The next morning, while Ulduk climbed ever higher into the mountains above Oortou, four Atakalan men were far below and slightly east, trailing the Goth army of Odoacer through a dense jungle. They had followed the Goths for almost a week, waiting for the opportune moment to rescue their fellow Atakalans who had been taken prisoner. They were losing focus.

  Zartro the Tenth, ruler of Atakala, had found a weathered chunk of wood along the path, which remarkably was an almost perfect cube. He carried it with him, drumming on the top with a stick and singing made up songs as he marched along the trail left from the army that had earlier passed through.

  “Could you drum a little softer?” asked Neb. “I don't want that army turning around to see what all the commotion is.”

  “Ack, let him be,” said Corran. “They're a day ahead of us… they can't hear us way back here.”

  “She'll be coming 'round the jungle, she'll be coming 'round the jungle…” continued Zartro.

  “Doesn't it seem a little strange to anyone that this army is heading deeper into Atakala, even after all those gifts we gave them? Joao?”

  “Now here is a question,” said Joao, ignoring him. “If one were to saw that block of wood Zartro found into six square sheets, such an entrepreneur could fasten them together, forming a cabinet large enough to hold a cabbage. Yet, if one were to saw that block into twenty-four square sheets, a cabinet much larger in volume could be constructed, each side consisting of four squares. Do you see what I am getting at?”

  Neb sighed. Joao's ancestor Jaw had been the same way. Neb didn't have anything against the ramblings, and they certainly beat listening to Zartro. Yet, there was something disconcerting about waking up on Earth after a two hundred year nap and discovering that some character traits never die. Is this the future we have to look forward to? Will my descendants be tall, gangling outcasts chasing after armies through the jungle, wondering when the next headache or nosebleed will come?

  “You could store eight cabbages,” proffered Corran.

  “Well, yes, but that is not my point. Let us assume I had a sufficiently fine-grained saw, and could cut the cube into fifty-four sheets. That would create a cabinet which could store twenty-seven cabbages, yet still use the same amount of wood.”

  “What's your point?” asked Neb. “At some point you couldn't make a cabinet anymore… the wood would be too flimsy to stay together.”

  “In reality yes, but my question is theoretical in nature. What if one continued this indefinitely? Is there a limit in how large of a cabinet one could construct?”

  “Of course,” retorted Neb, though he wasn't really sure.

  “Let us consider any sufficiently large cabinet. Could I not find a thin enough blade to cut more pieces and make it larger?”

  “You'd be left with nothing but sawdust, drifting through the air. Or maybe just air.”

  “Ah, but could not sawdust be divided? Even if one cannot see such a thin film, it must exist, no?”

  “I don't think so. If that were true, you could fit all of Atakala into such a cabinet… even all of the Earth!”

  “But it follows logically from my argument.”

  “It is absurd! All that from a half-rotten stump!”

  “Then let us assume the opposite. Let us assume there is some thin, indivisible strip of wood that forms the sides of the largest cabinet possible. How large is that cabinet?”

  “How would I know?”

  “You're the one who said there would be a limit. Could it hold a cow? An elephant?”

  “Of course not. It would destroy the cabinet just by breathing.”

  “That is not what I mean. Consider, say, a breathless, massless, cubical cow. How large could the cow be?”

  “My head hurts.”

  “Me thinks that cow is dead. So what you have is a cubical hamburger,” noted Zartro, momentarily breaking his singing.

  “Ten feet tall,” suggested Corran.

  “Stop encouraging him.”

  “Ah, now we're getting somewhere. Now what if I split the sides in half using a very small knife, forming an even larger cabinet–”

  “Aaaagh!” Neb put his head in his hands. “You said the strip of wood was indivisible. Now you are dividing it!”

  Joao waved his arm dismissively. “Forget about wood. Maybe it is rock, maybe water. In any case, do you deny that it has thickness?”

  “Of course it has thickness.”

  “Then there must be some material, which is thinner, that could replace it by forming a larger sheet.”

  Neb frowned. “This cannot be. If that were the case, there would be no end to what you could put in the cabinet. You could fit not only the Earth, but the stars as well!”

  “Yes,” said Corran. “You are taking a head sized piece of wood and using it to hold the universe. That is ridiculous.”

  “Then there is a limit, either physical or mathematical, to how thin something may be before it is no longer a thing?”

  The three stared at each other. Zartro raced ahead of them beating his drum, oblivious to the stress he was causing. He almost ran into the back of a wooden cart.

  “Woah… traffic ahead!” he exclaimed, stumbling backwards at the sight of three angry barbarians walking toward him, silver-studded clubs in their right hands and black ropes in their left.

  “I thought you said they were a day ahead of us.”

  “Er, they must have stopped.”

  “Where are we, anyway?” All four Atakalans backed away from the approaching barbarians.

  “Just north of Oortou.”

  “Another siege, then? I thought they were leaving us! Why can't these people just leave us alone?”

  “Only one thing to do, then,” muttered Neb.

  “What's that?”

  “Run!”

  They turned to flee but collided into four more Goths who had appeared behind them.

  Thick ropes dropped over the Atakalans and they were marched into Odoacer's camp. As they walked, Joao caught Corran's eye and nodded upwards. Corran followed his gaze and gasped. A thin column of smoke was drifting away from the top of a jagged peak at the end of the valley.

  “The volcano,” whispered Corran. “That's Oort Peak, isn't it?”

  “One and the same,” answered Joao.

  “Wow, I didn't realize it was so close to the city. No wonder Umanion says Oortou is in danger.”

  “They did not heed our warnings to flee… and now the city faces an army at its front and a volcano at its rear.”

  Corran peered ahead to the city at the end of the valley. Soldiers manned the towers above sealed gates. “They hold their position. Do they still not believe us?”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “It may be that Oort Peak often smokes. Or they still think we want them to abandon the city so we may take it over. The presence of this army doesn’t help.”

  “I don’t know which is worse for them, the volcano or these Goths.”

  The four were shoved into a large tent filled with the din of Atakalan prisoners catching up on news since the last siege, as well as sharing gossip about a member of their company who had escaped in the middle of the night. The commotion stopped instantly as they looked up and surveyed the newcomers.

  “Uh, greetings. I'm Zartro the Tenth, king of Atakala, and these are my advisers: Corran, Joao, and Neb.”

  The silence was broken by an old woman with a young girl clinging to her waist.

  “You're here to rescue us, then? All in this tent are Atakalans.”

  “Ah, er, yes, shortly.”

  “Wonderful, we'll just gather our belongings.” The prisoners tidied their garments, smoothed out their hair, and looked up at Zartro expectantly. The Goth guards shuffled uneasily.

  “Er, no need to hurry,” said Neb. He turned to Joao. “Joao, do you have a plan?”

  Joao thought for a minute, and then addressed the guards. “You fine warriors don't happen to speak Atakalan, do you?”

  The guards gave him a blank stare. “Sprichst du Deutsch?” tried one.

  “Odoacer. Bring me Odoacer.”

  “Right here,” said a thunderous voice as Odoacer stepped into the tent. “Ah, Zartro, King of Atakala! I heard there vere guests, but I did not expect such royalty. Vat, may I ask, do you vant?”

  “Um, we gave you those gifts so you would leave Atakala. How come you turned around and marched further into our nation?”

  Odoacer looked stricken. “Ah, but Zartro! You said vee should leafe Atakala. So vee did! Surely you do not claim sofereignty over the Arush, vhile at die same time promising them they are free from your heafy hand?”

  “They may be free,” answered Joao, “but we are sworn to protect them. From the Amono to the Oueme, you have no right to any of these lands.”

  “I think it is you vho has no right,” laughed Odoacer. "I come vith an army of a thousand men. You come vith… I don't know… four men and a square log. But here is vhat I vill do. You may go free, and I will besiege and plunder every city I come across be they Atakalan or not. Ist a deal?”

  “Er, you will stay south of Oortou, then?”

  “Zartro!” chastised Joao. He knew as well as Zartro that the four tribes south of Oortou, the Arush, the Aman, the Riamb, and the Emin, were the four tribes that still refused to join Atakala, rejecting the words of the Great One.

  “Vee vill see,” said Odoacer.

  “A private word, first,” said Joao, pulling Zartro to him. “Just because they haven't joined us doesn't mean we should hand them over to the enemy!”

  “Technically,” said Corran, “they are in a state of war with us.” The thought of returning to Tsyanou and letting the Goths do their thing was starting to appeal to him.

  Joao narrowed his eyes. “Do you not remember the words of Umanion, handed down upon the red bricks? They state: 'Atakala shall be a great and powerful land. It is to stretch from the Atakora Plateau all the way south to the Dala Swamp. The Amono River is its western border, and the Oueme River its eastern. Every tribe within this land is to be protected under the provision of the Atakalan government, which shall be based in Tsyanou. Every act possible must be taken to ensure the unity and peace of Atakala. If any tribe or village refuses to follow the will of these records or that of the central government, it is to be treated with respect in all circumstances, gently prodded and offered hope of a share in the wealth of the land, until the wayward tribe sees its error and joins the Great and Forever Powerful Atakala.' See? We are supposed to protect the southern lands. Nothing is said about letting enemies run them over.”

  “Oh come on. The barbarians don't stand a chance against the swamp lovers. Oortou might fall but you know what comes next! Swamps, bogs, marshes, caimans, flies, dragons… they'll get lost and drown before they find another city to besiege. Our traders can't even find a safe passage through that mess.”

  “Unless they turn west to the forests and grasslands. The Aman wouldn't stand a chance. Remember how Makoi was razed? Think thirty years behind the times, no walls, and way too much dry grain sitting around in sheds.”

  “Maybe they would join us if they felt more threatened. We've been protecting them from invaders for hundreds of years, and a lot of good it has done us.”

  Neb spoke up. “I remember when none–not one–of the tribes were part of Atakala. Yet the three of us: Jaw, Zartro and I, traveled to Sentinel City, setting into motion the founding of a new nation. What would this land be if we had ignored the advice on those stones, or if the Tief had cast us away? Perhaps this is your time, your chance, to make a sacrifice for the sake of the tribes. Perhaps three hundred years from now, no one will remember the time when the southern tribes were at war with Atakala.”

  “I thought you didn't believe in the redbricks,” said Corran.

  “I thought so, too. But now I'm not so sure. In any case, I believe in this nation. I remember standing on Mount Sped, and I knew in that moment that one day I would see peace come to every tribe in this land. To the Tief, to the Khand… even to the swamp lovers. That feeling, on Mount Sped, that was real! I swore to myself I would never forget it.”

  Odoacer interrupted them. “Hafe you made a decision yet? Vill you leave me be? Or hafe you found a gift sufficient to persuade me to take my army elsevhere?”

  Joao looked over the tent. “I think I do know of such a gift, but we will need to go fetch it.”

  “Ah. I like gifts! It is so much easier than sacking and pillaging! And vhat is left after a good sack and pillage tends to be a bit on the charred side for my tastes.”

  “There is one other thing. These prisoners you have taken. They are citizens of Atakala. Northern Atakala. Do what you will with the south until we return, but you must release these people.”

  “Vhy should I? They were not mentioned in our original agreement.”

  “Ah, true. An oversight on our part. Would have saved an awful lot of walking if we'd been clearer on that up front.”

  “They are mine now.”

  “Surely you are tired of them eating your food and taking up space?”

  Odoacer conferred with the guards.

  “Apparently, we had one trouble maker, but he's run off. The rest are vonderful little lambs. Yet, I do feel sorry you came all this way for nothing. And I suppose you will need some extra hands to delifer my gift.” He handed Joao a sack. “Here. Any you can fit into this sack may leafe this tent. Including you.” Odoacer chuckled. The Atakalans were so pathetic.

  “Hey!” protested Neb. There was room in the sack for Joao, Zartro, and possibly Corran if two legs and half a stomach counted. “You can't leave me behind.”

  Joao ignored him, taking the sack. “It is done. But, allow me to cut it to make it a little wider for my friend.”

  “Of course.” Odoacer handed Joao a small knife with a chuckle. “This is better than live theatre.”

  With the precision of an expert craftsman, Joao cut a zigzag pattern into the cloth.

  “What are you doing?” asked Corran in astonishment.

  Joao was silent until his work was finished. Then, standing, he let the cloth loose, except for a thin strip he held high above his head. The material unraveled until he held part of a long cord. With purposeful steps, he strode around the tent, the cord trailing behind him until it formed an immense hoop on the ground. “Let the Atakalans step within this sack!” he called out. “All who fit within its circumference shall be freed.”

  With some hesitation, the prisoners one by one stepped into the ring, last of all Neb, Zartro, and Corran, who were still in shock. “You don't really think he'll go for this, do you?” whispered Zartro.

  “And even if we are freed, what can we do for the swamp lovers? He wants a gift, but he already cleaned out Tsyanou. What else do we have?”

  “I don't know. All my life, I've specialized in gifts for enemies, but I feel like a tryo against these barbarians. It would take all the wealth of Rome to satisfy them. I will have to give it some more thought. At this point, I’m merely buying time.”

  Joao turned to Odoacer. “I have met your conditions. Will you let us fetch your gifts?”

  Odoacer was standing with his arms crossed, nodding. “You are a brave fool, Rope-Maker. Or perhaps I am the fool, because I hafe a mind to release the lot of you. My entire life, alvays I heard how strong and dangerous Atakala vas. Vhen I return home, I vill tell this story, about how veak and pitiful this nation is; how efen the king must step in a sack to bargain for his life. And this trick of yours… it makes a good laugh. So be gone, the lot of you. I hafe sleeping to do.”

  “You mean sieging?”

  “Ach–first I sleep. Tomorrow I siege. Hafe you not heard? 'I slept, I sieged, I left vith vagons of vealth.' Now scram, you'fe already delayed my nap.”

  The Atakalans were ushered out of the camp, into the jungle.

  “That went better than I expected,” said Neb, still in mild shock as he surveyed the group of prisoners.

  “Yeah, what a relief,” added Zartro. “We didn't even have to find a covert.”

  Neb turned to him. “You don't know what covert means, do you?”

  “Um, doesn't it carry water under the road?”

  “Of course not. How can I explain this? It's kind of like the opposite of you. Covert means–”

  “Wait!” interrupted Joao. “That's it!”

  “What's it?” asked Neb.

  “A culvert! We need the digditchers.” Joao looked over the Atakalans they'd freed from Odoacer. “None of you are digditchers by any chance, are you?”

  “I knew a guy who was a digditcher,” said one with a proud smile.

  “My cousin's marching band lost to them at Ralakiti,” declared another.

  “We had a digditcher put in a pool for us. Except he mixed up the deep and shallow ends. Every time we dive we hit our heads.”

  “I see, but none of you are Adalet yourselves?”

  “They wouldn't be,” answered Corran on their behalf. “Odoacer's army came through the north. These here are Mak and Ralak.”

  “We will need to fetch the digditchers then.”

  “What do you have in mind?” said Corran.

  “I propose we solve two problems with one volcano. Oort Peak is going to erupt soon, correct?”

  “Yes, we've repeatedly sent diplomats to Oortou, but they refuse to evacuate.”

  “And if we do nothing, the city will be destroyed by the volcano before it falls to the Goths.”

  “Right. Then the Goths’ll pick up whatever loot they can salvage and move on to the next village. And none of the other cities are as well defended as Oortou.”

  “The digditchers dig ditches to divert torrential floodwaters away from their village on Mount Sped. So if they can do the same for Oortou…”

  “You don't mean to say they might divert lava? This is not rainwater… it is melted rocks! Tens of feet deep, enough to destroy a city! No trench could be built in such a short time to withstand that. Moreover, it would take three days just to reach Adaletou and ask for their help. By then, Oortou might be a heap of ashes.”

  “Ah, but they are not in Adaletou. They are in Oklagut for the band festival, remember?”

  “You're right!” remembered Corran. “If only we had a horse; I could ride to Oklagut in an hour or two.”

  “Odoacer had a nice horse,” reminded Neb weakly.

  “And he's napping.”

  “Don't look at me,” said Neb. “I'll probably trip on something and fall unconscious for three hundred years.”

  “I'll fetch it,” said Joao. “Corran, figure out the best route to Oklagut so you'll be ready for the ride of your life. We have no time to spare. Zartro, lead the people away from the camp. If there is trouble, we cannot have them taken prisoner a second time.”