Today marks the launch of the latest issue of Andromeda Spaceways Magazine, and the fourth story I’ve sold to them. Any Step Forward is my satirical take on religion, poverty, charity, and hats… many, many hats.
Update 11/5/2024: original story is still paywalled in Issue 94, but the text of it is included in this post below the image for those who want to read it for eligibility requirements (it’s past the period of exclusivity now).
Andromeda Spaceways Magazine Issue 94
The blood stains on the rocks were fresh, but I could see no body. Bad luck, that.
Bad luck followed me to this place, high in the mountain passes, far from the village where I’d lived. I’d had nothing but bad luck for the past few days, and it seemed it would continue. Shalesh be damned, I’d been born into bad luck.
I did not curse out loud, though. The seventy seventh line of the Vella said only weak-willed beings curse. I did not know if God spoke truth through the book of the Vella, but religion is a thing hard to shake once you have grown. I clasped my hands above my head and bowed north—what I thought might be north at least, the clouds obscuring the sun—and thanked the Vella for its wisdom.
It seemed obvious what had happened. The Mogul, that villainous bastard, had not paid enough to guard the roads of the empire as well as he should. Someone had, like me, stepped off the trail to relieve themselves. Someone else had seen fit to drive a blade into them and take all that they carried, leaving behind a few empty sacks. The body had likely been dragged to the cliff’s edge and tossed over.
I no longer felt a need to piss. I turned to make the short climb up to the narrow trail when I noticed the object that would change my fortunes.
Whomever had robbed him, they’d left his hat.
Luck is tricky. Luck shifts like the winds in a mountain pass. After twenty-seven years of life, mine turned from bad to good in an instant.
The hat was nothing more than a black, oval tapit, which would lie flat and close to the head. But, even a hat as simple as a tapit gave its wearer status we Vella followers scarce dared dream of. It marked the victim as a member of the Kudekhi faith. That made his murder more unfortunate. Good people, intelligent, but not wealthy. Not full citizens, but accorded some rights due to their honor. Their temples were cold, drab stone, with no trace of gold or precious gems. A robber likely got little for their efforts.
But it was better than no hat, and, as a worshipper of Vella, I had none. By rights, I should have worn a grand chaptereua, but the Capishions who had taken me in and given me a home as an orphaned child had, themselves, been murdered, leaving me on the street with only the disciples of Vella to provide me some sense of family and faith.
I took it and placed it upon my head. Any step forward, so said line one hundred and seventy-five of the Vella. Beggaring as a Vellan disciple had proven a difficult career, and I knew it would take little to pretend to be Kudekhi. I’d begged outside their temples, so I knew the right words to mouth, the proper greetings to perform, how to swing the incense log. Should I be discovered, at best I would be beat and sent on my way.
Small risks make for important gains. Line one thousand and eighty-two.
I returned to the trail, whistling as I walked. My worn sandals no longer allowed every sharp stone to dig into the bottom of my feet. My thin robe no longer let as much of the cruel, cold wind on this barren mountain pass chill me. Strange how a hat could change your entire view of life.
Not long later, I passed a Kudekhi merchant going the opposite way, his mule laden with full sacks of grain as he walked in front. I grew worried then, afraid he might find some flaw in my actions to undermine my ruse. My mouth grew dry.
“Go with the light of many and find the one,” he said as he passed.
I touched my fist to my forehead. “From many come one, and from one many.”
We went our ways. I sighed with relief. This was the first sign being exiled from Tyutkinsk for stealing bread while starving might have been a blessing and not the curse I’d thought it. I should have been grateful I was not hung. But banishment had stung.
I descended from the higher passes through the scrubby tree line. Here the path was steep and narrow, winding its treacherous way along slopes where loose rocks threatened to slide beneath my feet and carry me down until I dashed against something. I tired as I tread slowly, my elation at finding the hat draining each agonizing second. My legs trembled with fatigue.
At last, the way flattened. There remained a few more sharp bends as the path led down into the first settled valleys at the base of the mountain range. As dusk took hold, the torches and lanterns of Vybossyisk came into view, the wooden gate of its palisade still open. I hurried to pass inside before they closed, waving at the guards as their eyes followed me. They did not deign to wave back at a Kudekhi of course, but they allowed me to pass.
Vybossyisk seemed smaller than Tyutkinsk. Or maybe I misremembered my home town after several days in the mountains with little food. I walked the narrow, shabby main street, my pockets empty. The people I passed either ignored me or, if a beggar, approached me with hand out, bowing their heads. I shrugged and wriggled my hands in front of my chest, signifying an empty purse. I felt a twinge of guilt, though, knowing they were Vella followers like myself. They turned away, but gave courteous bows. Beggars are lower than Kudekhi and know their place. I grimaced with the memories of a lifetime of debasement.
I passed several restaurants, but none that would allow a Kudekhi to enter. With my new hat, I’d gained standing, but only when compared to Vellan beggars. I held my poor stomach and watched in hunger as others gorged themselves on supper, seemingly without concern for those less fortunate. Warm flat bread; boiled lemkas; wild rock hens roasting. Had I not been so dry of mouth, I might have drooled.
I walked down a little alley and picked my way through the back streets, looking for opportunities. Perhaps one of the establishments would toss out an unfinished meal and I could steal it from the refuse trough.
It came sooner than I had hoped. A door crashed open, sending a wash of firelight into the alley. A man seemed to fly from the door and land on the dirty stones, his cheek pressed against the muck.
“I’ve had enough of you busting the place up,” a voice growled from the door. “You can sober up out there.” The door slammed shut, and I blinked as night took hold once more.
His bad luck became more good luck for me.
I approached the dark mound of the man and squatted beside him. “Are you alright, my friend,” I asked. The only response I received were the snores coming from his lips, he having passed out from drink, or the knock his head took when he hit the ground. My hands searched his robes, slipping into his pockets to find a few coins I took, as any good Vellan beggar would. He had rings as well, worth far more than I’d taken from his purse. I left those, however, not wanting to take all that he had. I only needed enough for some food and perhaps a bed to rest my head upon. Greed would bring renewed bad luck.
I made to rise, but my eyes caught sight of what I had overlooked. On the ground beside him lay a hat. A lapton! Unlike the tapit I wore, it rose in a low circle on top of one’s head, but had a curved bulge that ran from rear to front, with a hint of gold thread. Gold colored at least, not real gold. A lapton was the most common of head coverings for full citizens and came in a multitude of colors to convey religious faith and, thus, one’s standing. This one appeared green, marking its owner as a follower of the Order of Radiance, a minor group of reincarnation believers. But that ranked higher than a Kudekhi, and another step. It would allow me entrance into some eateries, and the coins should pay for a meal and room for the night.
“Is that yours?” I asked, though I expected no reply. There was no proof it belonged to him other than proximity, though it seemed likely. I threw down the black tapit and placed the lapton upon my head. Then I hurried away. I might have given him a Radiance blessing for a better life to come, but he was unconscious, not dead.
I made my way back to the main street. Things seemed more pleasant now, the lights from eating establishments coloring the street a cheerful orange. I found a humble place whose sign said members of the Order of Radiance were welcome and entered. An open table near the hearth beckoned, and I sat gratefully.
A man approached. He wore no hat but, instead, bore a black ring of pigment around his shaved head, marking him as an indentured employee of the establishment. “May I humbly take your order, endless one?”
I took the coins from my pocket. “Well spoken, my friend. Food and drink to fill an empty belly. And do you by chance have a room I can afford?”
He counted out most of my coins and pocketed them, leaving me only two single dyining to spend on future needs. “There are three rooms up the stairs,” he said, gesturing towards the back of the eatery. “When you have finished your meal, you are welcome to take the one furthest to the rear.”
I thanked him and he rushed off to get my meal. Before long, a steaming plate of lemkies and braisers rested on the table before me. He’d even included a small slice of rock hen at no extra cost to me, perfectly golden brown from the fire, the juices mixing with the rest of the delicacies. Not long after, the plate had been cleaned of all the crumbs and I sipped from a small glass of spring cherry wine. Quite good, if too sweet for my palate. Thankfully, the food kept it from going to my head.
“Wonderful,” I said when he returned to clear the table. “Tell your master or mistress that the meal was fabulous.”
“They will be pleased to hear of your contentment, endless one,” he said, and bowed.
I rose and took my leave, feeling full and warm for the first time in my life. I’d never eaten such a good meal. I was soon further contented as I entered the room and realized not only would I have the room to myself, it being in between the seasons of pilgrimage and the inn almost empty, but I would also have a bed to sleep in, a comfort I’d never before enjoyed. It had straw ticking and coarse blankets, but even such a simple bed was superior to the cold alleys I’d spent my life in. I snuggled down, remaining dressed, and fell into a deep slumber.
I woke later than planned, finally understanding why those with hats did not rise until mid-morning. What a joy a bed could bring! I kicked off the blanket I’d wrapped around me in the night and dropped beside the bed to perform my morning prayers. Out of sight of prying eyes, I could give thanks to the Vella without fear it would tip anyone off that I was not a member of Radiance.
As I lowered my head to the floor, something caught my eye. A scrap of white cloth tucked into the corner between the bed slats and the wall. I finished praying first, reciting the first twenty lines of the five thousand and seventy-eight lines of the Vella, then I tugged the material until it came free.
In my hands I held a white lapton.
I trembled with fear and delight. A white lapton signified the wearer belonged to Rayn, God of sun and day, one of the most powerful religions in the land. The great Mogul himself belonged to Rayn, and it had become a popular belief during his reign. Rayn’s followers were granted the right of assembly, banking, even trial by a jury of other wearers of the white rather than summary judgement by a magistrate.
My luck had lifted me again!
But now my luck also brought mortal danger. Pretending to be Kudekhi risked some pain should I be discovered. Disguising myself as a member of Radiance might lead to a penal term and season of hard labor in a work camp. If I were discovered wearing a white lapton when not a member of the order, I would receive a slow, painful death by torture. They would rack me, disembowel me, and cast my soul into the dark pit of Shalesh himself.
I had spent more time in the temples of Rayn than any other, though. I knew his worship and worshippers intimately. I’d stolen their wine; eaten their mash cakes; wiped my ass with the vellum of their prayer books. If I could not pretend to be a Rayn follower, I could not in good conscience call myself a follower of the Vella any longer, either. We took pride in our nature, and the chameleon had become our standard for good reason.
I turned to the Vella again. Line two hundred and ninety-eight. When in doubt, ask what would God do.
The answer was clear: take the lapton and better myself. Any step forward.
With shaking hands, I placed it upon my head. I felt immediate strength, as though the hat brought me new power. I stood taller, and the world seemed brighter. I tucked the green turban down between the bed frame and the wall, passing my luck onto the next soul to find it. With a spring in my step, I hurried down the stairs and out into the cheery bright day.
What a day! I had no sooner reached the street than a man hurried up to me. “My friend, my friend, why are you so ill dressed?” He wore a white lapton himself, no different than mine, but his outfit was far finer than my threadbare, dirty robe. “Have you met with trouble amongst the mountain passes? Oh, Rayn is good, but he does not keep those villainous Vella worshippers from robbery and murder!”
I felt a flush rise to my cheeks and had to stay my tongue. Vella worshippers were not villainous. They were victims of birth and circumstance, destined to never own a hat and, thus, be forever cast as the lowest of the low, treated worse than servants. Servants at least were given food and a warm home to sleep in. But I could not bring my mouth to open, and my tongue cleaved to the dry roof of my mouth in doubt of what to say. I had not had time to prepare a proper story, and cursed silently my lack of forethought. The Vella gave guidance on such matters, but in the glow of my comfort I had neglected them.
He must have taken my reticence as a sign of shame. “Oh, no, no, you need not be worried about your appearance. All of us have felt the sting of being robbed. Ever do the mountain passes became more dangerous each year. I have heard of some others who will never return to their homes and temples, their bodies cast into chasms. Come, come.”
He took me by the elbow and hurried me into a nearby door. I had not the wit to resist, scared my deception would be realized at any moment. The home we entered looked tastefully furnished. Beaded curtains hung over each entryway to different rooms, and there were many colorful cushions and pillow to sit upon. A copper tub, steam rising from the water within, sat in a corner. He opened a trunk in the corner and waved at the contents. “Please, wash yourself in my tub. Then pick out some things to wear so that your shame may be hidden. I will wait for you outside. We would welcome you to join our caravan.”
“Caravan?” I asked, complete in my confusion.
“It is better to travel to the capital with others.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice as though afraid to be overheard. “There is safety in numbers.”
“Ah, of course,” I said. Even here, the roads had become unsafe apparently.
“We will leave in an hour. Take your time.” He hurried from the room, leaving me alone.
I examined the contents of the trunk. Here were clothes to suit men or women, cleaned and folded, and in many styles. I wondered if this were considered normal for followers of Rayn. Did they all keep extra clothing for each other? How had I not been made aware of this predilection to support each other so joyously? The implications confounded me and left me curious what else I’d missed. It cast doubt on my ability to pretend to be one of them.
I undressed and approached the tub. All my cleansings had been performed with other Vellan disciples in the waters of the lake my town sat next to, fed by cold streams from the snowy mountain tops. Line one fifty-eight told us to take care of your bodies and keep them clean, so we did, as best we could. I carefully climbed over the tall side and lowered myself into the waiting water.
I will not regale you with details of what pleasure a hot bath meant to me. Suffice it to say, I would never bathe in chill lakes again now I know the feeling.
When I finished and had dried myself with a thick cloth hung from a hook near the tub—I hoped it was hung there for such a purpose—I chose the simplest outfit I could piece together. Kafta leggings, loose for comfort, and a white over-robe held closed by a cloth waist belt with a copper buckle. For footwear, I found thick soled boots, black leather and as soft and pliable as silk. Truly the clothes were simple. Much finer wares were available, some of it trimmed with silver studs or fox fur. Yet I wore more wealth now than I’d owned in my entire life. I left my old robes folded on top of the trunk, my nearly useless sandals on the floor next to it.
He waited for me outside as he had said. “There, that is better, though I think you were too kind and took the least I had to offer.” He faced me and thumped my shoulders once. “There was much finer clothing you could have chosen.”
“Your gift is too kind as it is. I did not want to take more than I needed.”
“Ha!” He turned to a woman who stood a little way off and waved at me. “You see? A good man, rare these days. I told you I could smell them a furling away.”
She wore a long, silken pantelere in green, the arms and legs cut loose like my new trousers. A yellow cloak of wool hung over the garment for warmth, buttoned at the neck. She tilted her head and smiled a crooked smile. A rather charming smile I thought. “Father, you are always too kind. But it makes my heart glad.”
Though her head was covered with a woman’s simple whifan made of cotton scarves, she did not use draped lace to cover her face as many women preferred these days. Her black hair spilled in curls down over her shoulders. She was young and pretty and as far unlike her father’s rotund body as a woman could be. She would have been twenty-three or twenty-four, I guessed. I was surprised she had not married yet, but followers of Rayn often bade their children wait until twenty-five to settle down to give them time to see and explore the world. Very enlightened, though of course Vella left such matters up to each follower as well.
I placed my right hand over my heart and tipped forward as I’d often seen followers of Rayn do when addressing a female not of their relation. “Your father is most generous indeed. Would that we all had fathers so kind.”
Ah, her smile. Worth every violation of law committed. Not that I considered anything I did an actual violation. Flexibility in morality could be said to be the truest of our Vellan beliefs. Line six hundred and one.
“I am Moktar vil Ombe,” the man said, “and this is my daughter, Saya.”
“My heart is warmed,” I replied, as a worshipper of Rayn would. “I am Sayend dey Tamay.”
Their caravan included a half dozen other families and several Kudekhi merchants who were allowed to follow along for the security. As the Kudekhi never traveled with wives or children, and were often in the midst of one of their many fasting ceremonies, they were no extra burden for a group. There were as well two young men who served as guards, though they had an ill look about them. I would keep my eye on them.
We traveled all day, making camp at a caravanning location where the trees had been cleared for such purpose before the light failed. I joined the other followers of Rayn around the campfire for a good, cooked meal and much singing. I would have demurred out of concern any lies I might tell would lead to my discovery as a Vellan beggar, but Moktar insisted, and his daughter seemed glad for my company.
“And your family?” Moktar asked, picking the gristle from two roasted rock hens from his yellow teeth. “What of them?”
“My mother and father died at Nizhnegorod,” I said. I’d been one of a thousand orphans had been left behind in the ruins of Nizhnegorod, which the enemy of the great Mogul had sacked only a few years after I’d been born. We’d been raised in small orphanages scattered around the empire. “I grew up in a home in Tyutkinsk.”
“Ah, my boy, I am so sorry to open a wound from childhood. May Rayn forgive this old man for reminding you of your losses.”
“May Rayn forgive,” several of us intoned in reply.
“You have given no offense,” I said. “In truth, I remember them less well than the Capishions who took me in after their deaths.”
The Capishions, who had worn not laptons, but grand chaptereuas. The Capishions, who had the favor of the old Mogul before he died and his son took over and converted to Raynism. The Capishions, who had saved a generation of children from Nizhnegorod, and had been thanked by the new Mogul with dissolution of their order, destruction of their houses of worship, and their wholesale slaughter.
Followers of Rayn said the Capishions had become corrupt, and made endless false claims of crimes, including pederasty. Many talked in hushed whispers about the Night of the Red Scarves, when the young Mogul moved his troops against thousands of innocent Capishions, and had hung them to death from the walls of their cities.
Vellans knew the truth. They were destroyed because they were powerful and wealthy. The new Mogul’s treasury soon bulged with the golden wealth he stole from their temples and homes. The orphans were scattered again, many adopted by worshippers of Rayn who sought to absolve themselves with a good deed. I’d been one of the less fortunate ones.
Thus, my lie was one of omission, failing to mention I’d been raised Vellan, not Raynian. Everything else had been the truth.
Moktar’s face took on a strange expression. I had expected it to harden. Or perhaps I had expected him to exclaim with anger, repeating those same falsehoods as most Raynians did. Instead, his mouth twisted as though he were stricken. He wiped a hand across his face and nodded at me. “There are many regrets we have in this life we will carry with us to the next. What was done to the Capishions will be one of them.”
I had never heard a Raynian speak with so much pain about them. I bowed and touched my thumb to my nose. “Your words do honor to those who never harmed me.”
His daughter rose. “I will take my evening walk now.” She waited as though seeking his permission.
“Perhaps I can convince our new friend to accompany you,” Moktar said, turning to me. “She should have a guard in case any wild creatures are lurking about.”
“It would seem more appropriate for a member of her family,” I demurred. While I found her attractive, I did not feel it wise to be left alone with her. I would not want her to get any ideas about me leading to revelation of my background.
“Nonsense,” he said, laughing. “I am the only family Saya has left in this world, and you can see I am hardly a fit companion for a young woman on a walk. Simply bring her back safe to me, my friend.”
A few minutes later found us walking along the edge of clearing. A stream passed through the trees nearby, and we followed the rough trail down to the water’s edge.
“Come,” she said, and sat upon a wide rock. She patted a spot next to her. I sat as close to the edge—and as far from her—as I could.
“Why are you so scared of me?” she said. I could see the white of teeth as she grinned at me. “I do not bite. Not unless you ask.”
“Perhaps we should go back,” I said, and began to rise.
Her warm hand fell on mine. “No, please. I am only teasing. Stay a little longer and keep me company. I’ll behave.”
I took a long breath. “It’s not that I don’t find you very attractive.”
Her smile grew wider. “But you wish not to offend my father, yes?”
“Precisely.”
“Because he might find out what you really are.”
My heart stopped and the air grew suddenly cold. “I don’t understand.”
She laughed. A beautiful laugh, as crooked as her smile. “Don’t try to hide it. The sixty third line of the Vella says a disguise is only good when one’s nature is not already known.”
I blinked, confused. “You know the Vella? But I thought . . .”
“You thought we were followers of Rayn, yes?”
“Yes.”
“You thought what Moktar wanted you to think. He’s very good at his performance, wouldn’t you say?”
“So, you’re disciples of Vella?”
She lifted my hand to her cheek. “Yes. Moktar wanted me to get you away from the others so we could discuss this. Two young people taking a walk makes sense. Not that I don’t find you attractive of course.” Her smile grew sly.
In my confused delight, I had no time to reply. The two caravan guards stepped from the shadow of the trees and approached us. Both had their hands on the hilts of their swords. I inwardly cursed myself for not passing my concerns of them to Moktar before the walk. We rose to face them. They surely planned to rob us, and likely kill us. I thought quickly. The Vella said beware your friends and befriend your enemies, though I’d had little chance in life to examine line fifty-eight more carefully.
“You’ve come to escort us back,” I said, with boisterous joviality, acting as though I’d had a little too much wine. I spread my arms wide and stepped between the two men, throwing my hands over their shoulders. Their scowls deepened, but they were foolish enough to think I lacked the intellect to know what was about.
“Take your hands off me,” the one on my right said.
“But why,” I said, and I winked at him. “Are we not friends?”
Saya stepped back, putting her back to a tree and she touched a small dagger at her waist. I frowned and gave a small shake of my head.
“Come on, let’s go for a walk,” I said. I stepped forward and lifted my legs off the ground. Both men bent over and stumbled as my weight suddenly bore down on them. I took the opportunity to plant my feet and pull hard, swinging them towards each other.
Their heads met in front of me with a resounding crack. Both reeled back and fell to the ground, crying out in pain. She kicked one in the face, snarling in anger at him. Then she took his sword as he thrashed around on the ground.
I grabbed the sword from the waist of the other as he clutched his bleeding head. I grabbed his hat as well, a blue lapton. Then I pressed the point of the sword into his chest. “You take your friend and you two villains run. The caravan will be guarded tonight and we will be watching for you. If you return, I will do more than embarrass you in front of the daughter of our host. I will kill you.”
He coughed, then threw up. When he finally spoke, it was only to ask about head wear. “What about my hat?”
“You have one between the two of you. I am feeling generous and will allow you to keep it. You can fight to determine who gets to wear it. Now go!”
He scrambled to his feet and, with much stumbling, the two of them ran off into the forest. But he made sure to grab the other man’s hat as they left.
“I can see why Moktar likes you,” she said, smoothing her clothing. She clasped her hands together and bowed to the north, and said the words of thanks the Vella required for when a bad situation turned back to good.
“It’s good to know I’m not the only one pretending.”
“Moktar says disciples of Vella have been disguising themselves as other orders for generations. When in doubt, ask what God would do, yes? Line two hundred and ninety-eight”
“One of my favorites.”
“Moktar’s as well.”
Moktar. She’d said his name numerous times now, and I’d failed to notice. Not my father. “Nizhnegorod?”
She took my hands and kissed my fingers. “Yes. The Capishions who took me in after the city was razed were kind and loving and generous. They treated me as if I were their own flesh and blood. What was done to them was an unforgiveable crime. I was orphaned a second time before my seventh name day, and cast out into the streets.”
“Where Vella’s followers stepped in and picked up the mantle. Moktar.”
“Yes. My third family taught me well. Their teachings led me here. And one day, I would see the man who brought such misery to so many parted from the great, round, purple hat he is never seen without.”
I nodded. We would go where the wind took us. “On to the capital, then. We will see the great Mogul and receive his blessing. Maybe at the end of this journey we will find ourselves in possession of his grand Oneionte. Such a fine hat would suit Moktar’s head.”
“Not yours?”
“I would refuse it. Never press your luck too far.”
“Line three thousand, six hundred and eighty-one.”
I took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Any step forward.”