Wanderers' Library by Various Authors

Author:Various Authors
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-03-01T17:43:40+00:00

Mahabodhi

Even dead Cities have a pulse. A faint, almost nonexistent one, to be sure, but a pulse is a pulse. It throbs just below the surface of the streets, behind the walls of the buildings, in the broken lamposts. It permeates brick and wood and steel and stone. And if you close your eyes, and sit in the Center of the City, and truly listen, you may hear it. The rhythm that forms in the scramble of rodents, and the clink of falling metal, and a wanderer's breath. Even in dead Cities, life persists.

The man had been in the Center for many days and heard nothing. This did not bother him. He knew that finding the pulse took time. He had done it before, in other cities. None had taken this long, but patience was one of the gods' Great Gifts to Man. The waiting meant little to him.

While he waited, creatures of the city came to watch him. Someone at the Center was a curious sight. Someone remaining at the Center for almost a week was unheard of. One by one, the citizens took their turns examining him. He did not mind. A Squirrel, fur grey and matted with mud, would approach, sniff, and scurry away. A Shadow would watch from the edges of a building before slipping back into the darkness. Ravens and Sparrows flocked overhead.

Not all came to watch. On the second day, Roan, Slumlord of the East, approached. He had heard rumors of this new citizen, and they disturbed him.

“Speak your business,” he said, and his voice cracked the air. His fangs gnashed as he spoke, and his talons pierced the asphalt.

The man did not respond. He did not move. He barely breathed.

“This is my City. Your presence is a violation of the Sixth Immutability. If you do not leave, I will cut your throat and bleed your corpse above my throne.”

The man did not speak. He lifted a single finger to the sky.

“If you have something to say, say it,” spat Roan. Flecks of his saliva spattered the concrete, and blue smoke rose from them. “Don't waste my time with riddles.”

At this, the man spoke. “I am the Sky's warden, and She protects me. Come no closer, Slumlord.”

Roan ground his teeth, and swore, and beat the buildings with his fists, but came no closer. He knew what attacking a warden of Sky could bring. For all Roan's roaring and fuming, the man did not move or speak, so the slumlord crawled back into the City.

The next day, he returned, with a new plan. He stood at the edge of the Center, and called to the man. “I know what you're looking for, interloper. You won't find it here. The pulse is not in the Center. It's in the roads, and walls, and corpses. Come, walk with me, and I will show you.”

The man did not move. Roan did not expect him to.

“There is more than just the pulse within my slum,” said Roan, and from his cloak he pulled a bag.

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