All Kindreds

6: All Nations, Kindreds, Tongues, and Peoples

Liz gasped and swayed as the stage began a descent. The section of platform dropped through the floor and into a cavern below as lights flashed, thunder crashed.

The producer's voice boomed from the walls. "Tonight, remember, you will not stagger, nor glance around. Poise, remember poise. Just stand in place until I bring you up again. Horns of hell, why are the flames not working?"

Liz's knees wobbled as the platform reversed direction and rose back into the ceiling.

"That is all?" the actor asked.

The producer snorted in assent as he poked at his control panel.

"You don't need an actor for this part. Any fool from the audience could fill the spot. This is an insult both to my acting abilities and to my faith." The disgruntled minotaur stamped out of the room.

Liz sat against the wall and watched the producer tweaking his controls, grumbling and huffing and scowling at the obstinate terminal. "Master," she said at last. "I am weak with hunger. May I please have a meal?"

"What? What?" he bellowed, nostrils flaring as he turned to glare at her. "The flames won't work, and you ask for food? Why must I be plagued with trials at the last minute? Food you'll get after the performance. If you do your part well."

Liz bowed her head and sighed. In this culture, the word "contract" obviously had different meanings. For the minotaur actor, it meant an agreement between equals when one provided service to the other for pay. For a penniless, homeless human, it meant a deed of ownership.

Creatures of several different species came to troubleshoot the special effects equipment. Liz overheard comments about patrons arriving early for tonight's pageant. Apparently it had been geared towards minotaurs, but a surprising number of other beings had joined the crowd. "Looks like you've struck a common chord," one technician said.

"I seem to remember a similar prophecy in the ancient lore of my own kindred," another said.

"Among my people, as well," said a third.

Liz blinked. "All nations, kindreds, tongues, and peoples," she murmured to herself.

"The question is not whether we strike common chords," the minotaur grumbled, "but whether we strike fire. Can you not find the problem? We are scheduled to begin any moment."

"This should fix it. There, the status light shows all in order."

"Clear the stage, all but the actors. Furry-head, you lazy lump, get in place."

Liz struggled to her feet. Her limbs felt wobbly as springs, and she had to fight off a dizzy spell as she stepped up beside the reluctant minotaur actor. Two other players stood beyond him. She glanced at them once, then again.

The pageant producer began his narration, speaking into this world's variation of a microphone, and his voice boomed underfoot. "Look! A door opens in heaven, and a voice like the sound of a trumpet speaks forth--"

"Sacrilege," muttered the minotaur beside Liz, his eyes dark and brooding.

"I am beginning to share your feelings," said the third actor, a golden-furred being with a heavy mane and bright feline eyes. "If I had seen the script in advance, I never would have taken the part. Though I must admit he pays well."

"Come see the things that must take place! Come see the throne in heaven, the throne encircled by rainbows!"

"Pays well, pays well," muttered the fourth. "Perhaps for you the pay would be worth it. I did not know this world was so heavy. It pains me in body as well as spirit."

Liz craned to get a better look at the last speaker. The feathered creature rested her forward thrusting body on a support molded to her frame. She panted with the effort of speaking. Fully man-sized, much larger than the largest condor of Earth, she could never fly in a world like this. She obviously came from a planet of much lesser gravity.

An eagle. A lion. A bull. And one lost member of the human race.

Liz drew a sharp breath as it all fell into place.