Slow Turns The World (17 page)

They walked on to the next statue, another handsome man, but hunched and corrupted with a hungry, predatory look.

“This is Regis who fell from favour with God and was punished with the Curse of Regis.  God corrupted his lust so that he could no longer lay with woman but craved the flesh of his own sex.  Since that time God has used the Curse of Regis to punish many that offend him.”

“What you speak of is known to the Vasagi,” said Torrin, “but we have never called it a curse.  It is just the way that some are made, and we do not punish them for it.”

“Then how badly the Vasagi need the guidance of the true church.  To teach them of their sins and punish those that break God's commandments.”

“And what punishment do you make in God's name for those afflicted with this 'curse'?”

“That which is proscribed in the Text,” His Lordship shuddered slightly, “I do not like to even speak of it, read the Text and you shall see.”

They passed more statues of characters from the Text and His Lordship told tales of cities struck down in liquid fire, of plagues of blindness, of boils, warts and biting insects. Then they came to the first that were dressed in priest's robes.

“Comulus, scribe of the Text and founder of the church.  Poisoned by Gratage, his successor, who was punished by God with a wasting disease.   Then Sardel, who edited the Text for his own purposes and was executed, most unpleasantly, by Hyut, who restored the Text to the truth of God, with only minor amendments.  He died a natural death, probably.   Brytal had a long and prosperous reign as the first priest Emperor.  He conquered the kingdom of Etor and founded the first city here.  Sadly, he became obsessed with the Curse of Regis, suspecting and accusing many around him and condemning them to the punishment of the Text.”

They continued upwards passing a bare pedestal where only a pair of feet and half of one ankle remained.  The statue had been broken away with angry hammer blows, the engraved name chiselled crudely into an unreadable scar on the fine marble.

“Who was that?” asked Torrin.

“One who fell from grace with the Synod,” said His Lordship.

“Who was he, what did he do?”

“It is not recorded, his name has been erased from history; a cautionary lesson to those who follow.”

They trudged on up the long ascent passing a score of statues.  It seemed many had died violent deaths at the hands of their own church, or those of the enraged mob, maddened by their cruel despotism.   Etoradom was a turbulent and dangerous place, whose history reeked with treachery, oppression and rebellion. As they neared the final stairway Torrin asked a question.

“Lord, where has your God gone?”

“What do mean, Vasagi?  He is here always, He hears our voices, watches our deeds, knows the hidden truth within our hearts.”

“But we have walked up these stairs, Lord, through the passing time of your land and people.  And at first he is there always, speaking from heaven, making the ground tremble with his words, reaching down to smite away the cities of those who displease him.  And then we come to the Text and the founding of the church and then suddenly he is gone and the story is not his story but is that of those who preach and rule in his name.”

“Yes, because He appointed the church to serve Him.  We enforce His will.”

“Not then, Lord, because the Texts are just stories, written long ago, with God made to fit man's image?   For why should God set his own children upon each other, and love one son more than another?  This is not the way of a father.”

His Lordship stopped on the staircase and spoke quietly to Torrin.

“Vasagi, be warned, blasphemy is punished most severely here.  You will not talk of this again.  And this you should also know before we enter the chamber; the Synod rules here by grace of the Emperor.  You will not speak the name of any that serve upon the Synod, or reveal their station to others.  This is the way of the church; a priest may know who commands him directly, but beyond that all knowledge is forbidden.   The name of Vagis, or of Saloxe, is not known or spoken in the streets beneath and you shall tell none your master’s name, nor his station, nor his duties.  Is this well understood?”

“Aye, Lord.”

They came at last to the final step and a door flanked by armed guards stood before them.  One bowed in salute to His Lordship, gave Torrin a suspicious and contemptuous look, then admitted them to the Synod Chamber.  It was quite unlike the dim lobby they had first entered, for it was high and filled with light.  The three walls soared upwards to the vague, spider’s web of beams that made a distant lofty ceiling.   Each wall had the many rows of tall, arched windows, one above another, rising to the full height of the chamber.  Rays of light streamed in from the sunward side and were reflected on angled mirrors set upon the opposite walls, shining downwards in an illuminating flood.  A captive sunbeam was contrived to shine on those below like a warm glow of endorsement and approval from God himself.

The Synod table was three sided and facing each edge was a row of seven thrones.  Pillars rose from the corner of every throne, holding aloft intricately carved stone canopies that made jagged crowns.  There was no softness or comfort in the chairs beneath, only cold stone slabs to make a seat.   Somehow, impossibly, it seemed the table and the thrones around it had been chipped and shaped from a single a block of stone.  The precise, ornate, carvings and flutings became cruder towards the floor, until they melded into the contours of a single, massive, roughly hewn slab.  

Through the lowest tier of window arches the world beneath could be glimpsed.  The city, extending like one half of a huge wheel, seemed to lay naked, held in the gaze of these eyes that never blinked.   Even the world beyond, the distant mountains that disturbed the far horizon, the glittering river snaking away into obscurity, even these seemed strangely subservient.  The Synod Chamber, set so high above the world, the great thrones carved from the one indivisible monolith, the flood of stolen sunlight, all these combined to make an indisputable proclamation: We are chosen. We are permanent.  We are placed above you.  This is, and ever shall be, the order of things.  

All this impressed itself upon Torrin in a few short moments, as he followed His Lordship across the chamber, towards the Synod.  A little gesture of his master’s finger halted him, and he stood some paces back as His Lordship approached one corner of the table.  Torrin focussed now on the figures that were seated upon the thrones.  Most were old men with sour, wrinkled faces.  Some were finely robed, others were dressed in dark modest vestments in accordance with the sect or order to which they belonged.  Set alone, and facing one corner of the table was the only seat unoccupied, a throne much larger and more ornate than the others.   Seated on the right hand of the empty throne was a man younger than the rest.  The only papers and documents set upon the Synod table lay before him, and as the others spoke his quill dipped into an inkpot, then scratched its pattern of words upon a parchment.   One of the Synod was speaking, an angry voice echoing in the high vaulted chamber.

“...more vigilance is required, we cannot afford to give any indication that our resolve is not absolute.”

The younger man paused his writing, raised a hand slightly, and the speaker was at once silent.  Another little gesture, a nod towards another face which invited a new speaker to have his say.

“We should make the punishments public…”

The younger man gestured the speaker to silence and then spoke himself.

“And then we will have more anger and more rebellion to deal with.  The heretics and rabble rousers must be dealt with swiftly and punished as the Text indicates, but in the Cloisters only.”  

There were dark looks from those around him, an unspoken resentment that this man, barely half their age, should hold such authority over them.  

“Eminencies,” he continued, “it is in troubled times that our Emperor most needs faithful and devout servants.  And here before us is such a one.  Holy Eminence Lord Vagis, Emissary of the Emperor High Priest, Canon of the Sacred Order of the Lord's Servants, we welcome you in God’s name.”

 His Lordship gave a token bow of his head before speaking.

“Cardinal Saloxe, I congratulate you on your new station as Speaker and Recorder of the Synod.”

“I thank you, Lord Vagis, and we must offer our thanks for what you have delivered to our treasury.  Am I to understand that your mission was successful in all other respects?”

“This I shall report to his Supreme Holiness.  It is not to be discussed here, Cardinal, as I am sure you are aware.”

There was a moment of brooding silence filled with unspoken messages that passed coldly from eye to eye between the two men before Saloxe spoke again.

“His Holiness remains in Matrodar.  Essential business of the empire must be conducted during his absence.”

“I am sure you understand, Cardinal, why it is not appropriate to discuss this matter here.  The Synod rules Etoradom, but the Sacred Order of the Lord's Servants, over which I preside, is appointed by His Supreme Holiness to deal with all issues beyond our current borders.  I will therefore travel to Matrodar and report to the Emperor personally.”

“Very well.  But let us hope that your new duties do not prevent you from making this journey.”

“My new duties, Cardinal?”

“There have been certain difficulties in and around the city, which we were discussing prior to your arrival.  It is the Emperor's wish that one man should now take sole responsibility for the suppression of heresy.  That is to be your new duty.  The clerics gathered here have previously assumed this role, each being responsible for one segment of the city.  You shall now take authority over all of them.”

“Cardinal, I am honoured to be offered such a role but my responsibilities lay beyond these shores and I am not of the Synod, and so am hardly worthy.”

Saloxe pretended a little laugh.

“Lord Vagis, come now, we know that His Holiness holds your order in status higher than our modest council.”

With some obvious pleasure, deliberately delayed to enhance the enjoyment of it, Saloxe took and unwound a scroll.

“And here is the proof of it,” he said, “the order signed by His Holiness, that you shall rest from your travels, and enjoy some time at home while you undertake these new duties.”   

 The colour faded from His Lordship’s face.  Torrin knew him well enough by now to sense the dread concealed behind his next question.

“Am I also to be responsible for questioning and punishment?”

Saloxe’s hesitation before he answered was a sadistic and unnecessary pause.   

“That shall remain the special duty of the Brothers of Redemption.  However, His Holiness has instructed me to oversee their work. Your duty is to deliver the heretics to their Cloisters and let the Brothers do what must be done.”

His Lordship nodded and seemed to regain his composure.  Then Saloxe seemed to notice Torrin for the first time.

“Have you brought something to show us, Lord Vagis?” He asked.

“Indeed,” replied His Lordship, “it is called a Vasagi.  It comes from the dark edge of the world and, though it is heathen, it has some crude sense of honour.  I have made it my protector.”

One of the ancient clerics leaned forward from his throne and scrutinised Torrin.  

“I should not trust it behind me with a blade in its hand.”

Torrin folded his arms across his chest and chewed his lip irritably as the discussion continued.

“I do not see why not,” croaked out another of the old men, “a dog is loyal, and has not wit enough to know of conspiracy or treachery.  I might choose a ‘Vasagi’ for my own bodyguard.”

“I would rather choose the dog,” called out one of the others.

There was some murmuring of agreement and one or two cackles of laughter before Cardinal Saloxe spoke again to His Lordship.

“There are chambers appointed to you in the tower.  The guard of the city will be instructed to obey your orders.  I thank you for your attendance here, Lord Vagis.”

“It is my honour to serve,” said His Lordship.  He was about to withdraw when an afterthought seemed to strike him and he turned back to Saloxe. “Cardinal, Eminencies, will you join me in prayer?”

Saloxe rose slowly, an icy look in his eye.  There was a general discomforted shuffling from the other clerics.

“Of course, Lord Vagis,” said Saloxe.

“Mighty God,” pronounced His Lordship, “We pray for guidance and strength in these troubled times.  May your blessings be upon His Supreme Holiness.  May you grant Him long life, and safe passage back to this city.  May the blessings of His wisdom return soon to us, His humble servants gathered here.  Amen.”

There was a chorus of Amens around the room and then His Lordship led Torrin back to the head of the staircase.  As they returned to ground level His Lordship allowed a quiet chuckle to escape.  Torrin thought to himself that there were two things he had never previously seen His Lordship do, one was to laugh, the other was to pray.

 They returned to the waiting coach and began their journey from the tower.  His Lordship tilted his head through the window and gave the driver fresh instructions.  They passed more villas and other grander buildings, all contained within the circle of the citadel, until His Lordship ordered them to stop.  Beyond a barrier of spiked railings was a sombre edifice, a cold square building with squinting narrow windows.  In the grounds before them a procession of children was filing past in neat pairs overseen by an unsmiling priest.  They walked silently with head's bowed, as if fearful of catching the priest’s gaze, each wearing a tunic bearing the symbol of the circle and triangle.  His Lordship watched them shuffle quietly through the building's forbidding portal until all were gone.  From somewhere else within came the sound of many child voices chanting what Torrin guessed was a passage from the Text.

“You have children, Vasagi?” asked His Lordship quietly, still gazing from the carriage window.

“I have one, Lord.  One I have never held.  One who might now be walking a first few steps.  I do not even know if it is he or she.”