Between the fashionable places and the bad parts of town, there is the so-called half-world; this half-world business is a romantic notion, but as a business it is also an instrument of torture, that guides our eyes away. I went into it avidly looking and found only one there, at the wine bars where the students met, and these were only the worst possible people, these students, but I met a convert in the wine bars, of all the whores in Lohach, she was the most sought-after, she was supposed to have a mysterious indefinable feminine appeal. When I first saw her I didn’t see any mystery. I knew she was the most sought-after because she was still ashamed. Her shame hadn’t faded, her clients wanted to be part of it, she could still be disgraced, you see. I saw that the first time I saw her drawn face. She had been beaten back behind her features. I sent Tamt to her with a “love-letter” of my own, I sent Tamt because I knew they couldn’t turn him away, she was never away from her clients and proprietors, but I sent Tamt to her and they all gave way in front of his errant face. Tamt brought her my notes and when the time came I let him show her. She and I never met, she never wrote back to me, but she received Tamt every time I sent him to her. When the time came I let him show her, and when he came back he told us—he had pointed to the mountain and she’d seen it, he’d seen the glint across all that distance and she’d seen it, when she saw it, Tamt said, she screamed. Tamt couldn’t describe her scream. Tamt told us she had screamed and then started laughing, he said she smiled and showed her long teeth. Tamt said she showed her long teeth! She smiled and showed her long teeth and laughed, he imitated her laugh for us, it seemed to racket up from his gut and begin and end in his throat, he expelled it out through a wide-open mouth so that it rasped in his throat. I didn’t get another opportunity to send Tamt to her. My spies told me what had happened. She had been delivered to a client in a coach, she was riding with a client in his closed coach, they were crossing the second flood bridge that night on the way to his house; she had all at once opened the door and leapt out of the coach, over the edge, down into the Werse, without a word. She had, in complete silence, and without fumbling, or any kind of haste, opened the coach door and jumped from the moving coach over the raised stone edge of the bridge, and dropped directly into the Werse. She had plunged straight into the Werse, she had plunged straight out of her dress in midair and down into the Werse. Her dress had been loosened in the coach and had slid upward off of her body as she dropped into the Werse, and it blew against a stone piling beneath the bridge and caught there, out of sight—my spies made particular note of this. The coach was stopped instantly, in the middle of the bridge, and her client and his people had looked out over the raised stone edge, down into the Werse, to the unmarked spot where she had vanished beneath the water. They watched until she surfaced again. They hadn’t thought to move to the downstream side, but when she surfaced again she wasn’t on the downstream side, she hadn’t moved downstream, she had moved upstream, she appeared somewhat upstream, she was leaning into the current and they said her arms disappeared into the water, she pulled herself forward against the current and the water was whipped into froth around her shoulders. They said that she cut through the water like a knife, swimming upstream, they said she swam upstream like a fish, one said she swam like a dolphin, without flagging or veering to the banks she swam directly in the center of the current, which was always extremely strong there, they were able to follow her from the bridge because she was so pale, and her white slip was still clinging to her, they saw her clearly against the dark water, the current was churned to white froth around her shoulders. They said she swam past the first flood bridge out of the city and disappeared.
At this time I first was inspired to build the lamp, this was my “little task,” I was instructed to build the lamp, although the lamp was of my own design, I first dreamed up the lamp of my own accord and was only then told to construct it; walking through Lohach as I was compelled to do, walking through the streets day and night as I was compelled to do, I would sometimes glimpse a little gleam in a windowpane—or shining in a polished brass doorknob—here and there I would sometimes glimpse a little gleam in a puddle, now and then a familiar little gleam. A reminder, Wite was there, Wite was present, I remember how my breath would catch in my throat, I would glimpse the little gleam in a windowpane or a polished brass doorknob and the corners of my eyes would swell as if I were on the verge of breaking out sobbing, a reminder, Wite was there, “I am here,” I would shake and my eyes would swell, recognizing a little gleam in a windowpane. I had already conceived of my lamp, I had designed it in my so-called mind, now it occurred to me, this I don’t remember in detail, it occurred to me how to build the lamp and for what purpose to build the lamp. I started working on the lamp at the water tower, with the intention of fixing the finished lamp to the top of the water tower, and this I clearly knew was an instruction from Wite, although I still cannot remember how I received this instruction, I know Wite sent word to me to build my lamp and fix it to the top of the water tower. I was told the lamp was a sign for the converts in Lohach, I wasn’t instructed in detail, I was only instructed that the lamp was to be fixed on top of the water tower when it was finished and that it would be a sign for the converts of Lohach.
These converts were no conversions, they were no different after meeting me than they were before, if anything they were more like themselves, they were more like themselves after I spoke to them than before, they were more concentrated and less vague after I spoke to them than before. When I told them about Wite, they didn’t change, they remained the same, or perhaps more so, but they did become more volatile. Wite’s story volatilized them all. When they had heard Wite’s story from me, and somehow knew it was true, I can’t say why or how they would know it was true, but when they somehow knew it was true, they suddenly would become volatile, and leave the city or come away in some other way—Illan came with us, while others chose to leave. Illan was rich, a young man, his parents were some hideous citizens, the typical sort of provincial tapeworms who run cities like Lohach, Illan had called them “provincial tapeworms,” his parents and all the so-called important people in Lohach. I remember we used to see Illan every day in the market, Illan wandering up and down in the market, alone and sometimes laughing, I remember seeing Illan laugh from time to time, sustained laughter at nothing, looking all around him, he would look all around him and laugh at nothing, and I remember his laugh struck me as the sound of a wounded animal. It was grotesque, and painful to see. Tamt and I took Illan to the water tower, and to the smithy, we told Illan about Wite, we took Illan in and looked after him; I wish I could remember half the things Illan said—he became our little spider, he turned into a perfect spy, Illan pretended to reconcile himself to his parents and pantomimed so-called good living with frightening ironic ferocity, he pretended to be a good son and he lived with his parents and punctiliously did everything they asked, and spied for us all the while, he would spend his days deceiving everyone and smiling to their faces, then come to us in the evening and vomit up his glad tidings, laughing all the time like a wounded animal. Illan was a little fleshy and pale with dark hair and shining eyes like a nocturnal animal, he was a resourceful mimic, I remember he had a sweet piping voice with which he would imitate for us perfectly and viciously the empty mercenary society ladies and mindless complacent clockwork citizens of his society nights. Illan spent his nights in society spying for me, he would creep through the city all night without sleeping, spying wherever he could and bringing us back little morsels of information, anecdotes to laugh at, we laughed out loud with him, he told us his anecdotes and stole for us, filled up our water tower with the things he’d stolen for Tamt and for me, and with gifts for “blunder”—a piece of iron, a bag of coal, “gifts for ‘blunder.’ ” What became of you, Illan? I was working on the lamp by that time, I would get the individual pieces from “blunder” and assemble them myself, and Illan would bring me the compounds I needed for the battery, he would steal them from thi
s place and that and bring them to me, a little at a time. I worked on the lamp, which I had designed, and wandered through the city from time to time, and now and then I found someone to tell. I never told anyone about Wite who didn’t need to hear. Illan was circulating throughout the city, he was our spider, our spy, it was from him I learned that Felix’s unmarried sister-in-law’s story was circulating in Lohach, that the Alak representatives were asking questions, bringing up my name in connection with the stranger in Felix’s unmarried sister-in-law’s story, I learned from Illan that I had been presumed dead, the Society and the Alaks had been good enough to presume I had perished in pursuit of Wite, but they were asking questions about me, and that suggested they were no longer certain, or that there were some who felt one way, that I was dead, and others who felt another way, that I was not dead. Mine was not the only body they failed to recover, though I was the only survivor, there had been no serious search for remains of the Prince’s party after the first snowfall that winter, I had assumed as much. I only learned from Illan that I had been presumed dead. I learned from Illan that Tzdze had been visited by the Alaks, that she had been questioned, Tzdze questioned by the Alaks! I pressed Illan, I made demands, I pressed him to find out more, he told me that Tzdze was still at the estate, that the Alak party had only dropped by, that they had already known, from one of the servants, that Wite was dead. As he loved to do, Illan went to great lengths to find out more, he told me that the Alaks were “bruiting about” the idea that I might still be alive, and the infernal Society had declared that should I still live, I could only be a soul-burner; it was easy for them, with the greatest possible ease they put my name on the list, their nauseating death list, from which list they struck Wite’s name years ago. If I lived, I was necessarily a soul-burner by now, by Wite’s example, so they said; the Society came unavoidably to the stupidest possible conclusions, they always insist on concluding a matter before they enter into it, they first come to their utterly worthless conclusions, without so much as a word to anyone, and then they go forth and find exactly what they expected and pat themselves on the back. They blithely placed my name on their nauseating death list even though I never became a soul-burner, not that I didn’t deserve to die I suppose, everyone does, but naturally only after an equally nauseating discussion around the table, deciding what to do about me, that if I was not dead, as they wanted me to be, they clearly wanted me dead, they would have preferred me to be dead, but if I was still living, they would see to the correction of that mistake, that regrettable oversight.
I learned from Illan that there was no serious effort to find me in Lohach. Illan and I, and Tamt, would sit on the main avenue with our peanuts soaked in coffee, and Illan would sit smothering his laughter and telling me secrets in broad daylight, we would sit and watch the Alak representative guard goose-stepping on the main avenue in the square before the adjutant’s house, their boots would fall in unison after a fully extended and slow ascent, Illan would speak to the regular rapping of their polished boots, in between the steps. We sat for hours and watched the guards goose-step for hours in front of the adjutant’s house, for hours, until they were relieved by the next uniform batch.
I worked on the lamp, I assembled the battery and began working on the timer, the lamp was a spark across two rods, the rods would burn away over time, the timing mechanism would push the rods together at the same rate at which they burnt, maintaining a consistent gap, a steady light, by means of clockwork. I stayed at the water tower, the timer was complicated and hard to build, I had to work at it all the time, I lost every moment to fitting the gears of the timer together absolutely precisely. I did not leave the water tower during this time, the gravediggers would leave us simple provender on the back steps or would come up to the water tower to see us; as I said before, we had a special affinity with gravediggers, there wasn’t a gravedigger in Lohach who didn’t come to visit us, who didn’t share some of his provender with us, who didn’t put himself at our disposal. I had only to speak to one gravedigger some time before, and soon there wasn’t a single gravedigger in Lohach who had not placed himself at our disposal, we could have called up an army of gravediggers—no armies, no societies, nothing of that sort. I wasn’t going to permit anything of that sort. No armies, no societies. We were no army and no society. From my deathbed, writing in this narrow cell filled with sickening air, I tell you we were no society and no army, and there is to be no society and no army. I didn’t want to know them—the prostitute, the woman in the cellar, Illan, “blunder,” Tamt—I wanted to let them go. I didn’t want to hold them. I didn’t want to hold Tzdze. I didn’t want to hold Wite. You’ll get none of their stories from me, this is my story, I won’t presume to speak for them, I won’t profane them by presuming to speak for them, if you want to know who they were from me, I will tell you who they were for me, that’s all anyone can say about anyone else or has any business saying. I wouldn’t have them fall into a society around me because I won’t speak for them, no one should speak for them, no one could, how can anyone speak for anyone? But the moment people congregate together in societies and cities, these half rat-warren half open-sewer cities, what do you have? Everyone speaks and no one speaks. Look, you hypocrite, how you hate cities and everyone in them, and meanwhile here come gravediggers and helpers of all kinds—fine, then, am I a hypocrite? Didn’t they come to me because they felt the same hatred, and wanted the same relief I wanted?
I don’t know, I was never told, if “blunder” had received instruction from Wite or had only been acting in Wite’s spirit, whether he meant it as a sign or as an invitation or had meant anything by it—“blunder” went in the middle of the night to the first market square in Lohach, I had seen him going and I followed him. I had nothing better to do, I had seen the look on his face. I followed him. “Blunder” went to the first market square carrying his hammer. “Blunder” had his hammer with him, over his shoulder, and was going in the middle of the night to the first market square. I watched him without letting on, he didn’t notice me, I had no way of knowing but I don’t believe he noticed me following him, I don’t believe he indulged himself with any thought for me or for us. I followed him and stood at the edge of the square, I stopped at the edge of the square when I saw him walking directly to the base of the first public cistern; this cistern was vastly larger than the water tower, it was the largest cistern in the city, it stood alone on three pilings towering over the square, I have no idea what it was for, I stopped at the edge of the square when I saw “blunder” walking directly across the square to the base of the first public cistern, to the stone foundation, each piling sunk into its own stone foundation. I can’t say, now, just what the cistern was for.
“Blunder” took a long wedge from his belt and stabbed the piling with it, driving it a little into the wood, the pilings were made of the hardest possible wood, from practically petrified wood, “blunder” stabbed the piling with his wedge at chest level, so that the wedge was parallel to the ground, and he began driving it into the piling with his hammer, striking it with regular blows that resounded and that came steadily at even intervals driving the wedge into the piling, he stood swinging his hammer and driving the wedge into the piling at about the level of his chest, his wedge was parallel to the ground, each blow drove it visibly deeper into the nearly petrified wood, visibly deeper, even to me at the edge of the square, “blunder” standing nearly exactly opposite to me across the square, I saw him drive the wedge into the piling with regular blows, and all at once without breaking his rhythm “blunder” changed direction and began striking down on the upper surface of the exposed end of the wedge at its exposed end I think I’ve said, driving it down, without breaking the rhythm he started driving the wedge down until cracks tore through the piling altogether, “blunder” knocked the wedge away and struck the piling directly, sideways blows. The piling broke, and slid off its stump, “blunder” turned and ran, his feet striking the ground with regular blows, his eyes fixed,
he didn’t see me, he ran past me up the street, the piling slid off its stump, leaving it sticking up truncated from its stone foundation, the piling swept above the ground as the whole structure twisted, the tower yawed to one side, the two moored legs of the tower, which were still supporting the cistern, were twisted. They groaned, and one snapped, with a sound like a cannon shot, the cistern veered over, the whole thing was shrieking where it had groaned before—this all happened at once, it veered over and the stone foundation of the final unbroken leg was uprooted, entire, the cistern crashed down into the buildings on the east side of the square, shattering them to their foundations sending debris flashing into space on all sides and water swept through the square, I was already running away, I could still manage to run, I stopped only to watch the water sweep through the square for a moment, the cistern shattered the buildings on the east face of the square, tore open the adjacent buildings behind them and flooded the entire square, sweeping the wreckage from the shattered buildings, and their contents, into the lower stories of the surviving buildings and flushing some of the contents of the surviving buildings out into the square; the water ebbed out into the streets almost immediately and disappeared into gutters and grates.
The Traitor Page 17
