Descending Road - STRANGE AROMAS CLAIMED US by Dana W. Paxson

STRANGE AROMAS CLAIMED US

1560 4D

“We’re taking Shaft Arbonel to the surface,” said Jeddin. “No one uses it except the street children.”

“The shafts?” Masinarin wrinkled his nose. “They’re awful. One slip and you’re dead in the sewage at the bottom.”

“Do you have a better idea?” My father spoke up.

The ancient shafts were round, and had helical staircases carved in their walls, ascending around the emptiness from level to level. There were no handrails. If you fell into the shaft, you’d die. The steps were coated with bacterial slime. They were never patrolled. “It’s all we’ve got,” I said. “Unless you want to take the lifts, where the blues are always monitoring.”

Silence. The Drasstar said, “Fine, then. Let’s go.”

We trudged wearily up the last turn of stairs in Shaft Arbonel, gulping the thinning air of its heights. A strange powerful light broke onto our faces. “What is that?” I asked.

My father’s face glowed. He said, “The sun.” At the top landing, twenty thousand steps up from our world, we looked through a ruined rusted door into a shining morning. A great wind whistled up out of the shaft, sucking us toward the rust holes we peered through.

Drasstar forced the door open. We stepped out onto green grass. My first time. Before us lay a long vast hillside. A seamed stone building, the entrance to the shaft we had climbed, stood behind us on the slope, its weathered surface centuries old. A flight of birds dipped and swerved away, and far to the north I saw… mountains.

“Let’s rest for a bit,” Jeddin said. “They’ll start looking up here for us in a few more hours, but we need a break.” He stretched his arms wide and yawned, and his square white face softened with a sunlit smile.

My heart rose in me, with tears. “Drasstar, try this,” I said. Thringe‘s last lyric came back to me. “The light breaks into two/people. The slamming door/flings it back at me, makes/me whole for one more day.”

Drasstar unslung his jitar-case, and tried some chords. “Good. Here.” We went back and forth as a breeze washed past us, stirring the grass. Rashua and Naudi rolled, laughing, on the slope. Grioskin tapped a rhythm on his thigh, inhaling deeply and smiling. Masinarin sat down, unslung his beamer, and lay back in the morning sunlight, his face content. My father stood quietly beside me. His cough was gone.

Clouds soared soft above us like pale groomed hair. The air was clear of the City smell; now earth and grass and other stranger aromas claimed us.

“Come on,” Jeddin said at last. “I know an andro inn, a safe place half a day’s walk out from here. It’s a long way to dinner, and you’ll have to sing to eat. And I’ve got a friend there who plays the knife game with me, for money. Follow me.” He started jauntily off down the slope, toward a faint distant track. Two people walked it, carrying packs and gesturing to each other.

“Thringe would have liked this,” Drasstar said softly.

“Yes,” said my father.

A pleased stirring came in me. “She still does,” I said. “And she always will.”

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	STRANGE AROMAS CLAIMED US 1560 4D “We’re taking Shaft Arbonel to the surface,” said Jeddin. “No one uses it except the street children.” “The shafts?” Masinarin wrinkled his nose. “They’re awful. One slip and you’re dead in the sewage at the bottom.” “Do you have a better idea?” My father spoke up. The ancient shafts were round, and had helical staircases carved in their walls, ascending around the emptiness from level to level. There were no handrails. If you fell into the shaft, you’d die. The steps were coated with bacterial slime. They were never patrolled. “It’s all we’ve got,” I said. “Unless you want to take the lifts, where the blues are always monitoring.” Silence. The Drasstar said, “Fine, then. Let’s go.” We trudged wearily up the last turn of stairs in Shaft Arbonel, gulping the thinning air of its heights. A strange powerful light broke onto our faces. “What is that?” I asked. My father’s face glowed. He said, “The sun.” At the top landing, twenty thousand steps up from our world, we looked through a ruined rusted door into a shining morning. A great wind whistled up out of the shaft, sucking us toward the rust holes we peered through. Drasstar forced the door open. We stepped out onto green grass. My first time. Before us lay a long vast hillside. A seamed stone building, the entrance to the shaft we had climbed, stood behind us on the slope, its weathered surface centuries old. A flight of birds dipped and swerved away, and far to the north I saw… mountains. “Let’s rest for a bit,” Jeddin said. “They’ll start looking up here for us in a few more hours, but we need a break.” He stretched his arms wide and yawned, and his square white face softened with a sunlit smile. My heart rose in me, with tears. “Drasstar, try this,” I said. Thringe‘s last lyric came back to me. “The light breaks into two/people. The slamming door/flings it back at me, makes/me whole for one more day.” Drasstar unslung his jitar-case, and tried some chords. “Good. Here.” We went back and forth as a breeze washed past us, stirring the grass. Rashua and Naudi rolled, laughing, on the slope. Grioskin tapped a rhythm on his thigh, inhaling deeply and smiling. Masinarin sat down, unslung his beamer, and lay back in the morning sunlight, his face content. My father stood quietly beside me. His cough was gone. Clouds soared soft above us like pale groomed hair. The air was clear of the City smell; now earth and grass and other stranger aromas claimed us. “Come on,” Jeddin said at last. “I know an andro inn, a safe place half a day’s walk out from here. It’s a long way to dinner, and you’ll have to sing to eat. And I’ve got a friend there who plays the knife game with me, for money. Follow me.” He started jauntily off down the slope, toward a faint distant track. Two people walked it, carrying packs and gesturing to each other. “Thringe would have liked this,” Drasstar said softly. “Yes,” said my father. A pleased stirring came in me. “She still does,” I said. “And she always will.”