Dark Age (5 page)

Eric was standing in the doorway, talking to an obese man sporting an oversized red beret with three feathers at its top. “Come here boy,” the carpenter waved me towards them, “Mr. Edelstein, this is Adam, my apprentice,” he said. “Adam, this is Jean Edelstein,” he said. “Please take measurements for the good man, so we can get him a gorgeous new drawer within a few weeks.”

The merchant looked me up and down with a distrusting glare, but then just nodded. They shook hands and the merchant walked off. “Tag along,” was all he said to me.

Eric grabbed my arm and pulled my head close, whispering in my ear, “Do your job. And do it right.” He pushed me away and raised his voice as the merchant grew suspicious, “And if I see you with my daughter one more time after dark, I will cut more than just your pay!”

I followed the merchant without a word. With pompous steps he passed the simple wooden houses of the Works, evading the looks of the commoners. After a few minutes we reached the gate to the Merchant District. The structure was more than ten feet deep and built of fortified stone, an immense measure to keep the poor from interfering with their day to day life. The metal grate to close the gate had always been rolled up, but two guards protected the entrance at every time of day. Being Grey Guard veterans, they wore their old armors with added insignias to specify their position. As protectors of the Merchant District their armors were polished and decorated with yellow capes and pointy helmets. Upon my sight, the two bulky guards tensed and crossed their halberds mere inches from Mr. Edelstein’s face.

“Sir,” one of the guards said, “this boy is following you. Do you know him?”

“Of course I know him, you smelly industrial scum,” the merchant hissed exasperated and spit at the guard’s feet. “I am paying him, just like I am paying you. If he was following me, and you are concerned, you punch him in the gut and hold him down. But don’t you ever cross your halberds before my face again. Now keep your mouth shut unless you are talked to and do your job, or I’ll have you hung.” Without a comment they removed the halberds and stood straight like statues as if nothing had happened.

The moment we entered through the gate, the vicinity turned into a whole different world. Clean air filled my lungs and beautiful sights were all around. The long elevated boulevard lay ahead, leading all the way to the mansion. Reddish stones paved a gorgeous even street, which could not be compared to the improvised paths in the Works.

To the right of the terracotta boulevard rose the district wall as high as a house, removing the sober reality of the average life from one’s eyes. To the left of the boulevard, rows of two story houses were aligned, tended with a lot of time, care, and money. All the balconies were decorated with colorful flowers that outshined their neighbors’. Everything and everyone in this district looked clean, affluent and healthy, and yet some of the merchants were of the driest and most sullen spirit.

Mr. Edelstein turned left towards a yellow villa with a green balcony and door. He grabbed a ring from his belt which carried half a dozen keys. They all appeared identical but as he entered the key into the lock I noticed a bit of green paint on its handle.

“Come on in,” he said opening the door, and put the key ring back on his belt.

Walking in, I tripped over the carpet and bumped into him, “I’m so sorry,” I exclaimed, “We just don’t have those back in the Works.”

“Almost knocked me off my legs you useless son of a –” he raised his hand at me.

“I’m sorry!” I backed up.

“You’ll be eaten alive within a month of your service, you weakling,” he lowered his hand and fixed his vest. “Now let’s get to work. I would like the drawer over here,” he said pointing to an empty space, “But I want you to note that the look has to match the ambiance. I was looking for something with smooth curves and a rather shiny dark colored type of wood. Something classy, but young. Antique, but modern in its own way. Do you understand what I mean?” He asked a little exasperated thinking that I did not pay attention.

I put my palm on his back for reassurance, “I understand exactly what you mean. This would take approximately four weeks.”

“Two weeks,” the merchant said.

“Two weeks, twice the cost.”

“Excuse me?” the merchant muttered, “take those measurements and get out before I send you back to your Master without a tongue. I’m sure he would not want me to raise the rent on him.”

“Two weeks it is, sir,” I abided and went right to work.

The man sighed and hung his hat by the door, “I am taking my afternoon nap, get out as soon as you are done.” Slowly he worked his way up the stairs to his chambers, leaning on the handrail with every step.

Carefully I unfolded my measurement stick and checked out the room. Just décor in the living room was worth more than what my family and Eric owned combined. Golden carpets, paintings, vases, sculptures… he had it all. I got on my knees and measured the empty space in depth and width. Even the floor was carefully crafted, and despite its beautiful tiles, was covered by rugs. As I got up from the floor to measure the height, my eyes caught sight of a glass cabinet containing a collection of three dozen golden and silver chalices. Each of them must have been worth a month’s labor. I never understood how an object that does not aid survival in any way could be worth so much. With the numbers chalked down, I folded up my stick and hurried out.

The sun was starting to sink. In the carpentry we sat around the fireplace chewing on a few dried berries while I told Eric about Edelstein’s request.

“Enough business for today,” he said, leaning back in his armchair. “What’s really been on your mind?” he asked. There was clarity in his eyes. I knew I could trust him.

“I have been thinking,” I said leaning forward, “whether we could end this all.”

“There he goes again,” Katrina said. “He won’t let it go.”

“It’s alright Adam, what do you mean?” Eric insisted with a calm tone.

“You are encouraging him?” Katrina was turning red.

“I want to find a way to end the Inquisition… even if it means killing him.”

“That’s suicide!” she insisted. “With all those guards you won’t come near him.”

“But say he does,” Eric wondered. “I have always been curious what would happen. Would the Council elect a new leader? Would the Guard take over? Would we choose a leader amongst us, or finally disperse beyond the valley?”

“I am not staying for this,” she gave me a kiss on the forehead and disappeared into her room.

“Every option sounds better than this,” I said.

“Think about it carefully. Do not act rash, your life is too precious for it. Talk me through it if you ever do feel compelled to follow through. I will have your back, but I want to make sure that it is what you really want.” Eric said in a warm tone.

“Why do you support my insanity?”

“Because I know you wouldn’t do it unless you thought it would be the best for her,” he said earnestly. “That’s something we have in common. And if she knew the truth about her mother, she would feel the same.”

“What happened? I thought Elena died giving birth.”

Eric was quiet, staring into the fire. “Shortly after Katrina’s birth, she grew sick,” he said. “She had an acute fever one night, and I wanted to get help,” his eyes fixated on the flames. “I ran out into the streets to wake the medic, but the night patrol grabbed me and beat me to the ground for violating curfew.” He got up from his armchair, “By the time I returned she was dead. Katrina was all I had left.”

“I didn’t know.”

He nodded in silence.

“I better get home.” I said, seeing that he needed rest. Quickly I grabbed my belongings.

“It’s already ten,” he noted, walking me to the door. “Oh, and Adam did you get what I…”

“Yes, I did my job, and I did it right,” I winked and handed him the imprint of the key to Mr. Edelstein’s villa.

Chapter 5

T
he
daily routine
had kicked in again. Between studies and regular work, I was planning a break-in to take some of Mr. Edelstein’s chalices. We regularly stole from the merchants and secretly sold it off, using the profits to feed the poorest of the poor, who were getting starved to death by the system. It was our way of reinstating justice, when no one else would.

But at the same time I was breaking my head over a much bigger task: Overthrowing the Inquisition.

Two weeks had passed since my Celebration, when the routine was finally broken. I lay in bed with open eyes, staring at the dark wood above me. Fine rays of light crossed over the ceiling as the sun hit the blinds. It was one of those moments I tried to hold on to: Resting in the safety and peacefulness of my room.

Suddenly there was a knock on my door, “Adam,” my mother said, opening it just a crack, “there’s someone here to see you.” Her voice sounded distressed.

“Who is it?”

“The Inquisitor’s chief servant,” she said in a whisper.

I panicked and threw on clothes as quickly as I could. It was a good sign that the Inquisition didn’t simply come in the night and take me away. But I wasn’t going to antagonize anyone by making them wait for me.

Anthony was waiting in our small kitchen, while my mother uncomfortably tried to hold a conversation. He had adapted a true noble posture for an industrial boy, I thought. His black tunic was in sync with his dark pants and black leather boots. His hair was combed to the back.

“May I offer you a beverage?” she asked.

He smiled and shook his head. Courteously he turned his attention towards me, “Adam, it has been a while. Her ladyship requests your presence.” He kept a clear expression, but I could sense he was amused by the situation.

My mother looked at me in disbelieve, “What’s going on, Adam?”

I shrugged. “I think I’m going to class in the Inquisitor’s Mansion. History.”

“We must go now,” Anthony said, stepping out the door. “Her ladyship’s prayer starts before mass.” He turned towards my mother for a brief moment, “Thank you Mrs. Blacksmith for your kind hospitality, I promise his safe return back to you.” Quickly he shut the door behind us and walked off.

Without much of an argument I followed him onto the square. The cold morning air cleared my eyes and wakened my face. At this time of day the merchants were already out preparing their stalls. Everything had to be ready once the other districts left morning mass. One of the merchants carried a large container while one of his servants pushed a cart toward his stall. Another decorated the display of a tool collection to make it look more appealing. More merchants passed us, traveling down the terracotta boulevard of the Merchant District. The carts seemed emptier than usual, and their faces more grave.

The door to the mansion looked much less intimidating now, without the flickering torches to its sides. After we walked down the red corridor we took so many turns until I forgot where I was. The mansion was nothing but a maze, with hundreds of doors, stairs, and corridors. Some rooms were even designed identically making orientation yet so much harder. It wasn’t long before I lost all sense of where I was.

At last we reached a study whose doors were left ajar. One long empty desk stood in the middle of the room opposite to a chalkboard filled with notes and scribbles. No one was there and yet the room was filled with so much authority and untouchable wisdom.

“Please, take a seat. Her Ladyship will be with you soon,” Anthony said. “I will be getting back to my duties. Take care my friend.”

Friend. There was an odd tone in his voice when he said it. He must not have gotten to know many people since he started working and living in the mansion.

Instead of taking a seat, I started exploring the room. Antiques, statues and inventions filled the study’s walls. Objects with wings, constellations of the stars, and various maps lay across a drawer to the left of the large desk. Next to the chalkboard on the wide windowsill stood a yard high marble statue of a man sitting on a throne with his head rested in the palm of his hand. Silently I read the lines that were located at the base of the statue: “
I know one thing, that I know
nothing
”.

“Socrates,” Cecilia said, entering the room. “He could have fled from his death but chose poison over ignorance; One of the few men that adhered to his own teachings.”

Upon her presence I bowed down.

Giggling, she waved me to get up, “Please stop that, you are embarrassing me.”

The priest followed behind Cecilia. To my surprise it was Father Riordan himself. While the rest of the city got ready for his sermon, the very same man held a private session with us.

He nodded graciously in my direction. “I was surprised to learn of your excellent literacy, Adam.” He said. “I must admit to my anxiousness to discover if the stories my young mistress tells me is true.”

“I think the stories may have been exaggerated,” I said. “But I’m grateful for the opportunity to learn more. I have listened to all your sermons in the district.”

“I am sure you have,” the priest said. “Take a seat and bow your heads.”

It was just Cecilia, the priest, and me. The experience was entirely different. We were not sitting on the rock-hard benches but comfortable armchairs, and the pressing silence and impersonal rhetoric of the big church was gone.

While the priest cited a long prayer in Latin, I could not help but peer over at Cecilia every other moment. Everything about being in the mansion seemed so surreal that I constantly needed to make sure I was not dreaming. Looking over, her eyes caught mine. For a moment we just observed another, until she smiled and looked down again.

A book smashed loudly onto the table in front of me. “Eyes down and pay attention,” the priest said. I heard a subdued giggle next to me but kept my head bowed.

The hour went by and the priest left the room. Anthony came in offering us something to drink while we waited for her literature teacher. My eyes drifted around the room observing the many things that were kept in the study.

“Is that a telescope?” I asked.

“Yes, but don’t look into it now, or you will go blind,” she said. “Come by at night sometime and I can teach you about the stars.”

I ignored her subliminal arrogance and agreed to meet her one night when I was off work. The Inquisitor had to be busy that night, so Anthony could let me in unnoticed. It would be a good time with a friend, but an even greater time to kill a monster.

Through the door came a rather old man with long hair that was fading grey. His beard was just as long and wild as his hair and yet overall the man maintained certain composure. He put a stack of books onto the desk from underneath his arm and placed his spectacles on his nose. “Greetings,” he said briskly while flipping through some papers. “There you are,” he pulled out a sheet which he scanned with his eyes. “Today we will start reading
The Tragedy of Julius Caesar
by William Shakespeare.” He handed out two slim booklets and noted, “How wonderful that you are joining us today Adam. We will be splitting roles then. You are Brutus.”

For the rest of the morning we read literature, discussed various philosophies, and analyzed social hierarchies. I was captivated by the vast amount of knowledge Cecilia’s teachers had. Being exposed to these ideas and concepts opened my mind, and now I craved more.

After class, Cecilia walked me to the door.

“Today was incredible,” I said, taking note of every turn I took.

“It is a lot less engaging when you sit there by yourself,” she commented.

“Is that an invitation?”

“Maybe,” she teased. “If I feel like seeing you again, I’ll just send Anthony to get you out of bed.”

“So you can request me whenever you want, how do I reach you?” I asked.

“You don’t.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” she said, “Unless you are a princess.”

As we walked down the red corridor, her steps slowed.

“Want to walk with me a bit?” I asked. “Don’t worry you can leave before we get to the Works, I don’t want you to have a heart attack.”

“Not today,” she said, shying away from the door. “I’ve never really been out there.”

I was no longer surprised to hear her say that. Gently I took her by the wrist, “Come, Let me show you a few things around the city.”

“No,” she said sharply, before catching herself and forcing a smile. “No, that wouldn’t be a good idea. Goodbye, Adam.”

“As you say, milady,” I curtsied. “I hope to join you again.” I looked at her for a moment and walked out the door. I was beginning to feel the layout of the Mansion. With a few more visits I would be able to find my way through the maze on my own.

Back at the carpentry Katrina waited outside the house with her arms crossed. The moment I was within arm’s reach, she slapped me across the face. “You have never missed a morning mass without telling me! I thought something had happened!” she said. “But I see you prefer spending your time with the Inquisitor’s ward.”

I wasn’t interested in arguing, “I am sorry.”

She turned away sharply and walked to a basket sitting on the table. “My father wants us to get materials and then stop by Robert’s house.” She handed it to me and said, “It’s a present; he had a son born today.”

We left the carpentry and headed north. Soon, the Craftsmen houses turned into the dilapidated barracks inhabited by the industrials. A foul smell of unwashed bodies and dirt lay in the air, almost strong enough to be tasted. The shouting, tools, and moving feet, created a cloud of noise in this part of town that only ceased hours after the sun set.

In front of us loomed the lumber mill, seemingly on the verge of collapse. Windows were broken and the walls were crumbling, yet it had stood for years. Katrina banged on the door loud enough to be heard through the deafening noises from within. A bald man, old yet strong, stepped out of the door and greeted us. With little words he led us inside. Many of his sons and even daughters prepared the wood in an assembly line. One son, judging from his age had already returned from the Guard, held a big saw in his hand with which he cut whole tree branches into various lengths. Another, just my age with brown curly hair carried them to the storage room. The girls on the other hand sat hunched over at a table. Two were removing the bark from fresh wood while the others rasped the swarf off the cut wood. They stopped for a second as we entered and observed us. Somewhat ashamed they looked down avoiding eye contact.

“Well ya need somethin dark ya said. I only got walnut here for ya but that stuff ain’t easy to work with lemme tell ya. And it ain’t cheap either. Only got a little left for ya,” the man said. “But I can sell ya some white oak. It’s much cheaper and ya can paint it. It’s even easier to work with, and I swear the guy ain’t gonna notice.”

“Thank you for the suggestion,” Katrina said, “We will take the oak then, how much would that be?”

“Ah, lemme think. Let’s say 50, ya can pick it up tomorrow” the man responded.

“Let’s make it 75,” Katrina said. “Get those girls a nice dinner tonight.”

The man was baffled and uncertain what to say. The sudden smile that crept onto his face was a good enough response for us. In the Merchant District we were the uneducated malnourished worker children. But here we were nobility. Everything was relative.

They wished us farewell and we departed for Robert’s home, deep in the industrial district. Passing the flour mill, the miller greeted us friendly; even him we had to help get through the winter last year.

The air around the smelter was hot, thick and full of smoke. Robert and his wife stood in the doorway with the baby in her arms. Robert was rather intimidating by nature. His large muscular body could scare anyone off, which allowed him to make some extra money as a Merchant District night guard. He was the one that let us in and out during our heists for a share of the profit. Seeing us now, his whole complexion lit up, turning the intimidating warrior into a welcoming friend.

“He is beautiful,” Katrina said with gleaming eyes upon seeing the newborn. “What is his name?”