I was but a slave, a slave to the great kingdom of Nafaraith, under
Our Lord And Master, Pharoth, who, by divine right, ruled all he surveyed
with the blessing of the gods. Until the day that a savior came, an
unstoppable force of good, known as Jebus.
Nobody believed that Jebus truly existed, but that he was just a tale, a story used to give the slaves hope of one day being free of Pharoth's iron claw of tyranny and oppression. As such, Pharoth took only a passing interest in this man and his cause and, in fact, worked us even harder to complete his city, punishment for our lies and fairy tales. We were whipped mercilessly by the guards, some being beaten nearly to death, but never killed. Pharoth had exhausted the entire known world, converting everyone and everything that he could to his cause one way or another, and had no more reserves in which to pull workers. He could not sacrifice a single worker, a single builder, because he had nobody with which to replace them, unless, of course, the mood struck him, which was often, as he was a man of great temperament, a walking hypocrisy, for he knew of his lack of labor force, but acted like he did not care, executing many for simple slights at a moments notice, yet also executing his own guards for doing so without his permission. He had literally brought the entire world to its knees, to lick at his boots like beaten dogs, to build and labor only for him and his cause. The cause which we were not privy to.
Then one day, he came. The great Jebus, savior of us all, who strode proudly up to the massive throne of Pharoth and asked, nay, demanded, that we be set free, to work for fair wages, for a new lord. For Pharoth, he exclaimed, was unfit to rule, as proven by his actions and conduct concerning his subjects. Pharoth looked, wide eyed and mouth agape, at this small, worthless spec of man who dared approach the holy throne and make demands, unspeakable demands, before his holiness, without being announced properly.
Pharoth's laugh could be heard from miles away, and it easily lasted two, three minutes. It was almost maniacal by the last thirty seconds, and only those closest to the throne, which was built upon a giant staircase, a staircase paved with the blood of the innocent slaves, as per Pharoth's orders (we tried to get him to use mortar and stone, but no.), could still hear it by then.
When the mirth subsided, Pharoth chastised Jebus for being so uncouth and without the graces given to all those that he declared could remain free to pursue their own livelihoods. He then proceeded to criticize Jebus on his appearance, who had not even the decency to clip his beard and wear proper attire before Our Lord And Master. Almost as an afterthought, Pharoth summoned two guards to escort his newest "guest" to The Pit, the most unholy of places ever conceived by man or god.
The Pit was a horror of the most unimaginable kind; a shaft descending three hundred meters straight down, the walls lined with a spiraling walkway, within each wall a hundreds of cells, within each cell a single man, tormented on an hourly basis (quarter hourly on weekends) with promises of freedom if he would just admit to his crimes in perfect detail. Few knew of their crimes, as most things go against the wishes of Pharoth, and anything that goes against the wishes of Pharoth are crimes against him and his kingdom. If a man described a crime other than the one he was incarcerated for, or if he made a single error in his description, he was executed for lying to an appointed member of the judicial court. If, on the other hand, he perfectly accounted his crime, including dates, times, witnesses, etcetera, he was executed for admitting, before an appointed member of the judicial court, that he was a criminal. I once knew a man who languished for twenty years before breaking down and admitting that he, in his ignorant youth, had spit upon the sandy roads of Nafaraith on the third Pharday of the third month, Phartch, without a proper permit. He was promptly executed and his cell cleaned for the next poor soul. Another man was placed in a cell for no reason other than being quite ugly and offended the eyes of Our Lord And Master, but he confessed to crimes ranging from public lewdness all the way up to theft of a donkey and sixteen Pharthings from a merchant in the Trader's Quarter. He was promptly executed for his admitted crimes, then pardoned for execution without just cause.
Jebus was led, calmly, into one of the lower cells in The Pit, just above the current excavation level. I was working on breaking up the gravel for walkways, and was one of the first to see Jebus who knew of him. He was majestic to see, easily 6 feet tall, towering over even Pharoth himself, built like a camel herder, tanned like a slave, with a beard that reached his belt and hair that reached his ankles. His eyes burned like hot coals, his cheeks like chiseled obsidian, flared nose like a noble horse, lips like sweetflowers. He moved with the grace of nobility, stooped into his cell, and sat upon the pallet, never saying a word, never resisting, just looking straight at the opposite wall. Then he became like marble, stone still, not a single muscle twitching, awaiting his judgment.
My break time came, three minutes of pure bliss, and I used them as wisely as I could: I spoke to Jebus. I approached his cage tentatively, cautiously, hoping that he would not notice me until I was to him, until I could take him in in his entirety. When I was leaning against the bars, I spoke, my first words in thirty-two years.
"Are you truly our savior?" I asked, each syllable coming out in a hoarse whisper.
"Aye. That I am." He replied, never moving a muscle. I swore that not even his lips moved, but then I could not see them beneath his beard.
"Thank you, Jebus. Thank you." I said, bowing low, as a slave would to Our Lord And Master. That was my mistake.
Pharoth does not mind us speaking amongst ourselves while working, so long as we do not mind being whipped repeatedly, nor does he look down upon speaking with prisoners, as long as becoming one is understood by the speaker. And my bow took the notice of not only the guards, but my fellow slaves as well, who immediately assumed that I had either gone insane, or that the person within the cell was someone of great importance, someone who could set them free, and to the hells with the other lazy people around them who tried to muscle in on their opportunity. In short, my bow caused a riot.
A strong hand grabbed my tunic, jerking me upright, and another spun me around, giving me a fine view of one of Pharoth's guards, piggish, cruel men who fit his personality to a "T". He sneered, broken, yellowed teeth staring at me from a gaping mouth, and grunted, almost like a swine in a mudpool, "Showing respect to this dog? I will teach you to put others above Our Lord And Master, worm!"
I shut my eyes, awaiting the blow which never came. A great noise, like a wave, assaulted my ears, and I opened one eye, tentatively, to see every slave on my floor rushing us as one, shouting their pleas for salvation. The guard had turned to the sight, and began to issue orders to quell the "insurrection", which his fellows quickly ignored. The head guard was at lunch, and if they took orders from any other it would be them in the cells. Alone in the rush, the guard did what he was trained to: he drew a large, ragged scimitar and began swinging it wildly, cutting down men left and right, before being over come by the throng, trampled underfoot, and forgotten.
I was not so lucky. I stared, dumbfounded, as the mob broke over me, around me, and dragged me with it to slam headlong into the bars of the cell of Jebus, who sat, impassively, unconcerned with the chaos before him. This was how he was when the Imperial Guard, the best of the best of Pharoth's personal protectors, broke us up and imprisoned everyone from that floor, myself included. I was found in the forefront of the group, inserted painfully between two of the heavy bars, and was quickly placed as the center of the riot and removed from my station and predicament, to be put in the cell neighboring Jebus.
I sat in my new home, lamenting my anguish, when I heard that voice, that sweet-as-honey voice of Jebus, from through the thick clay wall.
"Do not weep, my son, for soon you will be free from this." He said, sure of himself as any man could be.
"How? How, Jebus, will I escape from this? It is impossible. In the morning, when my turn comes, they will ask me why I am here. If I refuse to answer, they will move on, leaving me to rot another day. If I reply, and am wrong, they will throw me from the throne of Pharoth, to hurtle hundreds of feet so that I may be dashed upon the sand below. If I answer correctly, they will strap me to four horses and pull my body into pieces before removing my head from my shoulders. No matter what I do, I am doomed. How can you say that I will be free?"
"Because I know, my son. I will free you from your plight. Tomorrow, invent the strangest crime you can think of, so that you are presented before Pharoth as a liar, and I will do the same, and be there next to you. Then I shall free you."
"How?"
"Just trust in me. I shall do as I say, and then all of Nafaraith will be liberated from under the rule of Pharoth."
"I will believe in you, as I have since I first heard of you, all those years ago, Jebus. Thank you."
"You are welcome, my son."
With that, I curled myself onto the straw pallet and slept the sleep of the condemned. It was hours later, lying there, unable to return to my fitful slumber, that I considered the following: how had I heard the voice of Jebus from behind the two feet of clay? And how did he intend to overthrow Pharoth?
Morning came swiftly and surely, and I had my false crime prepared well before the inquisitor, a small, nervous looking man in long robes came to me, and asked me those prophetic words, "What was your crime?" "Good sir, my crime was most heinous, I assure you. You see, I was caught coupling with none other than Our Lord And Master's one and only daughter, Neocrite, herself. She had seen me in the slave pits and decreed that I should come with her to her chambers. Once there, she dismissed her guards and ordered me to service her every need. One thing led to another, and soon I had become her plaything, forced to submit to her every whim, including to lie passively by as she used me as a sexual toy. Then she called the guards on me, claiming that I broke into her chambers with the intent to ravish her. And here, good sir, I sit, awaiting your verdict."
It was the greatest lie that anyone within The Pit had ever heard. First and most importantly, Our Lord And Master had no daughter. Secondly, no daughter, if she had existed, would ever be seen moving amongst the slaves, no matter how protected. And, finally, the royal family prides itself on overcoming pleasures of the flesh. The last time a member was caught gaining enjoyment from a female slave, they were both executed on the spot.
I had caught the inquisitor off guard. He stood, aghast, at the horrendousness of my lie. The two guards behind him, his personal bullyboys, dropped their bullwhips and sabers, their laughter resonating throughout The Pit. Recovering quickly, the inquisitor snapped his fingers, silencing his guards. "You spin a good yarn, slave. One that is completely false. Radkeh, Korlyr, put this man with the others to be presented before Our Lord And Master." He said, moving on to Jebus's cell while I was escorted from mine and placed among a group of about fifteen people, some slaves who had been in the mob, others unknown to me. Many of them were suppressing various levels of laughter, and I received heartfelt congratulations and backslaps for my fable. Among the slaves and criminals it is considered a win against the system if one can affect the inquisitors as I had with a proper lie. While I accepted my accolades, the guards returned with Jebus in tow, and none of us had heard his story. Pity, really.
We were led up the shaft, Jebus at the head of the group, through the slaves both laboring to improve The Pit's structure and simply milling about on break. Many of them recognized him, and I, and some became brave enough to cheer or shout to him. They were quickly silenced, some less gently than others, by guards close by, but by the time we reached the top most of the slaves on duty that day both above and below ground had heard the news: Jebus and Joseph, the savior and the liar, were to be executed before the gaze of Pharoth. Infamy is just as good, or so I had been told.
The slaves stood around our group, moving with us, the guards unable to put them back to work. Eventually they gave up and allowed our entourage to follow, until we reached the bottom of the massive tower which supported the throne of Our Lord And Master. Almost as high as The Pit was deep, one had to crane one's neck severely in order to see the top, if not for the fact that doing so was considered a crime, as undue staring upon Pharoth's person was an insult to him. We began the long walk up the stairs, the solid gold blinding anyone who averted their gaze from the top. I had helped build the staircase, and knew that if I looked straight forward and slightly down I could both avoid the glare of the steps themselves in the sun and still be able to watch my path up them properly, and did so. Jebus beside me watched me for a moment, realized what I was doing, and followed suit. It occurred to me that, if we were seen together like this, that Pharoth might misconstrue it as some kind of bonding, or prayer, which would undoubtedly make things much harder for us both, in that we would probably be disemboweled and left to rot in the sun a few days before being thrown off. I quickly glanced upwards, ignoring the blinding flashes in my eyes, and trudged on.
At the top the stairs plateau into a fifty-foot square platform on which rests his holy personage and his family, not to mention many guards and slaves, protecting/servicing them. Our Lord And Master sat, sprawling, upon his massive golden throne, eating small slices of fish being served to him by a beauty on the eyes, a buxom slave, who's assets bounced and swayed in the open with her every move. We all followed her as she moved from one son to another and back to Pharoth, all except Jebus, whose gaze locked onto the form of Our Lord And Master from the second he was within range. Knowing that being next to him, despite his, and my, promise, was worth a much worse death than I was expecting, I tried to move to one side, but both Jebus himself and a guard stopped me, one with a gentle hand, the other with a lash to the calf. Resigned to my fate, I stood beside Jebus, trying to appear as steadfast as he, trying to prepare myself for death.
Pharoth too was lost in the massive cleavage of his slave, and did not notice the slaves before him for a few moments. When he did, however, he was a hurricane of smug superiority. "Why are they still standing, captain? Why have they not yet prostrated themselves before my royal feet?"
In seconds we were pushed to the floor, forced to bow for him. One man tried to resist, and was unceremoniously pushed from the stairs. Pharoth waited for the sound of the poor man's head colliding with the ground far below before continuing. "Ah, what a wonderful sound. I never get tired of that noise. Guards, please arrest that man for executing a slave without my express permission. Thank you. Now then. Down to business. All of you have been caught in a lie, a most heinous act, one which must be dealt with swiftly and surely. However, before you are thrown from my sight, you may speak your peace to me, perhaps in some vain hope that I will change my mind and grant you, or your fellows, mercy, or just to engorge your sense of moral superiority by insulting my person. You, the tall one who so brashly came to me yesterday, you may go first. Come, stand, and speak your mind to your Master."
Jebus stood, face impassive, still looking straight at Our Lord And Master, their eyes locked. Taking a few swift, calm steps, he stood before the throne. Pharoth smiled, a grim grin, and said, "Interesting. This one still refuses to show me proper respect. Perhaps I will not grant my usual allowance of final words."
"That would be a grand mistake, Pharoth. For if you do, you will be destroying your only chance to escape my wrath. You have subjugated these people for too long, and now it is I who shall stop you. I hope that you believe that your cause is just, and good, for when you reach your final judgment perhaps you may go to the Abyss confused and afraid, the same as these poor souls whom you doom day in and day out. I will give you but one chance to save yourself from death, Pharoth. Leave this place now, and take your family and guards with you, never to return. Then I shall spare your life. I cannot promise the same of your slaves, former slaves, I should say, but I personally will not pursue you. If, however, you scoff me, or do not allow me to finish, you will be dead before you realize it. I am here as an envoy from God, the great and merciful creator of this world. He is not pleased with your conduct, and believes that the time has come for you to be removed from your throne and for another to claim it. I am that someone."
Silence. I looked behind me, and those far below had stopped, had heard. Now I knew what I had suspected all along, what I had feared: Jebus was a lunatic.
Pharoth cocked his head to one side, mirth in his eyes and lips. But he did not laugh. He merely said, "That's nice. Guards? Throw him over."
The guards moved to obey. Jebus raised one hand, palm open, towards Pharoth. He began clenching his hand into a fist, and Our Lord And Master, incredulity on his face, began to choke. He grabbed at his throat, coughing and gasping for air, as if some invisible hand had grasped his neck and was squeezing, much like Jebus's hand was doing to thin air.
He wasn't insane. He was a god.
Pharoth gave one last choke, then went limp in his throne, dead. Jebus opened his hand and lowered it to his side, walked to the dead man, and raised him up like a child. He walked to the edge of the stairs, held Our Former Lord And Master over his head, and shouted for all the world to hear.
"Pharoth is dead!"
The cheer could be heard from several universes away.
Guards, unable to think for themselves, leaped from the platform to avoid his wrath, not considering the fall. The slaves, finally having freedom, in their joyous cavorting too leaped from the platform, also not considering the fall. Among all the chaos going on around me, I stood, barely comprehending what had just happened. We had a new ruler, one who could kill with a motion. I did not see how it was a better thing.
Then Jebus spoke again.
"My people, do not kill your captors. Embrace them, in brotherly love, for you are all now equals under me, and I am your new Lord. Instead, continue working, for although Pharoth's methods were not appealing, his goals were. Now, please, return to your duties. Guards, throw down your weapons and join your brothers, aid them in their work."
No reaction. Some guards began to speak, but were cut off by the same power that had killed Pharoth. A simple glance from Jebus and they were dead. After this happened several times, the remaining guards quickly dropped their whips and swords and picked up rope, pulling the huge stones that made up the city alongside slaves, who took the news much as they had when Pharoth took power from his father. The joy of their revolution had passed as soon as it had come.
Business as usual around here.
Jebus turned to me, being the only one still on the platform. He dropped lightly into the throne and spoke, his voice now softer, calmer. "Thank you for believing in me, Joseph. Your faith will be rewarded in the next life. For this one, however, please return to your duties."
He turned to a small man standing beside him and began making demands in the same soft tone. I began the long trek back down the stairs.
I was but a slave, a slave to the great kingdom of Nafaraith, under Our Lord And Master, Jebus, who, by divine right, ruled all he surveyed with the blessing of God. Until the day that a savior came, an unstoppable force of good, known as Budham.
Nobody believed that Jebus truly existed, but that he was just a tale, a story used to give the slaves hope of one day being free of Pharoth's iron claw of tyranny and oppression. As such, Pharoth took only a passing interest in this man and his cause and, in fact, worked us even harder to complete his city, punishment for our lies and fairy tales. We were whipped mercilessly by the guards, some being beaten nearly to death, but never killed. Pharoth had exhausted the entire known world, converting everyone and everything that he could to his cause one way or another, and had no more reserves in which to pull workers. He could not sacrifice a single worker, a single builder, because he had nobody with which to replace them, unless, of course, the mood struck him, which was often, as he was a man of great temperament, a walking hypocrisy, for he knew of his lack of labor force, but acted like he did not care, executing many for simple slights at a moments notice, yet also executing his own guards for doing so without his permission. He had literally brought the entire world to its knees, to lick at his boots like beaten dogs, to build and labor only for him and his cause. The cause which we were not privy to.
Then one day, he came. The great Jebus, savior of us all, who strode proudly up to the massive throne of Pharoth and asked, nay, demanded, that we be set free, to work for fair wages, for a new lord. For Pharoth, he exclaimed, was unfit to rule, as proven by his actions and conduct concerning his subjects. Pharoth looked, wide eyed and mouth agape, at this small, worthless spec of man who dared approach the holy throne and make demands, unspeakable demands, before his holiness, without being announced properly.
Pharoth's laugh could be heard from miles away, and it easily lasted two, three minutes. It was almost maniacal by the last thirty seconds, and only those closest to the throne, which was built upon a giant staircase, a staircase paved with the blood of the innocent slaves, as per Pharoth's orders (we tried to get him to use mortar and stone, but no.), could still hear it by then.
When the mirth subsided, Pharoth chastised Jebus for being so uncouth and without the graces given to all those that he declared could remain free to pursue their own livelihoods. He then proceeded to criticize Jebus on his appearance, who had not even the decency to clip his beard and wear proper attire before Our Lord And Master. Almost as an afterthought, Pharoth summoned two guards to escort his newest "guest" to The Pit, the most unholy of places ever conceived by man or god.
The Pit was a horror of the most unimaginable kind; a shaft descending three hundred meters straight down, the walls lined with a spiraling walkway, within each wall a hundreds of cells, within each cell a single man, tormented on an hourly basis (quarter hourly on weekends) with promises of freedom if he would just admit to his crimes in perfect detail. Few knew of their crimes, as most things go against the wishes of Pharoth, and anything that goes against the wishes of Pharoth are crimes against him and his kingdom. If a man described a crime other than the one he was incarcerated for, or if he made a single error in his description, he was executed for lying to an appointed member of the judicial court. If, on the other hand, he perfectly accounted his crime, including dates, times, witnesses, etcetera, he was executed for admitting, before an appointed member of the judicial court, that he was a criminal. I once knew a man who languished for twenty years before breaking down and admitting that he, in his ignorant youth, had spit upon the sandy roads of Nafaraith on the third Pharday of the third month, Phartch, without a proper permit. He was promptly executed and his cell cleaned for the next poor soul. Another man was placed in a cell for no reason other than being quite ugly and offended the eyes of Our Lord And Master, but he confessed to crimes ranging from public lewdness all the way up to theft of a donkey and sixteen Pharthings from a merchant in the Trader's Quarter. He was promptly executed for his admitted crimes, then pardoned for execution without just cause.
Jebus was led, calmly, into one of the lower cells in The Pit, just above the current excavation level. I was working on breaking up the gravel for walkways, and was one of the first to see Jebus who knew of him. He was majestic to see, easily 6 feet tall, towering over even Pharoth himself, built like a camel herder, tanned like a slave, with a beard that reached his belt and hair that reached his ankles. His eyes burned like hot coals, his cheeks like chiseled obsidian, flared nose like a noble horse, lips like sweetflowers. He moved with the grace of nobility, stooped into his cell, and sat upon the pallet, never saying a word, never resisting, just looking straight at the opposite wall. Then he became like marble, stone still, not a single muscle twitching, awaiting his judgment.
My break time came, three minutes of pure bliss, and I used them as wisely as I could: I spoke to Jebus. I approached his cage tentatively, cautiously, hoping that he would not notice me until I was to him, until I could take him in in his entirety. When I was leaning against the bars, I spoke, my first words in thirty-two years.
"Are you truly our savior?" I asked, each syllable coming out in a hoarse whisper.
"Aye. That I am." He replied, never moving a muscle. I swore that not even his lips moved, but then I could not see them beneath his beard.
"Thank you, Jebus. Thank you." I said, bowing low, as a slave would to Our Lord And Master. That was my mistake.
Pharoth does not mind us speaking amongst ourselves while working, so long as we do not mind being whipped repeatedly, nor does he look down upon speaking with prisoners, as long as becoming one is understood by the speaker. And my bow took the notice of not only the guards, but my fellow slaves as well, who immediately assumed that I had either gone insane, or that the person within the cell was someone of great importance, someone who could set them free, and to the hells with the other lazy people around them who tried to muscle in on their opportunity. In short, my bow caused a riot.
A strong hand grabbed my tunic, jerking me upright, and another spun me around, giving me a fine view of one of Pharoth's guards, piggish, cruel men who fit his personality to a "T". He sneered, broken, yellowed teeth staring at me from a gaping mouth, and grunted, almost like a swine in a mudpool, "Showing respect to this dog? I will teach you to put others above Our Lord And Master, worm!"
I shut my eyes, awaiting the blow which never came. A great noise, like a wave, assaulted my ears, and I opened one eye, tentatively, to see every slave on my floor rushing us as one, shouting their pleas for salvation. The guard had turned to the sight, and began to issue orders to quell the "insurrection", which his fellows quickly ignored. The head guard was at lunch, and if they took orders from any other it would be them in the cells. Alone in the rush, the guard did what he was trained to: he drew a large, ragged scimitar and began swinging it wildly, cutting down men left and right, before being over come by the throng, trampled underfoot, and forgotten.
I was not so lucky. I stared, dumbfounded, as the mob broke over me, around me, and dragged me with it to slam headlong into the bars of the cell of Jebus, who sat, impassively, unconcerned with the chaos before him. This was how he was when the Imperial Guard, the best of the best of Pharoth's personal protectors, broke us up and imprisoned everyone from that floor, myself included. I was found in the forefront of the group, inserted painfully between two of the heavy bars, and was quickly placed as the center of the riot and removed from my station and predicament, to be put in the cell neighboring Jebus.
I sat in my new home, lamenting my anguish, when I heard that voice, that sweet-as-honey voice of Jebus, from through the thick clay wall.
"Do not weep, my son, for soon you will be free from this." He said, sure of himself as any man could be.
"How? How, Jebus, will I escape from this? It is impossible. In the morning, when my turn comes, they will ask me why I am here. If I refuse to answer, they will move on, leaving me to rot another day. If I reply, and am wrong, they will throw me from the throne of Pharoth, to hurtle hundreds of feet so that I may be dashed upon the sand below. If I answer correctly, they will strap me to four horses and pull my body into pieces before removing my head from my shoulders. No matter what I do, I am doomed. How can you say that I will be free?"
"Because I know, my son. I will free you from your plight. Tomorrow, invent the strangest crime you can think of, so that you are presented before Pharoth as a liar, and I will do the same, and be there next to you. Then I shall free you."
"How?"
"Just trust in me. I shall do as I say, and then all of Nafaraith will be liberated from under the rule of Pharoth."
"I will believe in you, as I have since I first heard of you, all those years ago, Jebus. Thank you."
"You are welcome, my son."
With that, I curled myself onto the straw pallet and slept the sleep of the condemned. It was hours later, lying there, unable to return to my fitful slumber, that I considered the following: how had I heard the voice of Jebus from behind the two feet of clay? And how did he intend to overthrow Pharoth?
Morning came swiftly and surely, and I had my false crime prepared well before the inquisitor, a small, nervous looking man in long robes came to me, and asked me those prophetic words, "What was your crime?" "Good sir, my crime was most heinous, I assure you. You see, I was caught coupling with none other than Our Lord And Master's one and only daughter, Neocrite, herself. She had seen me in the slave pits and decreed that I should come with her to her chambers. Once there, she dismissed her guards and ordered me to service her every need. One thing led to another, and soon I had become her plaything, forced to submit to her every whim, including to lie passively by as she used me as a sexual toy. Then she called the guards on me, claiming that I broke into her chambers with the intent to ravish her. And here, good sir, I sit, awaiting your verdict."
It was the greatest lie that anyone within The Pit had ever heard. First and most importantly, Our Lord And Master had no daughter. Secondly, no daughter, if she had existed, would ever be seen moving amongst the slaves, no matter how protected. And, finally, the royal family prides itself on overcoming pleasures of the flesh. The last time a member was caught gaining enjoyment from a female slave, they were both executed on the spot.
I had caught the inquisitor off guard. He stood, aghast, at the horrendousness of my lie. The two guards behind him, his personal bullyboys, dropped their bullwhips and sabers, their laughter resonating throughout The Pit. Recovering quickly, the inquisitor snapped his fingers, silencing his guards. "You spin a good yarn, slave. One that is completely false. Radkeh, Korlyr, put this man with the others to be presented before Our Lord And Master." He said, moving on to Jebus's cell while I was escorted from mine and placed among a group of about fifteen people, some slaves who had been in the mob, others unknown to me. Many of them were suppressing various levels of laughter, and I received heartfelt congratulations and backslaps for my fable. Among the slaves and criminals it is considered a win against the system if one can affect the inquisitors as I had with a proper lie. While I accepted my accolades, the guards returned with Jebus in tow, and none of us had heard his story. Pity, really.
We were led up the shaft, Jebus at the head of the group, through the slaves both laboring to improve The Pit's structure and simply milling about on break. Many of them recognized him, and I, and some became brave enough to cheer or shout to him. They were quickly silenced, some less gently than others, by guards close by, but by the time we reached the top most of the slaves on duty that day both above and below ground had heard the news: Jebus and Joseph, the savior and the liar, were to be executed before the gaze of Pharoth. Infamy is just as good, or so I had been told.
The slaves stood around our group, moving with us, the guards unable to put them back to work. Eventually they gave up and allowed our entourage to follow, until we reached the bottom of the massive tower which supported the throne of Our Lord And Master. Almost as high as The Pit was deep, one had to crane one's neck severely in order to see the top, if not for the fact that doing so was considered a crime, as undue staring upon Pharoth's person was an insult to him. We began the long walk up the stairs, the solid gold blinding anyone who averted their gaze from the top. I had helped build the staircase, and knew that if I looked straight forward and slightly down I could both avoid the glare of the steps themselves in the sun and still be able to watch my path up them properly, and did so. Jebus beside me watched me for a moment, realized what I was doing, and followed suit. It occurred to me that, if we were seen together like this, that Pharoth might misconstrue it as some kind of bonding, or prayer, which would undoubtedly make things much harder for us both, in that we would probably be disemboweled and left to rot in the sun a few days before being thrown off. I quickly glanced upwards, ignoring the blinding flashes in my eyes, and trudged on.
At the top the stairs plateau into a fifty-foot square platform on which rests his holy personage and his family, not to mention many guards and slaves, protecting/servicing them. Our Lord And Master sat, sprawling, upon his massive golden throne, eating small slices of fish being served to him by a beauty on the eyes, a buxom slave, who's assets bounced and swayed in the open with her every move. We all followed her as she moved from one son to another and back to Pharoth, all except Jebus, whose gaze locked onto the form of Our Lord And Master from the second he was within range. Knowing that being next to him, despite his, and my, promise, was worth a much worse death than I was expecting, I tried to move to one side, but both Jebus himself and a guard stopped me, one with a gentle hand, the other with a lash to the calf. Resigned to my fate, I stood beside Jebus, trying to appear as steadfast as he, trying to prepare myself for death.
Pharoth too was lost in the massive cleavage of his slave, and did not notice the slaves before him for a few moments. When he did, however, he was a hurricane of smug superiority. "Why are they still standing, captain? Why have they not yet prostrated themselves before my royal feet?"
In seconds we were pushed to the floor, forced to bow for him. One man tried to resist, and was unceremoniously pushed from the stairs. Pharoth waited for the sound of the poor man's head colliding with the ground far below before continuing. "Ah, what a wonderful sound. I never get tired of that noise. Guards, please arrest that man for executing a slave without my express permission. Thank you. Now then. Down to business. All of you have been caught in a lie, a most heinous act, one which must be dealt with swiftly and surely. However, before you are thrown from my sight, you may speak your peace to me, perhaps in some vain hope that I will change my mind and grant you, or your fellows, mercy, or just to engorge your sense of moral superiority by insulting my person. You, the tall one who so brashly came to me yesterday, you may go first. Come, stand, and speak your mind to your Master."
Jebus stood, face impassive, still looking straight at Our Lord And Master, their eyes locked. Taking a few swift, calm steps, he stood before the throne. Pharoth smiled, a grim grin, and said, "Interesting. This one still refuses to show me proper respect. Perhaps I will not grant my usual allowance of final words."
"That would be a grand mistake, Pharoth. For if you do, you will be destroying your only chance to escape my wrath. You have subjugated these people for too long, and now it is I who shall stop you. I hope that you believe that your cause is just, and good, for when you reach your final judgment perhaps you may go to the Abyss confused and afraid, the same as these poor souls whom you doom day in and day out. I will give you but one chance to save yourself from death, Pharoth. Leave this place now, and take your family and guards with you, never to return. Then I shall spare your life. I cannot promise the same of your slaves, former slaves, I should say, but I personally will not pursue you. If, however, you scoff me, or do not allow me to finish, you will be dead before you realize it. I am here as an envoy from God, the great and merciful creator of this world. He is not pleased with your conduct, and believes that the time has come for you to be removed from your throne and for another to claim it. I am that someone."
Silence. I looked behind me, and those far below had stopped, had heard. Now I knew what I had suspected all along, what I had feared: Jebus was a lunatic.
Pharoth cocked his head to one side, mirth in his eyes and lips. But he did not laugh. He merely said, "That's nice. Guards? Throw him over."
The guards moved to obey. Jebus raised one hand, palm open, towards Pharoth. He began clenching his hand into a fist, and Our Lord And Master, incredulity on his face, began to choke. He grabbed at his throat, coughing and gasping for air, as if some invisible hand had grasped his neck and was squeezing, much like Jebus's hand was doing to thin air.
He wasn't insane. He was a god.
Pharoth gave one last choke, then went limp in his throne, dead. Jebus opened his hand and lowered it to his side, walked to the dead man, and raised him up like a child. He walked to the edge of the stairs, held Our Former Lord And Master over his head, and shouted for all the world to hear.
"Pharoth is dead!"
The cheer could be heard from several universes away.
Guards, unable to think for themselves, leaped from the platform to avoid his wrath, not considering the fall. The slaves, finally having freedom, in their joyous cavorting too leaped from the platform, also not considering the fall. Among all the chaos going on around me, I stood, barely comprehending what had just happened. We had a new ruler, one who could kill with a motion. I did not see how it was a better thing.
Then Jebus spoke again.
"My people, do not kill your captors. Embrace them, in brotherly love, for you are all now equals under me, and I am your new Lord. Instead, continue working, for although Pharoth's methods were not appealing, his goals were. Now, please, return to your duties. Guards, throw down your weapons and join your brothers, aid them in their work."
No reaction. Some guards began to speak, but were cut off by the same power that had killed Pharoth. A simple glance from Jebus and they were dead. After this happened several times, the remaining guards quickly dropped their whips and swords and picked up rope, pulling the huge stones that made up the city alongside slaves, who took the news much as they had when Pharoth took power from his father. The joy of their revolution had passed as soon as it had come.
Business as usual around here.
Jebus turned to me, being the only one still on the platform. He dropped lightly into the throne and spoke, his voice now softer, calmer. "Thank you for believing in me, Joseph. Your faith will be rewarded in the next life. For this one, however, please return to your duties."
He turned to a small man standing beside him and began making demands in the same soft tone. I began the long trek back down the stairs.
I was but a slave, a slave to the great kingdom of Nafaraith, under Our Lord And Master, Jebus, who, by divine right, ruled all he surveyed with the blessing of God. Until the day that a savior came, an unstoppable force of good, known as Budham.