The Minstrel Boy paused for a moment, then climbed slowly to his feet.
‘Okay, okay, I’ll come that far with you, but one thing’s got to be clear, right?’
‘What’s that?’
The Minstrel Boy nodded towards Jeb Stuart Ho.
‘I ain’t going to get involved in any more of his deals. I don’t want him anywhere near me.’
Jeb Stuart Ho looked at the ground.
‘I’m sorry you feel that way.’
‘Don’t even talk about it.’
Jeb Stuart Ho looked helplessly at the Wanderer. He shrugged and slowly turned and started walking away. Ho, and finally the Minstrel Boy, followed him. They walked along parallel to the river. All the men maintained a certain distance between each other. Nobody spoke. Every so often, they would pass the ruined, burned-out hulk of another vehicle that had been destroyed by the globes. There was no sign of any people.
There was no great hardship involved in walking to the ziggurat. The river lowlands had been designed as a natural near-paradise. Once they’d left the last of the wrecks behind, the countryside was almost idyllic. Butterflies and small birds flitted above the long, lush, gently waving grass. The river moved calmly along beside them, reflecting the bright sunlight and the deep blue, cloudless sky. Even the distant view of the blue-grey, mist-shrouded mountain was almost too good to be true.
After a while, they could see the ziggurat further down the river. Even from some distance away there was no mistaking its vast size and complexity. Although it was roughly pyramid-shaped, it was a mass of ramps, stairs, stepped walls and flat roofs at different levels. Here and there, the even blackness of the stone was broken up by a small patch of green where plants were being grown on a section of roof. There were also flashes of silver where a stream of water ran down a complicated system of channels from a fountain high up near the summit of the structure.
As they came nearer to the ziggurat, the meadow land gave way to a system of small, square, cultivated fields, divided by hedges and irrigation ditches. They crossed a path that appeared to lead straight towards the massive building, and turned on to it. Men were working in some of the fields. They all seemed to have a similar build and very uniform features. They all wore the same kind of one-piece faded blue robe, and their heads were either shaved or totally bald. Each time Jeb Stuart Ho and his two companions passed one of the men, they looked up, smiled, and then went back to their work. It reminded Jeb Stuart Ho of his time at the brotherhood temple and, despite his carefully programmed sense of caution, he felt himself filled with a strong sensation of wellbeing.
The others seemed to pick up some of the same atmosphere. Despite the early bad feeling they moved closer together, and the Minstrel Boy even took off his jacket and tossed it across his shoulder. Jeb Stuart Ho had never seen him look so relaxed.
They started meeting more of the local people. They passed them on the path, wheeling barrows, carrying bundles or simply moving from one field to another with forks or hoes over their shoulders. None of them spoke to the travellers, but they all flashed them the happy instant smile. Jeb Stuart Ho wasn’t too surprised at the extreme similarity between all the men, this was common in many closed communities. The brotherhood all looked very much alike, although not to the extent of the men of Quahal. What puzzled him was that they all appeared to be roughly the same age. There were no children, no youths and no old men. Everyone he had seen appeared to be between twenty and thirty.
They reached the foot of the ziggurat. There was nothing that could be described as a main entrance. There were at least four arched doorways in the wall nearest to them, plus half a dozen small square openings, also two ramps, and three sets of steps. Jeb Stuart Ho looked round at the Wanderer.
‘Do you have any idea where we should go?’
The Wanderer shook his head.
‘No idea.’
He turned to the Minstrel Boy.
‘Would you know?’
The Minstrel Boy looked at him, hesitated, and then shook his head.
‘I don’t know nothing.’
They walked round to the next side of the square base. Here again they were confronted with another choice of stairs and entrances. Jeb Stuart Ho looked round helplessly. The Minstrel Boy grinned.
‘You could always go inside and just wander about.’
Jeb Stuart Ho looked hard at him.
‘I hardly think that would be suitable behaviour.’
The Minstrel Boy shrugged. Jeb Stuart Ho approached a man who was walking past with a bundle tied to his back.
‘Excuse me, friend, but would you tell me where I might find someone in authority?’
The man smiled at Jeb Stuart Ho.
‘There is no authority except the blessed one.’
The man walked on. The Minstrel Boy burst out laughing and staggered round in small circles. Jeb Stuart Ho looked perplexed. He tried again. He went up to a blue-robed figure pushing a wheelbarrow.
‘Where might I find the blessed one?’
The barrow pusher smiled.
‘The blessed one is with all of us, my brother.’
The Minstrel Boy reeled over and slapped Jeb Stuart Ho on the back.
‘They’re worse than you are.’
Jeb Stuart Ho stared at him in surprise.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
The Minstrel Boy was almost helpless with laughter.
‘No, of course you don’t.’
Jeb Stuart Ho looked round in confusion. He wondered how he could convey what he wanted. He stretched out and caught hold of a passing blue robe.
‘Can you help me, please?’
The wearer turned and smiled.
‘In what way, my brother?’
‘We are travellers from outside Quahal. We would like shelter, food and some particular information.’
‘You are travellers?’
That’s correct.’
The blue-robed young man frowned.
‘I have never encountered travellers before. Perhaps if you could wait here while I go and seek guidance on the matter …’
Jeb Stuart Ho nodded. The young man hurried away. They waited. The black stone threw back the heat of the sun. The blue-robed figures came and went all round them. They paused and smiled, but otherwise paid no attention to the three strangers. Jeb Stuart Ho stared up at the vast building. He had never seen anything so impressive. It towered above him, an irregular but harmonious blend of stairs, rectangular vertical walls, sloping ramps and huge inset slabs of relief carving, soaring to the eventual peak hundreds of metres in the air.
The Minstrel Boy didn’t share his enthusiasm. He stuck his thumbs in his belt and kicked at the paving stones.
‘I got a feeling I ain’t going to like this place.’
The Wanderer grinned at him.
‘You could always try the mountain.’
The Minstrel Boy grinned ruefully.
‘I think I’ll stick with this one, for now.’
Two men in yellow robes appeared at the head of the nearest flight of stairs. They were older than the ones in blue, and looked as though they were enjoying a tanned, healthy middle age. Each time one of the younger men passed them, they acknowledged his formal, bowed-head salute. They hurried down the steps and walked quickly up to Jeb Stuart Ho.
‘You are the travellers?’
Jeb Stuart Ho bowed stiffly from the waist.
‘We are.’
‘The blessed Joachim is considering granting you an audience. We can offer you food and other minimal comforts until he has reached his decision. If you will follow us.’
The two yellow-robed individuals turned smartly and walked briskly back towards the steps. The three travellers followed them. The Minstrel Boy glanced sideways at the Wanderer.
‘What do you think they mean by minimal comforts?’
‘Doubtless we’ll find out soon enough.’