Transcendent 3, page 20
I am returning to this letter in the evening, having experienced the most peculiar thing. It is this. I followed the cockroachy map up the slopes, not entirely sure I was on the right track—there are, after all, many slopes here—but I was on the right track, it seems, for I saw here and there, stamped into the black veins of nearly flat verticality of rock, golden hoof-prints. I believe I am supposed now to marvel how a goat could have kept its footing on such a steep surface, but back at home even ordinary goats can perch on the strangest of things—the tops of pitched tents, for example—and so I cannot quite muster the artful sense of astonishment. Nonetheless, I let myself be guided up the cliffs by the tracks themselves, golden and shimmering with the residue of magic. I have already found many wonders here:
First, a heap of triangular black stones, peppered here and there with golden pebbles in strings of ones, twos, threes, fours, and even fives; signifying, I think, deepnames and the structures they make. When I tried to touch the golden pebbles, the stones moved with a bell-like clang, in such a way that no golden pebbles could be seen. It was, I think, a learning shape of magical geometry, but what I was supposed to learn I do not know;
Then, a stream, its water clear and dark; at the bottom of it I perceived the shining of a discarded golden goatskin. I tried to reach it with my hands, but the goatskin separated into strips of fur and leather, and swam through my fingers as fishes. They splashed, then dove deeper where I could not reach them;
And finally, a tree, gnarled and bent, under which I am now sitting to write. The boughs of this tree bear large fruit I have never before seen, each like a small golden gourd with an elongated neck and a rounded belly. I touched one, and heard the sounds of juice sloshing inside. I know exactly what you’d say to me, and you would be right that I am eager to try one—however, right at this moment, a goat—
Dearest Marvushi—
I have previously sent you three other letters to which I received no reply, but I simply assumed that my letters were too slow to catch up with you. I have now received a letter from you without ending or perhaps, with a rather abrupt ending, and I am becoming concerned. I am sending this diamond construct—I am not best with such constructs, as you know. I put as much power into it as I could, one could even say excessively, but I wanted to make sure it would reach you, and fast. Respond, please.—TR, Intersecting Planes House, Katra, etc.
P.S. It’s probably too late to hope you did not drink the juice.
(Scribbled on a goatskin fragment found in a dusty cave)
Don’t do it!—The Old Royal
Forgive, me, friend, I am a bit frazzled. All will be explained in a moment, or as many moments as it takes to scribble this on only a moderately scorched parchment… Thank Bird for diamonds! But let me backtrack…
(Scribbled all around on the margins of the parchment:)
It is perhaps my cheerful demeanor that lets people assume I do not take necessary precautions, but let me assure you that I do—it is unnecessary precautions that bore me and therefore need to be avoided at all cost).
I am backtracking: I was contemplating the sloshing fruit when an old-looking goat with a beard of white and hair of gold appeared out of nowhere, ambling amicably on the narrow path between the cliffs. It bleated, but made no move to either approach or attack me. Instead, it pulled upon one of the gourd-like fruit and slurped on it, then turned to me with a contented expression, as if inviting me to give it a try. So I did. The juice that sloshed inside the fruit was smooth and golden. I should have, perhaps, refused the goat’s invitation to sample the drink because, quite abruptly, I was on my back. Above me was the face of the goat, crowned in stars as the sky overhead grew dark. Around the goat’s neck I saw a necklace of familiar triangular rocks, spaced here and there with a smooth golden pebble.
You think I should have refused the drink? But if I would, my friend, I would have missed the rest of the adventure—and what would be the point of that?
Onwards! I came to in a small cave, the low ceiling of which was splendidly strung with deepname simulations made of igneous rock and colored reeds; I thought wistfully of advanced Magical Geometry lessons, and tests one might undergo with exactly such constructs, but alas! I was no longer on the Tiles. I was in a cave, which smelled quite strongly of an old wet goat.
I turned my neck—it was quite stiff—and saw a person, thin and old, wearing Lepalese-style wide lilac robes with embroidered white goats, and a Keshet-style conical hat almost as tall as the ceiling. They were Lepalese by the look of them, with a long white beard and piercing dark eyes. Seeing that I was awake, they frowned at me. “Why did you seek to come here?”
“I am looking for goats,” I said promptly. “Magical goats only, please. Magical goats that built a magical wall.”
There was a flash of reddish light, and an exquisite, small ruby construct appeared in the dim air of the cave. As the ruby construct rotated, a small folded parchment fell out of it. I strained towards it, but the stranger caught it and shook it open.
“Don’t do it,” they read out loud. “Signed: The Old Royal. Hm. Written on goatskin,” they said with great distaste. “I assume you are the addressee?”
Their tone felt menacing to me, and I was becoming a bit flustered. “Well, you see, Professor Meri e Meri at the University on the Tiles…”
“I knew it!!” the stranger cried out. “A spy from Che Mazri! The Old Royal will learn nothing here!”
They raised their left hand and snatched a deepname simulation from the ceiling, a construct of long reeds imbued with sudden light, and flung it at me. I evaded with some difficulty, and as I did so, I recognized the simulation as the Warlord’s Binding, used in combat but also—ahem—for the much more agreeable and pleasant bindings—and so, without further ado, I engaged my own configuration to make the Safe Names structure, which promptly collapsed my opponent’s.
The stranger, who now appeared angrier, grabbed yet another simulation from their ceiling array—a complex Warlord derivative of two interlocking triangles; and again I counter-acted with a solution that disabled it.
The third structure was bizarre and complex, all sharp angles of two-and-five syllables jutting out from a central rotating cube. It was marvelous—marvelous—so fast and dangerous and odd that my mind began working at twice the regular speed: I spun a one-three, and then a one-five, and then a simulation of my own configuration of one-three-five, and made a triangle that pierced and shattered their cube.
It was, apparently, some kind of a box construct, because a scroll fell out of it and into my hands.
“Give that back!” they bellowed. “No spy, no matter how clever, will get the test-passing map!”
“I passed fair and square, or at least, fair and triangular!” I shouted back, not to be deterred, for I had a feeling I knew where that map would lead me. Besides, I am always delighted to pass academic tests! I am no spy and I will most certainly not give it back!”
“Bird butt you! And if Bird won’t, I will!” They jumped up and down, and then in their place was no longer a person, but a gigantic, bearded, necklaced, angry-looking goat familiar from under the tree. Bright, buzzing structures of magic rose off the old goat’s hide, complex simulations of light much more advanced than anything I’ve ever studied.
I darted to and fro, but the goat blocked my way to the exit. And just as it reared up to pierce me with its flaming horns, the delicious thrill of finding myself in a desperate situation was suddenly cut short as there was a blinding flash, followed by a floating diamond construct of clearest light!
I shielded my eyes just in time, richly familiar with your style of delivery, but the learned goat did not take this most necessary of precautions. Your letter flopped—forgive me, made a majestic appearance—out of the diamond. The goat was busy bleating from the pain in its eyes. I used the moment to snatch up your letter and run for my life, and that feat, I am happy to report, was successful.
And so, my friend, having passed a magical-geomerical test despite the bleating guardian’s resistance, I find myself in possession of a map that will lead me, I believe, higher up the Ravaha Mountains and towards the ultimate goats. I’ll send you this missive back with the diamond construct. I got the Teacher’s ruby, too, but I’m not sending you that.
Yours in and out of various bindings,
Marvushi
upon some cliffs—
Ravaha Mountains
Dearest Teacher: got your note. I’m alive, I am (almost entirely) well, and—forgive me?—I am pressing on!—Marvushi e Garazd
Dearest T,
Please do not be either alarmed or overly amused by the smudges of blood on this scroll, the wounds are minor and unintentional, though well worth what I am about to narrate.
So: I followed the test-passing map up the increasingly steep slopes of the Ravaha mountains. I will not bore you with descriptions of scenery except that I found the most vividly sweet, purple wild grapes clinging for bare life on gnarled vines—I remembered your stories of your parent’s mountain vineyard—you will find some of the seeds enclosed! They gave me most beautiful dreams. In any case, the climb seemed endless. I slept in caves and under the bare sky, greeted only by snakes and lizards who, sadly, for all their friendliness, were entirely lacking in deepnames.
One night I noticed, from afar, a sparkling in the air far ahead of me. I continued my climb by day, and the following night the sparkling grew more pronounced: I saw a star that shot up into the darkness and faded.
Encouraged by the sight, I continued my climb in the morning. That day I kept hearing sighs from below, and an occasional clanging, as if someone was following me, but I saw no-one. I climbed as fast as I could until I came to a high, jagged place which afforded me a splendid view of a nearby crevasse between two almost vertical expanses of cliff. An extraordinary sight filled my eyes, and it wasn’t the steepness of the rocks or the bottomless chasm between them. It was goats—dozens of goats, most of them older-looking and somehow…dignified, who were hanging for dear life on the steepest and smoothest of rocks, bleating quietly at each other, as if conversing between themselves.
Tajer! You would not believe what happened next! At least, I could not believe it! A buzzing wall of magic shimmered in the chasm, but I would not call it a wall, for it zig-zagged and shifted between these rocks. I saw it rotate from vertical to tilted to horizontal, connecting the two sides of rock like a bridge. At that brief moment of horizontal connection, a goat jumped upon the shimmering surface. It was a large, brown-and-white goat with very long horns, which just a moment ago appeared statuesque, as if carved into the cliff and the air—but then it jumped, somewhat inelegantly, upon the shimmering wall-bridge and—BOUNCED!
It bounced on the light of the magical wall, as if on a trampoline, a string of deepnames flaring between its horns as it bellowed a gleeful “WHEEEE!!!”and catapulted straight into the sky!
The goaty spectators bleated in approval. The wall rotated again, not touching the sides of the cliff.
“Hey, you!” someone shouted at me in Lepalese. “Hey, kid!” They used that auspicious Lepalese word that signified both a young goat and youngster. “Are you new? Did Drorovaka send you?”
I blinked, and—by Bird—what I thought was one of the goats, a red-pelted elegant one with two spirals of sparkling horns, appeared now as a person, dressed in a red robe embroidered with stars which, I was quite sure, signified academic distinctions at the Mountain Academy of Keshet. This person had Lepalese-brown skin, somewhat lighter than mine, and their long hair was arranged in two elaborate curving braids. I’d swear just a second ago they were a goat! But I wasn’t about to waste valuable time contemplating that. I brandished the test-passing map at them and shouted, “I passed! I passed!”
At that moment the magical wall rotated again, and the catapulting brown-and-white goat returned, bouncing off the now-angled surface and scrambling back onto the cliff with the other goats.
The red-robed person yelled at me, “Jump to it, then! Jump on the wall!”
I hesitated, because something told me Drorovaka—if that was truly the name of my tester-adversary from the cave—did not teach me what I needed to know. “I do not know how to transform into a goat!” I shouted back.
“Well, what do you have?” responded the red-robed person.
I was quite sure they meant my deepname configuration, so I yelled back, “The Ghost Pyramid!” and heard back the kind of excited bleating which often accompanies my revelation among academics—well, not bleating as such, but excitement in any case, because my deepname configuration is extremely rare.
“Well, get over here, kid, and I’ll teach you!” yelled the red-robed person.
I ran closer—of course I did, what else would you have me do??—and the moment the wall rotated to horizontal, I jumped on it! And oh, the rush of magic, the unbelievable golden sweeping rush as my deepnames became engaged on their own accord. I catapulted up into the air, having in my excitement entirely forgotten that a HORIZONTAL surface will send me straight UP, rather than across!
As I plummeted higher and higher, shouting “WHEE!!” on the top of my lungs, I saw the old goat from the cave—Drorovaka—emerge on the cliff I just left and flow into a shape of a person.
They shouted across the chasm at the red-robed person: “What are you doing, Menriri? This is a spy—a spy from the Old Royal, from the University on the Tiles…”
“They’re just a kid, they did not look a spy to me,” shouted back the one called Menriri, their voice growing fainter as I soared even higher. I whooshed into the air and back down again, the shimmering wall rapidly growing under my feet as Drorovaka shouted, “…unworthy to join, let alone witness the ultimate transformation of professor to goat!!”
At that, Drorovaka aimed a rather threatening wand at me, buzzing with single-syllable deepnames.
Now, I’ve been around, and know how to make a good use of my extremely rare magical configuration. I rotated the Ghost Pyramid frantically and used it to evade Drorovaka’s aim and to slow my fall just until the horizontal surface came up again and I BOUNCED! UP! AGAIN!
When I came back down, the goats were gone and the chasm was FULL of professors, yes, mostly FULL professors from the Lepalese Right-Arm University and the Mountain Academy of Keshet, with their long robes and their braids and their hats of distinction and their powerful deepname configurations engaged—all of them were now bouncing off the rapidly rotating wall, unable to cling to the vertical cliff in their human form.
And as they bounced they shouted …“unworthy…”
and some shouted…“worthy!!!”
“…of joining the Secret Goat Society!”
And some were following Drorovaka’s lead by trying to shape their deepnames into magical assaults on my person, though this was hard to accomplish while also bouncing in the air while trying to preserve a shred of venerability, let alone academic dignity!
Now, Tajer, I would have loved to stay, but I am not actually reckless despite what they might have told you; so I used the Ghost Pyramid again to calibrate my descent, barely avoiding a few catapulting figures, and bounced at an angle and AWAY from it all, over some cliffs and between rocks. The rotating structure I created out of the Ghost Pyramid could barely cushion my fall, but luckily for all involved (primarily for me), I am quite agile and so I made my way down with only minor bruises.
I am now taking a break to convey to you the marvelous wonders I have seen and the utter glory of Bird, or at least of the Southern Academies—excluding, alas, my own University on the Tiles, which for some reason is regarded in suspicion among the goat academics. I will now tend to a few more of my scrapes, and will write back to you once I return triumphant to Professor Meri e Meri and our Teacher the Old Royal, having completed at last my research assignment!
Yours gleefully,
Marvushi e Garazd
upon some other cliffs—
Ravaha Mountains
My dear Marvushi,
I assure you that I am in no way amused, let alone overly amused, by the evidence of the wounds you sustained while bouncing away from goat-shaped Lepalese academics. I am not offended by the implication only because I am chalking it up to your post-adventure buzz.
Thank you for the seeds you sent me. Unfortunately, these are not grapes but balata, which is utterly useless in the manufacturing of wine—though it does indeed give you pretty dreams when used in moderation. While I cannot plant and harvest it for you, my friend, I have started a vintage which I am naming Goaty Bits in your honor; hope you will enjoy my labor when you finally visit me here (I would prefer you used a method other than catapulting.)
I hope that you are now safely ensconced in your rooms on the Tiles, and that you are enjoying having passed your advanced seminar. Congratulations on completing your journey! I assume it would be pointless for me to strongly urge you never to do this again.
TR
Katra, and so on
Dearest T.,
Well, I have good news and bad news. I’ll start with the bad. Returning to Che Mazri, I discovered the meaning of my dreams of Professor Meri e Meri and the Old Royal together discouraging me from my task, and following that the Old Royal’s letter inside the ruby construct:
Shortly after I departed for the Ravaha Mountains, these two academic luminaries convened together. Having conducted a thorough follow-up on my somewhat hasty archival research, they came upon conclusive evidence that the wall-building goats were members of an exclusive club of academics from Keshet and Lepaleh. The relations between Keshet and Lepalese academies on one hand, and the University on the Tiles on the other, have been rather strained for the last three hundred years; and so our Teacher and Meri e Meri attempted to deter me from disturbing the congregation—first by dream-sendings, and then by letters. The failure of their attempts to stop me did not earn me a warm welcome upon my return—not even from Garazd, who was still moping that I had left in the first place.
