Unis insides contracted into a tiny lump. Just the day before, his job at the archive had seemed eternal and unchanging. He had hated the work, and had begged fate to release him from a swamp where he felt he was going nowhere. Now, however, his rock-solid world was about to fall apart in the most shameful and dramatic manner, burying under its ruins his wonderful dreams of a shining future and a splendid career. Suddenly, he wanted to hide somewhere that life and its tribulations would not be able to find him. At the same time, he wanted to throw back his head and cry out to the Sun: why are you punishing me so harshly?
Forgive me, Enel Margio. I dont know what to say. I didnt plan it this way. It was a coincidence. I had a request from one of the Emperors advisors, and it needed to be handled quickly. I had to do it. I just had to come in late, you see! They wanted it back today! Uni felt a hard lump in his throat. If this interview went on much longer, he would break down and weep, further obliterating his already pathetic reputation.
What? What are you talking about? What advisor? Enel Margo suddenly lost his dignified bearing and jumped out of his seat. Arms out and mouth agape, he looked like a large cat that had been playing with a mouse when it was suddenly bitten by a snake.
Manelius Ronko asked me to prepare a very important document, Uni whispered, vaguely aware that he, perhaps, should not have shared that information. However, there was no other way out. He was in a corner, hemmed in by his own stupidity.
Manelius Ronko, Margio repeated. He stroked his chin and took a few steps away from his desk, Now, he looked like a buzzard or a vulture with its feathers ruffled. The vision was both frightening and disgusting. What kind of document were you supposed to prepare? the vulture asked, turning sharply toward its prey.
A report on Virilan. I did write it. Nothing could stop me, Uni squeaked. He had one last, thin hope of outplaying fate. What I mean to say is, I did it all because I had to.
Im the one who decides what you have to do, is that clear? Margio cut him off. Do you have any proof?
Uni walked back to his desk on wooden legs. He barely knew what his body was doing. He felt like his mind was in a dark cloud and his body was moved by the commands of others.
This is the end, flashed through his head when his text written during a night of drinking landed in his superiors hands.
His presentiment did not deceive him. During the minutes he was gone, Margio had been in no less of a heightened emotional state than Uni. He grabbed the scroll and opened it with a gesture that reminded Uni of how an ancient warrior, surrounded by enemies, would have slit his own throat. His eyes ran over the contents. Then he slowly rolled it up and sat back down in his chair. There was cold laughter in his eyes.
Margio leaned back in his chair. My boy, were you not aware that all such tasks must be approved by the director of the archive? You werent? He paused for effect. Of course not. You spend more time reading ancient books than you do studying the rules of the institution where you work. Or, more precisely, where you worked, Margios smile took on a snakelike quality. He leaned forward and raised his voice. You had absolutely no right at all to take this job on over my head! He was yelling by the time he finished. I do not care who he is or what his title is. All reports and all materials leave this archive only by my consent! Margio tossed the scroll on his desk and sharply elbowed the bronze gong hanging next to it. A secretary appeared. As of today, he no longer works here, Margio told the man, pointing at Uni in disgust. Walk him all the way to the exit. Do not let him back in the building. Ever. He let his eyes drift back to Uni, who was paralyzed. Get out of here!
* * *
Despite its sprawling size, Enteveria was blessed with a uniquely harmonious architecture. After Norius the Founder declared the establishment of the great Herandian Empire, the old capital was torn down and rebuilt according to a precise, geometric plan. The project was grandiose and required decades of hard work by hundreds of thousands of people, but the effort paid off in the end in the eyes of their grateful descendants.
The old city had been a jumble of stone and wooden houses built up around a fortress that stood on an island in the Fela River, where the kings palace and the homes of the most important nobles stood. The lords of the new empire gave their subjects a giant metropolis divided into neat, rectangular blocks and zones. The zones were defined by purpose: there was a palace zone, as well as cathedral, residential, craft, trading and amusement zones. No longer a fortress, the Emperors palace comprised an entire block of grandiose buildings. The variety of construction materials and the oddly pleasing blend of architectural styles served as an encyclopedia in stone of all the provinces of the vast empire.
When the city was rebuilt, the planners added two new aqueducts and a great cloaca to collect the citys sewage. Enteveria was full of green gardens and parks, and its residents enjoyed listening to the music of dozens of fountains large and small that played haunting melodies by means of clever hydraulic organs. The capital had the unheard-of luxury of setting aside one-third of its total area for parks and other amusements, instead of housing and manufacturing. It was a giant organism that sucked people in with promises of a carefree life or at least the sense that one was part of the most carefree city in Dashtornis.
Enteveria had two river ports, and its deep, fast-flowing rivers linked it to two different seas. Beamy merchant ships could ride the Fela all the way up to the Sea of Dragons and on, to the barbarian Wasteland and Torgendam in the north. The Fela was a majestic river, and the people of the empire made use of its many tributaries to reach most of the empires northern and western provinces.
To the south, the Emperor Lecius had ordered the digging of the Shining Sun Canal, which got its name from the bright flecks of light reflected by its choppy waters. The canals waves were not generated by bad weather, but by the host of merchant ships carrying cargo from the Southern Seas. The northern river and its tributaries were, for the most part, the empires own inland waterways while the southern routes opened up opportunities for foreign trade. It was the south that brought the empire new goods, new people, new knowledgeand new threats. The religious fanatics of Mustobrim were constantly testing the resolve of the Capotian merchants, who were widely acknowledged to be the best in the business. And it was only the Misty Sea, with its shallow, warm waters and thousands of islands, scattered like pearls, that stood between the empire and the bloodthirsty Arincils, who had made a cult of murder, violence and cruelty. Further to the south was Unguru, a mysterious country of sorcerers who spoke with spirits from the netherworld and could enslave the dead.
In the midst of its bright, attractive, but sometimes horribly dangerous surroundings, the capital of Herandia was the focal point of a centuries-long tradition and order, which was the empires chief merit in the eyes of its forty million subjects. A city without walls, Enteveria represented peace and plenty, which was the motto of the Herandian ruling house.
Even a foreigner would have had a difficult time getting lost in its streets, which ran straight as an arrow, meeting at right angles in the wide city squares. However, Uni Virando managed to go astray after an hour of wandering aimlessly up and down the streets of smooth Vuravian stone. When he looked up, he had no idea where he was. He did not particularly care. What did it matter if he was lost? He had every reason to believe that his life was effectively over.
What do I have left? Uni wondered with a strange sense of detachment. No job, no position, no personal life, no money, nothing. Just this mortal body with a pile of superfluous knowledge stored in its head and a five-year-olds knowledge of the world. No one would even notice if I jumped off this bridge. Who needs me, anyway? With the Sun as my witness, only my mother. What can I tell her? That her only son whom she loved more than anything, whom she raised alone, saving up money for him to attend the academy, her last hope for a decent life in her old age suddenly threw away everything he had spent years working for? I cant even imagine telling her that. Id rather jump off this bridge. Shes better off with no son at all than a ridiculous, worthless son like me.
What about my friends? What will they say? Little Uni messed up again. Sorgius will be sarcastic, and Vordius will slap my shoulder and look at me with those big, sad eyes of his, like hes looking at a child that cant learn its lessons. No, Id rather jump off this bridge than see that! Fate gave me such wonderful opportunities, and I stupidly let them go. If Im such a fool that I cant even manage to make a life for myself, then Id better end it now. I just need to be brave. And calm. Great Sun, my heart is racing! Breathe in deep, and leap over the railing
Hello, Uni! the voice that came from the carriage that had just pulled alongside on the bridge was soft, but it seemed to hold the would-be jumper with chains of iron. A well-groomed hand pulled aside the silk curtain with an elegant gesture, and Manelius Ronko gazed at Uni with his usual ironic half-smile. Were you planning to cool off in the river?
For a brief instant, the young man felt like he had just eaten a raw octopus and its tentacles were stuck in his throat and stomach. Somewhere deep down, he realized that the Heavenly Deity didnt want him dead. No, the Deity was so enraged with Uni that it had prepared endless agony for him, each torment worse than the one before it, lasting until the end of the age when the Heavenly Deity would again, as it had many times before, turn every living thing to smoldering ash and build a new world and new people cleaner, better, more promising from that ash.
From the look of you, it would be impolite to ask about the fate of my report, Ronko said, shaking his head slowly. He waved toward his carriage. Get in. Watch your head. In the name of the Shining Deity, theres no reason to be so upset. You need a cup of wine. I have a nice little collection back at my house.
Feeling absolutely wooden and alien, Uni squeezed his body into the carriage. Enel Ronko, he finally found his voice. I am extremely glad to see you. Your document is ready, but I am not able to hand it to you at present. You can probably retrieve it from Margio, the archive director. I dont work there anymore, so Im afraid I cant do anything to help you. I should have told you as soon as I found out. I did try, but I dont know where you live. I was given an address, but there was nobody there. I am ashamed to say it, but I didnt know what to do. There is no excuse for my cowardly behavior.
Ronko tapped a finger against his chin as he listened. His eyes, which were the color of wet leaves, stared off into space, as if their owner was off in a world of his own.
Then he snapped his fingers. Take us home. The carriage started. Ronko turned to Uni and smiled brightly. Youre right about one thing. I like to be the one who finds people. I dont like it when they try to find me without my permission. Its too bad about your report. We wont ever see it again; I can guarantee you that.
What? Uni jumped. The octopus in his gut was moving again. Even the crown of his head went cold. How could he refuse to give it to you? I cant imagine
Ronko laughed. Of course not. He wont send me to the demons. He isnt brave enough. But heres the thing: Margio works for Licisium Dorgoe. Hes probably on his way to the mans villa as we speak to show your report to his protector. Its a rare prize. He gave a wry smile. Even a rat like Margio can come in useful once in a hundred years!
This is all my fault, Enel Ronko. If only I hadnt been so stupid!
What ever do you mean? In any event, it doesnt matter now. I contacted you directly because I know you and I naively assumed that you could get the job done without your superiors finding out. No matter what happened, its not your fault. It was poor calculation on my part. But as I said, it doesnt matter now.
* * *
Fergius Margios carriage performed feats of acrobatics as it glided down the Avenue of the Benevolent Sun, weaving in and out between the slow palanquins carrying idle aristocrats. The drivers skill did nothing to improve the mental state of the passenger, who clutched a leather manuscript case to his chest as if he feared he would drop it during the obstacle course. Margio only recovered his composure somewhat when his carriage left the narrow city streets behind and its wheels rolled along the neatly laid, colorful tiles of the wealthy neighborhood of Trikazinso. Finally, the carriage turned onto a narrow lane leading to a white villa hidden in the shade of large sycamore trees.
Since its establishment almost three hundred years earlier, the Trikazinso neighborhood had been a city within a city where people of a certain class lived their own life. After the founding of the empire, the great Emperor Norius had considered forcing the nobles of the lands he conquered to move to the new capital. No one knows what shrewd plans he had in store, but the task turned out to be more complicated than he had expected. Most of the nobles concerned had little desire to leave their homes, where they enjoyed an exalted position within their clans and communities. The once-independent nobles also had extremely stringent requirements concerning their own comfort, especially when compared to the lifestyle in Herandia, which had been a small and relatively unimportant country until recently. As a result, it was not until the reign of Nazalio, the great urban planner, that the Trikazinso neighborhood opened its doors to receive new residents. By that time, the former monarchs of Herandias acquisitions had sunk to the level of provincial aristocrats and were eager to move to the capital so they could be closer to the Emperor and his court. In these new circumstances, the resettlement went well. In later years, it was commemorated with the annual Festival of Flying Lights, when dozens of silk balloons emblazoned with the coats of arms of the leading families, rose into the sky on streams of hot air, hailing the arrival of a new class of leaders in the city.
The neighborhood had grown over the past three hundred years as civil servants, priests of the Cult of the Sun, military commanders, and wealthy merchants and craftsmen moved in. But Trikazinso remained a lush island, hidden from prying eyes by thick, green parks with decorative ponds, gardens, a canal, and grottos for silent contemplation. It was an unwritten rule that there were no walls or fences between the villas, and any resident of the neighborhood could walk anywhere within its confines. The idea was that this would create bonds between people from different parts of the empire (and even between political opponents). Interestingly, this freedom was not extended to the other 700,000 residents of Enteveria: a special division of the Solar Sentinels protected the select few from all curiosity on the part of outsiders.
A taciturn guard led Margio along a colonnade lined with statues representing the twelve sins and twelve virtues, facing each other in two lines. At the end of the colonnade, the director of the imperial archive found himself in a large, pentagonal garden with a small tea house standing on a knoll at its very center. The tea house had five sides like the garden around it, and a pentagonal gable roof topped with a forest nymph skillfully carved of ivory. With a speed that belied his five decades, Margio hustled across the grass and into the tea house.