The armored heavy-freight train Titan’s Burden hissed to a halt at the Mile Zero end-post on sixteen sets of dual-piston air brakes, venting a cloud of white steam that smelled richly of hot metal tube oil and wet ballast stone.
Stretching across four coupled heavy-duty flatcars was a wooden shipping crate the size of a two-story town hall.
The crate was built of six-inch thick white pine planks banded with load-bearing iron straps, stenciled in bold black lettering: CAUTION: Giant stone PIEZOELECTRIC QUARTZ CORE — NET WEIGHT 500 TONS — DO NOT TIP — KEEP DRY.
Gathered on the high concrete platform of the freight end-post were nearly a thousand priests, guildmasters, and country dignitaries, all draped in ritual vestments.
Three dozen priests in white silk were chanting hymns and swinging brass censers that puffed thick clouds of sandalwood smoke over the locomotive’s steel cowcatcher.
“Behold the Divine Infant of the World,” High Priest Malric chanted, his arms outstretched toward the crate.
“Born of the deep earth’s womb, brought forth upon iron rails to wake up the sleeping soul of heaven.”
Giles Croft stepped off the high-speed hoist car at the base of the Spire, his canvas jacket unbuttoned, his tool belt slung over his hip. His yellow notepad clutched in his left fist.
