by Andy Sparrow
“Lord Vagis,” said Saloxe, “you will be pleased to know that I have decided to join you, and pay my respects to His Supreme Holiness.”
“A most unexpected pleasure,” His Lordship called back, masterfully concealing his true sentiments. They slotted into the column and left the city, following a long straight road with the sun behind them. At first they passed many small villages clustered around the temple domes where frightened people fed them when they rested. Torrin and Valhad travelled on the roof of the coach; one sat beside the driver, the other often sprawled across the rocking canopy. A gimballed hourglass divided their time into travelling, resting and sleeping. The cycles passed, the villages became fewer and the sun kissed the horizon. Cloud swept across the purple sky, merging to make a gray roof above them and then the rain began. The road wound in snaking curves from the plains and rose into the low weeping clouds. They toiled on in drizzling fog, past solitary wizened trees. The villages were empty now, awaiting the turning of the world and the dawn of the warming sun. They made their beds within the shuttered dwellings, and with no more tributes to enjoy from the wayside villagers, ate from the provisions that were carried with them.
The road descended out of the fog but the rain continued and grew colder. In this zone beyond the sun the overwhelming clouds made the world murky and dim. They journeyed on until before them, filling a wide valley from side to side, was a lake extending distantly. Strangely, the road vanished into the water and about them were houses half submerged while further out a temple dome made an island. Barges awaited them, but moored so far into the lake that a man needed first to swim out to the nearest one. A soldier, keen to impress, volunteered and plunged into the chill waters. Torrin turned to His Lordship who had stepped down from the coach to watch.
“Why are the boats moored so far from the shore?” he asked.
“The waters rise, Vasagi, the lake grows. The river flows into dark and coldness and then freezes. There is a dam of ice that holds the water back. When the world turns, when dawn comes, the ice will melt, the lake will drain and people will live again where the water now is deep.”
They loaded the barges, leaving the carriages and carts to return to sunlit lands. The soldiers rowed and they set off, the rain still falling upon them. There was no break in their journey now as one shift of rowers replaced another and the dim valley sides slipped past. It was now darker than ever it was when they had journeyed east in the ship. The wind was turning and blowing more from the south; it had a dry and icy jaggedness. The valley sides were lost in gloom but then became visible once more in ghostly form as if glowing faintly from within. Torrin wondered what made this strange effect and then he found that the rain was falling in soft white flakes. He had seen snow fall on the far southern plains, but there the ground was warm and it vanished as it landed; here it was piled high upon the hilltops. There was a new sound too as the barge cut through the water; a cracking and creaking of ice splitting. Torches were lit and the flotilla became a procession of bobbing jewels. The snow fell harder, and a bitter wind whined around them. It became altogether dark, and then in the distance, lights flickered.
There was a floating berth and walkway that led to broad steps lined either side with many lanterns. The snow had been cleared away and banked high, but more had fallen since to crunch beneath their feet. A priest, cloaked and hooded against the biting gusts and driving snow, greeted them. He led them up a long flight of winding steps between lanterns that rocked and quivered in the wind until a wall loomed above them and was lost in darkness all around. Doors creaked open and they entered a high domed chamber, their footsteps echoing on the tiled floor as the wind howled distantly. A hearth taller than a man was set against one wall and a fire of coals burned, filling the chamber with flickering light and monstrous shadows. They gathered before it, stamping on numb feet and warming their chilled hands. The cloaked priest addressed them.
“You will be shown to your chambers. At the first bell after waking His Supreme Holiness will take worship and then council.”
His Lordship was conducted to a small room, little more than a cell, but with a bed and a blazing coal fire. For Torrin there was no bed of any kind. Only a stool against his master's door that allowed brief uncomfortable periods of rest before cold forced him to tramp up and down the corridor. Eventually the waking bell tolled and sounds of activity filled the palace. His Lordship emerged in full regalia and they made their way toward the throne chamber. Torrin could only guess the scale of the palace as each high arched passage they followed converged with another and grew larger still. An uncountable number of lanterns lined the walls while candles clustered in multitudes on chandeliers that were all of one design; the triangle within the circle.
They did not walk alone; many others issued from the web of passages and were converging upon the throne chamber. Finally they passed through open doors that were greater than the city gates of Etoradom into an enormous hall. It was, as Torrin might have guessed, a triangle, but it was also a pyramid and three huge inclined walls rose to a summit high above them. The lower walls were stone but wooden shutters obscured the upper half. Torrin guessed correctly that the higher section was glass and that when this part of the world lay beneath the sun the chamber was bathed in light and warmth. Now the darkness was held back, and what warmth there was in this chill cavernous space was contained a little longer.
Standing empty was a throne carved from stone, entwined with creatures good and evil, noble and corrupt. Low balustrades divided the chamber. His Lordship turned to Torrin.
“You will remain in the outer area with the other servants and those not of the priesthood. I advise you to make some attempt to participate in the worship. Bowing the head and mumbling at the appropriate moments will be sufficient. Instruct your young friend likewise.”
His Lordship walked on to take his place nearer the throne. Valhad was already amongst those waiting in the outer zone and was gazing all around in bemused wonder. There were many people gathered in the chamber now, perhaps two hundred, but still it seemed a vast empty space waiting to be filled. Torrin gently guided Valhad to the back of the hall where they might be less observed and passed on His Lordship's instructions. Valhad laughed a little.
“For a deeply religious people they spend little time in worship.”
“You are mistaken,” whispered Torrin, “They are most devout in their worship of wealth and power.”
A fanfare silenced them and, at the opposite end of the chamber, doors swung slowly inwards. A procession of priests shuffled in, dressed in white robes. They were elders of the church, stooped and shuffling in their walk, gray in their dwindling hair. Next came a smaller group of younger priests, heavily armed with alert watchful eyes; the Emperor’s guard slid silently into their places, spacing themselves around the throne while the old men stood in a wider semicircle. Silence descended upon the chamber and was then disturbed by a distant sound growing louder; the tap, tap, of a staff upon the stone floor.
Torrin's first impression of the Emperor was to remind him of Perrith. There was a similarity in the upright posture, the deep thoughtful eyes, the skin creased like worn leather. But His Supreme Holiness was older, his close-cropped hair and beard snow-white, and his upright stance seemed brittle. He tried to hold the staff as if it were no more than a symbol of power, but when he took his deliberate steps across the chamber the knuckles squeezed it hard. He climbed the few steps to the throne and sat, resting the staff across his knees. Amongst those gathered a chanting voice began to recite some verses in an ancient tongue. The priests bowed their heads and mumbled occasional responses while the Emperor scanned them distastefully and remained silent.
Prayers followed, then a reading from the Text; finally there was an expectant silence and all eyes looked to the throne. The Emperor gave the subtlest of nods, which seemed to pass down through a hierarchy until Cardinal Saloxe was beckoned to step forward. He approached the throne and bowed subserviently.
/> “Supreme Holiness, I bring with me records of the city and its environs for your inspection.”
The Emperor fixed a predatory gaze upon the cardinal.
“How many volumes this time?” he demanded in an irritated, impatient tone.
“There are ten volumes, Supreme Holiness; the records are most comprehensive.”
“Cardinal, I have no interest in how many sacks of flour were sold last moon. What are you doing about the heretics? Tell me that.”
“There is a full report within the records.”
“Hidden in the records, buried in the records. Does you think I am stupid? Have your clerks extract from the volumes all matters relating to heresy and let them remain here until it is done.”
“Supreme Holiness, this will be done swiftly. Do not concern yourself overmuch with tales that reach you here; all is well in order. For our success in this we must thank Lord Vagis, who has taken charge of this issue in the city.”
Torrin saw His Lordship’s lip twitch slightly.
‘Yes,’ thought Torrin, ‘for our success, but also for our failure. Saloxe damns with praise.’
“Yes, indeed, Lord Vagis,” said the Emperor, “have him brought to the throne.”
His Lordship heard the words but waited for the chain of whispered summonses to reach him before walking forward to stand beside Saloxe.
“Lord Vagis,” said His Supreme Holiness, “I was pleased to hear of your return and of the cargo you brought to the treasury.”
“It is my honour to serve, Holiness.”
“The world has turned some since we were last in council, Lord Vagis.”
“It has, Holiness.”
“And have our plans progressed as intended?”
“Indeed, Holiness; all is now in place.”
“And no word of our purpose has escaped?”
“No, Holiness; it was as you commanded.”
“We should not forget it was my then clerk, now Cardinal Saloxe, who argued most forcibly for the measures to be taken.”
“I have not forgotten, Holiness, that your clerk… I beg forgiveness… that the Cardinal ensured that our activities and intentions could not be known to our enemies.”
‘They are talking about the ship,’ thought Torrin. ‘They paid the Qualzes to take the ship when it left Etoradom and to slaughter everyone aboard. That was Saloxe’s plan. It was part of the bargain they made at the Straits of Nencuz; but only part; there was another greater purpose that is still hidden.’
“All of you should know this,” said the Emperor, scanning the chamber, “that when I asked the Synod for one man to be my agent, to travel far and expand God’s empire, that only one man, only this man had both the courage to offer himself and the wisdom to complete the task. We thank God for his safe return.”
He looked again distastefully at the white-robed clerics.
“Will you look at these wise men, Lord Vagis? I asked you for service and you gave it to me. I ask these men one question; these, our most eminent theologians, and they fail me. Do you know I had them dragged from their beds, from their fine villas and warm concubines, to be brought here, just to answer this one question? But perhaps you, Lord Vagis, perhaps you might know an answer.”
“I am not a theologian, Holiness.”
“Let us show Lord Vagis why we spend our time here.” The elders shuffled uncomfortably; the Emperor barked at them impatiently.
“Well come on, make ready!”
The clerics dispersed and, after a little nervous confusion, spread around the room. Assisted by priests of lower ranks they lowered down the chandeliers and stubbed out the wicks, so that gradually the hall became dark. Only a few candles gathered around the throne remained and in their faint light the Emperor rose upon his staff. There was no sound of wind from outside now, only an expectant silence filled with heartbeats.
“Show us!” The Emperor's voice filled the darkness. For a moment all was quiet, and then the cords were pulled to release the shutters. High above them the countless wooden panels slid down within their runners, clattering, falling, cascading down to thudding impacts. A crashing wave of noise, followed by a moment’s silence, then two hundred intakes of breath released together as a single sigh of wonder.
The clouds had blown away, and beneath the glass pyramid the sea of upturned faces was bathed in starlight. Through all that is creation eyes turn to heaven and gaze upon many skies. For some there is but a scattering of stars across the velvet black, for others myriad moons, silver tailed comets and the wheels of fire that are galaxies. So it was here, in this little part of all that is, the sky was filled with glittering jewels and spirals of white fire. The Emperor's white hair glowed in the starlight as he looked again upon those gathered.
“We have heard many rumours, Lord Vagis, through many turnings of the world, about those that wandered into the darkness and saw jewels upon the sky. So I sent a mission here, into deep darkness, where no man has ever walked or lived. Not until now, for only Etoradom has the power to warm and feed a palace in this night of the world. They told me what they had seen and then I came. And I will not leave until I have an answer. What is this that we see?”
“Holiness,” said His Lordship, “I see how great is the Creation of God.”
“But what is it?”
“Surely Holiness, the Text…”
“The Text? All these so-called wise men have looked for the answer in the Text. And what is the best that they can do? The book of Grogram, chapter 24, verse 5: 'God shall scatter seeds to the winds of heaven'. What does that tell me? What use is that?”
His Lordship, gazing upwards, seemed distracted and thoughtful as he replied.
“Are we to know all of God's work, Holiness?”
“Do you know what the heretics will say? That it is not in the Text because men did not know of it, and men it was that wrote the Text; that it is not God's word. They already use our own scripture against us. I am not blind, I have seen the scrawling on the walls of the temples.”
“Such offences are much reduced, Holiness.”
“For how long? Even you, Lord Vagis, with all your efficiency, will not hold back the tide. And even you can give no answer to my question. Is there no one who can tell me of this?”
The Emperor stared again at the night sky and shook his head.
“Holiness.” Valhad's voice called across the chamber. Torrin cursed to himself and wished he had clamped a hand across his friend's mouth the moment the question was asked. The crowd turned as in the silver light Valhad stepped forward and spoke.
“Holiness. I am from a people far away and was not brought up in your faith. It is only recently that I have become a... scholar of the Text. My people are simple, we have no written scriptures, but to my tribe God is the Maker of all Things. Maker, not ruler or judge. After He made the world long ago, He made us and gave us a knowing of what is right and wrong. First he left the world standing still in the sky and then, long after passed by again and found us fat and lazy; that was why he breathed upon the world and made it slowly turn, so that we might never be still. But he is a maker, maker of worlds, maker of all things, maker of mischief… His work is never done. I think what you see now is his work; the countless suns that he has made to give light to countless worlds.”
There were mumbles in the chamber. 'Blasphemy' was whispered. The Emperor motioned for silence.
“Young man, I thank God you have come to our faith from heathen darkness but you have much still to learn. Study your Text with greater care and know that it is written that this world is the heart of all creation. We are unique, not one of many. To believe otherwise diminishes us. Learn this well before you speak out lest it be the Brothers of Redemption who complete your education. Now all of you listen, even this heathen born in ignorance can offer me an answer to this question but you fail me. There is some news for the heretics to delight in. Give me an answer, according to the Text. Or stay here until the sun rises again.”
Th
e Emperor walked briskly from the chamber, staff tapping a swift rhythm, his entourage following in disarray.
His Lordship beckoned Torrin to him.
“You will ensure that your friend does not express his opinions publicly again.”
“I will do that, Lord, I promise you.”
“I will shortly take private council with His Holiness.”
His Lordship was summoned soon after and Torrin found himself redundant for a while. His first thought was to find a warm spot and sleep but then he saw that Valhad had gone from the chamber. Had he really brought his young friend here in a bid to keep him out of trouble? Quietly cursing this miscalculation he left the hall. Another servant had seen Valhad pass and directed Torrin down a long winding passage ending in a doorway. He pulled the door open, looked out into the night, and felt at once the piercing cold. Cloaks were hung beside the door; he wrapped himself well and stepped outside.
The great moon Azex had risen and had combined with the myriad stars to light the world in a ghostly radiance. In the crisp snow that layered the path a single set of footprints led away. He followed, with soft crunching steps, between rows of rianna trees that stretched their naked limbs upwards into moonlight. A broad flight of steps led him to a high place, a viewpoint set upon a tower of rock. Valhad was there, gazing out toward the palace. Torrin saw its shape now for the first time; a cluster of triple sided pyramids upon a high rocky seat. Valhad cast a glance at Torrin and sighed.
“Is His Lordship angry with me?” he asked.
“I do not think you will be his first choice to accompany any future visits.”
“I was careful in my choice of words.”
“Silence might have been a better.”
“Silence, yes. That's why I came out here. What do the Vasagi teach, Torrin, of knowing right and wrong?”
“They teach that which you know well, Valhad, that within us there is a tiny gift from the Maker; a knowing what is right, and what is wrong. And that if we seek silence and listen for the quietest voice in our hearts it will tell us what should be.”
