"
"You know it does. The augury golems were of your design."
Thurgod winced, "I fashioned them, indeed. And they dig very deep, searching for the rarest metal ores. That is why the Sixth Mine is here?"
"Yes."
Where a man might have approached uncomfortably close to the golem, Thurgod did not, but kept his distance of a few paces. "Then why, in the Queen's name, are there men down there? It was so that no men should risk those hot and hateful depths, tunnels and seams that despise mankind and light, that I constructed the augury golems."
"It was ordered that the mining not cease. With the augury golem out of commission I was forced to send worthless men..."
"What? Is it Stallid that is speaking?" Thurgod stepped closer to the silver golem, his nose turned upward, the movement he would make instead of cocking his head when other men squinted to see.
"You know it is."
"Then why do you call them worthless men? I built you to know that... that... that there was not such a thing," said Thurgod, drawing a corner of his nose tense.
"That is what they are called. It is how I know them."
With a sudden motion Thurgod lurched forward, catching the back of the golem's head with his left hand and drawing it down into his shorter forcefully, though with gentleness. Then in an instant he had pulled out the little metal strips again and was carefully investigating their grooves in his hands, and then under his nose. He replaced them carefully and stood Stallid up again.
"Do you remember the day you were fashioned, Stallid?"
"Yes."
"Tell me of it, servant."
"Of course I do not know from where in the ground came my substance. Yet I do remember the heat, as my metal was made hot and fluid, flushed around to take on a shape, though the shape was not mine. And then I arose, still red hot, but solid, and had mind as metal has. I stood before my lady, the great Queen, and there was told my duty. Why do you ask me to tell you this, Master?"
Thurgod's jaw quivered. He asked as though in a dry throat, "Stallid. Has another, besides myself, come and done the work of the smith-god, to change metal by mind? Has another taken out the slats of thought I gave you and changed them?"
"The Queen herself. She has changed me. Why do you ask?"
"Have any died?"
"Any?"
"Any of the," Thurgod mouth moved to spit but his throat to swallow, "worthless men?"
"One has died, as stone gave way above him. Because I knew this would make the Queen angry I sent you the Flying Word requesting a hastier repair."
Thurgod said nothing until he had breathed three times, while the golem stood still with infinite patience. "He was one of the Queen's worthless men, who owe to her a great debt?"
"Yes."
Thurgod breathed once more, then said, "When it rains, Stallid, you must get under a solid cover," and he turned away, Oorgo forgot to walk until the tug on the line that connected him to Thurgod reminded him, and then he bounded ahead.
"Did the golem say that a man died?"
"Yes, he said that." They walked past the squared golem, but it did not move, as Thurgod inhibited it. The two humans passed through the gate.
"One that owed her a great debt?"
"What, child?" Thurgod was recalled from another thought.
"A man who owed her a great debt died?"
"Yes, child."
"I owed her a great debt."
"In her words, child."
Oorgo said nothing, until, "Would I have died?"
"Whether the Queen would have sent a child to the Sixth Mine I cannot know, nor even if she would have known it."
An off-beat breath escaped from Oorgo's nearly heaving chest, and at last Thurgod thought of the mortal beside him.
"It would be better if you made your mind quiet. This is not a thing for you to think."
Oorgo fell sideways, his head flopping into Thurgod's leg. The child did not struggle with his tears.
"There is no need for you to fear today, Oorgo. You have a master who is a god."
"But you can't keep me safe from her, you said it, you said it..." he clutched his arms around Thurgod's knee, and the deity ceased attempts to walk.
"She hates me and my sister and I've said bad things about her and..."
"And she will do nothing about them. Cyllgod is a foolish..." and the Thurgod too collapsed, narrowly missing Oorgo, and they were left there, Thurgod on his knees gasping as he leaned into the child, and the child with his face plunged into the smith god's chest just under his neck.
The two of them knelt there for nearly a minute, the block shaped golem observing without evaluating. At last Thurgod stood up suddenly, and Oorgo leaned again into the god's hip. Thurgod reached down and grasped the side of Oorgo's head. "Now child, it is not good for us to think so. I may not think the true words, and you do not know them. It is best for you to trust me that this is not your fate, and that if it were, it would be well."
"How can it be well?"
"Your question is large. It must be answered while walking."
"I can't walk," said Oorgo, beginning to breathe faster.
"Yes, you can," said the god, "I have seen you, and there is nothing but yourself stopping you."
Oorgo tottered forward, shaking in trepidation.
"Before I answer your question, I will tell you a story."

Beyond the Rim Installment 18

From this point in the West of the city even Oorgo, at his height, could see a fair ways. Because of the elevation of the Way the great road lacked cross-ways, and all traffic moved along its length. Most traffic kept to the outsides, with the center lane reserved for the royal chariots of state. Thurgod and Oorgo kept to the right edge, as foot traffic heading towards the Gate was expected to do. Within a few minutes of starting along the Way, a chariot driven by a servant of Cyllgod and carrying in it one of her demigod agents thundered through the middle of the street.

"Why don't you have a chariot for you, Thurgod?"

"It would be better if you called me Master, child. Others may call me by that name, but you may have a better one."

"But Thurgod's your name. Why can't I call you by your name if everyone else can?"

Thurgod cocked his head once before he got it straight again, but even in that time Oorgo's face went pale. "Because to you the important thing is not that I am called Thurgod, but that I am Master. But I have been a brute and ignored your question. I do not have a chariot because the Queen has not given me one."

"Why can't you have one?"

"Horses are rare, even now."

"But surely a god..."

"There are many gods, have you not seen? Were there not many in the Queen's Court when you went to make your request?"

"But aren't you greater than them?"

"If you want me to answer questions, you must learn to ask them while walking, child."

Oorgo skipped ahead of Thurgod then said again, "But aren't you a greater god than all of them except her?"

"Well, what would make one god greater than another?"

"Being able to do... things!"

Thurgod laughed, and his gait slowed as he did so. "I suppose you mean that I am greater because I can smash metal from one shape to another? Do you think that no one else can do this?"

"And you can make golems! No one else can do that."

"What you say is not strictly true, but nearly enough," he said. As the words left the god's mouth his face might have been seen to wince very briefly, but Oorgo paid no attention, neither did the child see the mirth of the previous question melt completely from the deity's face as he elevated his chin slightly.

"But they can do that thing where they turn into light and fly away. I saw them do it in... what did you call it?"

"Probably the Queen's Court."

"Can you do that?"

"Turn into light? Why would I want to? Light cannot bend metal on this planet."

"What's a planet?"

"It's like a ball of rock very far away up by the stars."

"But can you do it? All of those gods had funny shapes their light came from. Do you have a funny shape inside you?"

"I cannot change into light. And the funny shapes, cores they are called, are only there when a god looks like light."

"How far is it to the Sixth Mine?"

"Long enough that I expect you will ask me that question probably five more times before we get there."

"I wish we had a chariot."

"You might wish it for a moment, child, but from how taught you keep the line I expect you would want to be out of its seat before we got there."

"You said you can see the wheels of the chariots. Are my parents coming here soon?"

"Are your parents made of metal? Or how should I see them?"

"If you could see the wheels..."

"Then how should I know who rides in them? Besides, I cannot see forever. And even did I know I might not tell you that I did."

"Why?"

"I can neither tell you what I know nor why I will not tell it to you."

Oorgo opened his mouth, but Thurgod preempted him, "Nor will I tell you why I will not tell you why I will not tell you, and neither will I be tricked into answering that monosyllabic question again."

"Monoslabbic?"

"Monosyllabic. It means it only little grunt to say it."

New words slowed down Oorgo. They stuck in his mind as he tried to fill them out with memories and unconscious associations as he had done with all other words. Thurgod did not mind the respite from questioning.

Within a few hours the pair had escaped the Way and then the city proper, descending the winding path which trekked across the steep hillside descending from the capital. The Sixth Mine began down below the ridge, slowly eroding the base of the North Spire, which lay at the north extreme of the Gate. By time they had accomplished only a quarter of the descent Oorgo had grown tired, and rode the rest of the way on the shoulders of the smith god.

At the bottom of the track they were greeted by a stone fence, and in it a gap serving as a gate, guarded by a stone golem with a block shaped head. "State your business here, and show your authorization to enter."

Thurgod set Oorgo down and whispered to him, "The golem asks you a question."

Oorgo just stood, staring at the golem and its curiously squared limbs.

"Why are we here, child?"

"To bring this."

"That is what he wants to know."

Oorgo stepped forward. Somehow this machine was more intimidating even than the butcher or Mister Henlick. "I... I am here to bring this."

The golem looked down at him. This was not a phrase it knew. It did not know how to look at a thing and know what it was. It had been given gate duty because it had grown old, and not useful for swinging a pick. But with a silent command from Thurgod's mind it said, "Good. What is your authorization to enter?"

Oorgo looked back at the god. "What does it mean?"

"It wants to know who says you can be here."

"Thurgod, Master Smith, says I can be here," he repeated to the golem.

This command it understood, and after a moment of searching its own mind for the truth it found that indeed, Thurgod had told it from afar that a small boy would be there that evening.

"You may enter," it said, and then resumed its stature looking out from the gate, as it had stood most of each day for dozens of years.

After they passed it, Oorgo asked Thurgod in a whisper, "Is that golem dumber than the other ones?" He looked behind them to be sure it did not here.

"Yes. It was made for swinging a pick, and blocky stone does not hold wisdom well."

"Why doesn't it mine anymore?"

"A fall chipped its right foot, as may have escaped your notice, but enough to make it unworthy of mine work, where a stumble is very dangerous." Then Thurgod raised his voice, "Sallid! Your master needs you here."

Suddenly a tall golem with metal limbs, covered all over in gears, levers, and sliding joints, turned. Its limbs were spindly, thinner in each part than the crystal golems of Cyllgod's house. It strutted over to the pair, other lessor golems adjusting their routes to avoid his as they moved hither and thither carrying loads.

"How can I serve the Master Smith?" the voice clanked. Unlike other golems of a more solid make, Stallid had no definable exterior shell except for the top and front of his head. Where his mouth was to be, as his face was clearly designed, there was a small aperture into a metal box, the most solid thing about him besides the dome which made the top. What wonders went on within the box to produce speech were known only to Thurgod.

"First, you must meet my new mortal servant, the child Oorgo."

Stallid's metal eyes turned unnaturally towards the boy. With the limited dimension of his skull, he occasionally looked through his own head, in this case rolling his eyes downward to look through where a human would have had a jaw.

Thurgod interrupted the golem's greeting, "Have you been out in the rain, Stallid? This is not how I built you to behave."

"No."

"An underground sea, it was then? Have you felt any water lately?"

Stallid's eyes rolled back to look straight at Thurgod, and he knit his brow, "I do not recall meeting water, but is the nature of water that I would forget it. What part of my service is unsatsifactory?"

"You forget to turn your head when you look towards things near you, instead rolling your eyes freely. Humans find that unnerving." Oorgo was clutching Thurgod's leg.

"I am sorry, Master Smith..."

"That is not all, Stallid. You I suppose it was that sent me the Flying Word?"

Oorgo looked up and whispered, "Is that the bug machine with the message?"

Thurgod pointed his face down and said, "Yes," in an undertone.

Stallid responded, "Yes. I had not received a golem part back from you which I desperately needed. I have been forced to great pains without it..."

"You wrote your message on parchment, Stallid."

"Yes, sir. That is how I usually send messages of an official nature."

"You have forgotten, then, that I am the blind god."

"A god, blind?"

Thurgod sighed. "Yes. You must have been in water. You have forgotten to use the metal messages I gave you. Kneel down, Stallid."

Stallid knelt into the dirt without protest, sullying his silver limbs. Thurgod reached into the golems head, then drew out a thin bar of metal, covered all over in tiny grooves. He blew on it, then into the compartment from whence it came, and the rust scraped off.

The smith god replaced the thin bar, and then did this action seven more times on other little bars. At last he replaced the last one and said, "Stand up, Stallid."

The golem stood, and for a moment its eyes flicked about, but never beyond their expected places. It even moved its head down to look at Oorgo, and then back up again. It clanked, "It is good. It is like a haze has been blown away. I see much better now."

"May I leave this part with you and have you replace it, Stallid? I am eager to return home."

Stallid reached down and accepted the golem piece from Oorgo. "Yes, this will be easy. When I have done so, I will tell the men to come up from that mine as the golem returns."

Thurgod had begun to turn when he arrested his own movement. He turned back to Stallid and said, "Repeat that. Are you sure the haze is gone?"

"Yes, and you would know better than I. I said I would bring the men back up from that mine when this golem was ready to return."

Oorgo did not like the expression which Thurgod's metal-marred face took on at that moment.