Since Wood Cows refused to draw lottery numbers, Emil had no climbing date attached to his name. He liked that. It was a slight comfort to remain aloof from the Maev Astuté project, which he despised.
Maev Astuté was more than the ancestral home of the High Ones, the Hedgeland’s royal family. It was also a royal tomb, with each of the High Ones buried in the castle. It was believed that by this means, they each would one day become gods. Construction of the fantastic castle never ended. Continuing generation after generation, the castle rose higher into the sky. With the reign of each new High One, Maev Astuté rose more sharply into the sky as a new level was added. Each level served as the home of the High One and his royal court. When he died he was buried in a magnificent burial chamber on his level. The life work of each Hedgeland monarch was to build a new level, to serve as the home and tomb of the succeeding High One.
The great construction project had begun in the barely remembered times before even the Forever End was planted. Ancient traditions told of a day when the great castle spire would be “forever visible.” In that day, Maev Astuté would so dominate the skies that “the heavens themselves would be but vassals of the High Ones.” The line of High Ones would form an unbroken link between the earth and the very heavens themselves. On the day the great castle became “forever visible” the line of High Ones would be divinely reborn and they would return to rule the earth. For loyal Hedgies, the sight of Maev Astuté year-by-year rising into the sky was a promise of future glory. On clear days, the fantastic castle sparkled brilliantly in the sun, its highly-polished white marble a dazzling spark of light high above everything else. Inexorably it climbed higher and higher into the heavens.
While a few Hedgies might complain about the brutal conditions of the climb—as they went skulking in the shadows, muttering under their breath—everyone knew that complaining about the climb was at best bad manners, and at worst, dangerous.
Wood Cows did not complain—they simply refused to go. The price of that refusal was to confirm the Wood Cows’ status as social outcasts, despised and cut off from every social benefit and every esteemed profession. In the eyes of most Hedgies, Wood Cows were Zanuck—“fly droppings” in Kinshy—and treated with contempt. In the Hedgie world, there was nothing lower and more contemptible than one who refused the sacred climb.
Just slightly above the Zanuck were the Poolytuck—“sitters” or “loafers”—beasts who did not oppose the climb but were too old or weak to undertake the ordeal. Being unable to climb to Maev Astuté was a great humiliation. Although allowed to choose a standin, only the weakest Poolytuck did so. Mockery and indignities of every sort were heaped upon the Poolytucks. Accepting this humiliating treatment was better, however, than the alternative that awaited any Poolytuck who dared complain about the taunts and unchallenged cheating of merchants against them. The fate of those Poolytucks was to be carried up the mountain by the Royal Patrol and heaved into a deep glacier crevasse.
“It’s a miserable night, and a black life, friend,” LeftWit-70114 wheezed as if a he had only a teaspoon of air to spare for an entire sentence. “Yet, tomorrow I begin the sacred climb.”
“Aye, it’s a night not favorable for any beast,” Emil agreed. “But tomorrow you’ll not be on the mountain,” he continued. “You’re hardly fit to lift a mug. Tomorrow, you’ll be walking in the sun toward O’Fallon’s Bluff, carrying my pack and coins back to my father and sister. I’ll be climbing the mountain in your place.” Emil’s tone, his look, his words—all expressed a resolute recklessness that would not be turned aside. “I will climb for you, as one of the standins that even the cruelty of the High One allows for a Poolytuck. You will go to O’Fallon’s Bluff and finish my duty to my family. You can rest there until you recover your health.”
And so it was that Emil found himself on the sacred climb—and turned the entire Wood Cow way of life on its head...
Broken Across the Rocks
FoRoar-2036 gasped for breath, struggling to climb the steps in the biting cold. Every muscle in his body protested. He was too tired to go on. Every sense told him he was too weak to continue. Yet, still he went on, his breath shooting out in great white clouds. Gasps of moist breath, instantly shock-frozen into icy puffs, marked his progress. He clutched his sacred stone tightly to his chest. The heavy stone made it hard to keep his balance on the ice-covered stairway, worn to a slippery gloss by the constant pad of reed-boots passing over the ice.