I discovered the city was a very ancient one. It had been the seat of the American emperors for centuries, even in those days when the emperor ruled the whole North American continent, and Brazil besides. In saying this, I do not wish to belittle the power of the Emperor in our own times. Even today, his dominion is vast indeed, including the kingdoms of America from Manitario west to the Pacific ocean, and south as far as the wastes of Mexico.
Saskatoon is also a great centre of learning. It is said to have been the birthplace of the great engineer and architect Tuno Peefe (or, if you prefer, Tunotric). I spent many long hours in the great libraries of the city searching for ancient manuscripts by this great man, hoping I would uncover some valuable lost secret. In fact, I did succeed in finding several ancient works he had written, but, alas, none of them contained anything useful, and they were really of no more than historical interest. Some of his theories on building were quite wrong, or at the very least simplistic, so, in the interest of those who might come after me, I scratched out the various mistaken passages and wrote in my corrections before returning the documents to their shelves in the library. If only more people would do this, it is my belief that the growth of human knowledge would be accelerated.
Aside from its extraordinary fortifications, the architecture of Saskatoon was competent but unremarkable in its styling. Even the emperor’s palace was not especially innovative or beautiful, merely very large. But one aspect of that building intrigued me: I could see the top of a tall triangular structure within the palace walls. It was like a ramp of some kind, and I observed people climbing it and descending it, but I could not discern its function. When I asked around, people told me it was the emperor’s luma, but they did not know what it was for, or if they did know, they did not wish to tell me. I was very intrigued, but any further investigation was impossible: the luma was not on the plans for the palace, and it was situated in one of the emperor’s private gardens, making it quite inaccessible to me.
I rarely caught a glimpse the emperor himself in those days. He lived in the central part of the palace, which was completely shut off from the area occupied by the Imperial Aunt and her son. He kept himself hidden away most of the time, almost like a prisoner, despite his unimaginable wealth and power. In fact, compared to him, even a wealthy woman like the Imperial Aunt Diaphrone was insignificant, for she was merely one of dozens of Imperial Aunts and Imperial Uncles, and cousins and nephews, none of whom might even set eyes upon the emperor unless they had first made an appointment through his courtiers, many months ahead of time.
After six months or so, I had brought Pandrick to a level of behaviour I deemed appropriate to his age and position. I went to the boy’s mother then and said, “I consider my work to be complete. The rest of the boy’s training may easily be completed by ordinary tutors.”
She said, “Oh, you have done a wonderful job with Pandrick. He is so sweet-natured now that I am even tempted to hug him myself, and everyone around the palace speaks of how much he is improved over what he once was.”
I said, “Then I trust you will be gracious enough to pay the fee we agreed on.”
She said, “Certainly. What amount did we say?”
I said, “Ten thousand arrans, of which one thousand have already been paid.”
She gasped then, and said, “Is that all? I cannot believe we agreed to so little.”
I said, “No, ten thousand arrans was the sum, and I am content with this amount.”
She said, “Come, let me pay you more. Will you take sixteen thousand?”
It was like my conversation with Gavor Hercules. And, just as I had said to him, I told her I wanted only the sum we had first agreed on and nothing more, for this is my way, as a man of honour. “And if you deem my work was worth more,” I added, “then I am flattered by your praise and pleased you consider my work to have been of such good value to you.”
She was touched at my words, and she said, “Very well, I will pay you the sum you ask. But let me arrange other employment for you. Stay with us and teach young Pandrick further. Or, if you wish, I will arrange for you to train other children within the Imperial family, for there are many who could use your loving guidance.”
I said, “If you wish, I will stay on as an occasional teacher to Pandrick, however I do not wish to train other children, for I feel my talents in that direction are subordinate to my true calling.”
She asked me then, “What do you consider your true calling to be?”
I said, “I am a stonemage by profession.”
She said, “A stonemage? Surely not!”
You see, like so many others I had met in that region of America, she considered the art of the stonemage to be a lowly one and did not realize the stonemage is the king of mages.
I said, “I am not just any stonemage, but the world’s finest.”
“Yes,” she said, “but it is a profession of rocks and mud.”
I said, “Is not teaching also a humble profession? Yet you have seen for yourself what wonders I have worked in this area. And I assure you, I am a hundred times better as a stonemage than I am as a teacher.”
My words pricked her curiosity. She said, “If this is true, what kind of marvels do you build?”
I said, “Wait, and I shall show you.” Then I ran to my chambers and took the various plans I had been working on. I quickly returned to the Imperial Aunt and rolled out the plans before her, with the topmost plan being the one for the cathedral shaped like a hand.
She said, “What is this? A drawing?”
I said, “No, it is the plan for a cathedral. See here, I have drawn a little person upon the ground, so you can see the great size of it.”
She gasped then, and spent a minute or so silently studying at my plan. Then she looked at some of the other plans. There were a number of fine towers, and a great bridge designed to span a lake or a small sea, and an arena, and a large printing shop with a tower on it styled to look like a bird in flight.
At last she said, “I am no authority on buildings, but these plans strike me as truly remarkable. You are clearly an architect and stonemage without equal, for you transform plain buildings into spectacular works of art.”
I said, “I would like to receive the funds and assistance to create all these structures. How would you advise me to proceed?”
She said, “This is the Imperial City, and only the emperor may commission great works such as these. Of course, I could speak to him, but he knows I am no expert in this discipline, and my words will carry little weight. No, if you will take my advice, you will approach the emperor through his closest courtiers, for these are the men and women who execute all the emperor’s plans, and they are also the ones with the real influence over him. Buy them wine and expensive gifts. You will win their friendship that way, and they will do you favours to aid you in your worthy cause.”
I asked her then which courtiers would have most influence in matters of architecture, but she could not advise me. “You are a clever fellow, though,” she said. “Make a study of them. I am certain you will quickly determine who can give you the best service in return for your gifts.”
I thanked her gladly for her sound advice and resolved I would follow it to the letter. So I spent some gold around the town in exchange for detailed insights into the makeup of the emperor’s court.
I discovered there were various ranks of courtier. All wore identical white robes, but, if you looked carefully, you could tell them apart by the combs in their long hair.
Those who served the various members of the emperor’s family, like the tedious man who escorted me from Belpinian, were of the lowest rank. They were known as the Imperial Service, and they wore gold combs stamped with the mark of the family member they served.
Next up were the Imperial Bearers. These men and women, and there were hundreds of them, were courtiers who served the emperor in som
e minor capacity, for example, by purchasing food, or overseeing the numerous garden slaves. They wore gold combs stamped with the emperor’s mark.
Above these in rank were the Imperial Attendants. There were only about fifty, and they worked much more closely with the emperor. They too wore combs stamped with the emperor’s mark, but the combs were a little thicker and heavier, and contained more gold.
Highest of all in rank were the Imperial Advisors. These were six in number, five of them women and all of them old, and they wore combs with coloured gems along the top.
To add to the confusion, there were subtle distinctions within these four broad divisions. For example, among the Imperial Bearers, some bore special additional markings upon their comb. If they had balls there, it indicated they worked within the household. If they had tweaks, it showed they held a favoured position, and the more tweaks they had, the higher the degree of favour. There were numerous other markings, too: horses, leaves, rope, and so on, all indicating subtle differences in status.
At first, all these combs looked very much the same to me, but after a time I became so adept at recognizing the different markings that I wondered how anyone could think they were alike, and I chided myself for my blindness in not seeing the differences from the beginning.
As for the other citizens of Saskatoon, they did not wear combs at all, nor did they wear white robes. In fact, to do so, if you were not a courtier, was considered a very grave crime, and in the market you would often hear people complaining about how unfair it was that they were not allowed to wear a gold comb or white robes even in the privacy of their own homes. For myself, though, I could not see why anybody should want to wear such a ridiculous outfit, and if a man walked the streets of Piapa wearing such garments, he would be the laughing stock of Cyprus. Still, the people of Saskatoon thought the costume a very fine one, which just goes to show that foreign folk are very strange.
I made a number of friends among the courtiers. I did not try to win the friendship of the high-ranking Imperial Advisors, for these people constantly received lavish gifts from members of the emperor’s family who wanted this or that, and I knew I could not compete against such great wealth. I therefore took a different strategy. I sought out those courtiers who were of low rank (and therefore cheap to impress), but who were likely to attract the emperor’s attention in some way.
For example, I discovered that one of the new courtiers, an Imperial Bearer by the name of Sooni, was an attractive young man, and highly skilled as a dancer. I said to myself, “I will warrant he dances sometimes for the emperor, and that, on these occasions, the emperor chats with him in a friendly tone. If the emperor hears good words about me from a man such as this, it will be at such a time when he has been well entertained and is in a receptive mood, and such reports are likely to be far more influential than those coming from those ugly old Imperial Advisors.”
So, I sought the acquaintance of this man Sooni, and, for the cost of just a few arrans spent on fine meals, I made him my friend.
There were others too, of course. In the ranks of the courtiers I found two other male dancers, a man who played the harp, a woman who sang, a husband and wife who performed poetry, and also several women who possessed no special performing skills, but who struck me as unusually charming and beautiful: I had heard, you see, that the emperor has an eye for lovely women, and I was sure these women would catch his eye in a particularly favourable way.
An added advantage to my plan was that the new friends I made were very interesting and delightful people to be around, and were accomplished in many fields, so my time with them was always well spent.
I asked no difficult favours of my courtier friends, but I showed them my building plans, which impressed them greatly, then I said, “Do not make any bold overtures on my behalf, for you might risk offending the emperor. However, if, by chance, the emperor happens to strike up a conversation with you, then I would be much obliged if you would try to mention my name in a casual way, reflecting, perhaps upon my successes in training the formerly incorrigible Pandrick, or praising my skills as a stonemage.”
And I suggested to the musicians that they might write a song in my honour, and said to the dancers that they should name a dance after me. I also asked the poetic couple if they would write a poem about me, but they said they only performed ancient works. Still, they assured me they would mention me to the emperor as a great patron of the poetic arts.
This, in any case, was my plan, and it very soon started to work. Several of my courtier friends told me they had been approached by the emperor, and they all managed to drop my name subtly into the conversation.
However, it was not these ingenious ploys which finally gained me the emperor’s attention, but rather a very remarkable feat of mine. I will tell of this next.
A Seventh Section Of The Eleventh Part
In Which I Describe How I Achieved Further Fame In Saskatoon
One day, not long after I had received my money for training Pandrick, I was enjoying a fine meal in Dochi’s pie shop, which is situated not far from the palace. Dochi, like me, was originally from Cyprus, although he was from the western side of the island, from the town of Limmerhat in the Duchy of Bayon. We had little in common, really, he being a cook and I a stonemage, but we always gave each other a friendly greeting, and occasionally we would sing some of the old songs together.
I was sitting, talking pleasantly with one of Pandrick’s other tutors. Her name was Hanna, and she was an older woman who was an expert in geometry and a great admirer of my building plans.
Suddenly our pleasant conversation was interrupted by a commotion. Three of the emperor’s minor courtiers burst into the place, carrying light hunting spears and a big yellow hare they had killed. They were staggering, and it was clear they were the worse for wine.
One of them slammed the animal down upon the counter and said to the owner, “Here, Dochi, cook this up for us, and make it into a pie, will you.”
Well, Dochi was a quiet, pleasant fellow, and he said he would do his best, but it would take some time to cook the meat.
“How long?” said the courtier.
“Two hours,” said Dochi.
His answer did not please them at all. “We have been hunting all afternoon and we are hungry,” they said. “We will not wait. Bake us our pie immediately!”
Of course, Dochi said he could not, for these things take time, but his reasonable words made them angry, and they started to curse at him, smashing his plates and calling him a fool. They said then that all Cypriots were fools.
Well, this was more than I could bear. I stood and called out to them, saying, “Hoi! You there! Stop at once.”
They looked over to me then and spoke a few words among themselves. Then the ring leader said, “Who are you to speak to the emperor’s own courtiers like that?”
I said, “My name is Yreth, and it so happens I am one of those Cypriots you are so quick to insult.”
He shook his spear then, taunting me, so I snatched out my throwing-razor, and I would have sent it through his skull on the spot had Hanna not quickly grabbed my wrist. She whispered to me, “Take care, Yreth. Do not strike at them, for any blow they receive is a blow against the emperor, and you will be put to death for it.”
Well, these words cooled me off a little, so I put the throwing-razor upon the table, then I slowly wiped my mouth with a cloth while I thought what to say, all the while keeping my eyes on those drunken courtiers with their spears.
Finally, I said, “In the first place, you would do well to remember your manners. Good Dochi has said your pie will take two hours. If that is too long for you to wait, go and cook it yourselves. In the second place, Cypriots are not fools.”
The ring leader said, “Indeed, they are fools. The world knows that Cyprus produces the greatest fools that were ever born.”
I knew he was trying to go
ad me, but I was determined not to be provoked. Besides, a much better plan was entering my head, for I thought to challenge them in some way, although I did not wish to be too obvious about it.
I started by saying to them, “As to the question of folly, I am no expert, and therefore I will bow to your own superior experience in this matter.”
The ring leader smirked at my words, for he did not see how cleverly I was insulting him.
Then I said, “I will say this, though: we Cypriots are better cooks than you Americans. And do not deny it, either, for you could have taken your animal to any cook in the city, yet you brought it here, to the oven of a Cypriot. Moreover, I will say that we Cypriots are better hunters than you Americans, for it took all three of you to catch just one hare. I will wager I could outdo your success, even hunting alone.”
They grew interested then, as I knew they would, and said, “How much will you wager?”
I said, “If I lose, I will pay you ten thousand arrans.”
They did not believe I possessed so much gold, but I assured them that indeed I did, and they had only to check with the courtiers who served the Imperial Aunt Diaphrone to find out my claims were true.
Then they said, “And what if we lose?”
I said, “If you lose, I want your gold combs as trophies of my victory.”
Everyone in the room was at eyebrows-and-tongues when I made this challenge, for, as I have said, these combs are the mark of a courtier’s rank, and if these men were to surrender them, they would also lose their favoured positions.
The three courtiers talked among themselves for a few minutes, considering my wager, although I harried them as they talked, saying, “Come then, what is it to be? Is it yes or no? Do not be all day about it!” This, you see, was my way of getting back at them for interrupting my conversation with Hanna by their din.
The Ultimate Stonemage: A Modest Autobiography Page 26
