Chapter 21: A Sprinkling Of Crucible Ash

Caduceus of Massiegh, the Sogdian responsible for my first two years of training, had been promoted three months after I had, and so we found ourselves working together again in the Orbital Archive. My three months prior to his advancement helped me to learn enough about the Orbital Archive to be useful to Caduceus during his transition. Seeing that I'd become more attentive than I was during my days under his tutelage, the new Professor showed me a great deal of attention. Caduceus was like that. He ignored you if you showed no initiative, and fostered you if showed even a little. It was to him I first went to discuss my predicament.

"It all depends on what sort of creature you wish to be," he told me in a voice that yearned to emit from a much older throat.

"What do you mean?" I asked in a voice that yearned to sound much more confident and far less jaded.

"By our actions, we show ourselves to be either creatures of principle, or creatures of consequence. Ponder over this dilemma, and you'll find your answer."

We were midlevel, watching the massive spheres of the gyroscope whirl about from a point of illusory stillness. I was looking down, Professor Masseigh was looking up.

The archive was a sphere, and lit from behind the immense walls in ever changing colors. None knew for sure what the colors represented, though it was universally accepted the room depicted natural states from a past era. I was not convinced, and secretly entertained the frowned upon notion that it showed vast cycles of time. Caduceus discovered my wayward thoughts through artful conversation, but instead of reprimanding me, he even more artfully encouraged my discretion and independence.

"Such a view has radical implications," he'd cautioned me, "and would compel the Board to repurpose the Orbital Archive. Instead of it being an extension of a library, it would become a place of current study, and require a great deal more work than it currently does."

"But wouldn't we gain invaluable knowledge?" I'd asked. "We could find our place in the cycle, and learn how much longer it would last. We might even find a way to end it sooner, and be free of..."

He put a hand on my shoulder then, and with a nod, gestured to my rag and bucket. Now I felt he was about to do the same, but I spoke my thoughts to him anyway.

"He showed me kindness, and made my boots without charging a fee."

"You saved his daughter from a terrible fate. Any decent man would do as much."

"But would a decent man possess contraband?"

"Of course not. But a man acting against the good of his community would do everything he could to appear decent, especially to an enforcer of law, such as yourself."

"But I'm just a militiaman."

"A green recruit at that, and desperate for adequate gear. Young and impressionable, and in need. He could not have asked for a better opportunity. If not for the death of his saurian friend, I'd guess you'd been marked. You've confirmed the old tarrasquin did indeed die, I assume?"

I nodded, though I supposed his death could have been feigned. I did not return to where I'd found him, and was only then thinking it odd that Eris did not suggest we at least say some words. I had been too taken with her to think of anything but her, but then I remember reminding myself of how many dead I'd seen left for carrion in my life. Caduceus was one of the few citizens of Haven proper who could visualize life outside the bounds of civilization, and was quick to acknowledge the very possibilities I was mulling over.

"The girl was traumatized, and as you said the tarrasquin was an old friend of her fathers, and only newly acquainted with her. I see no reason to worry over yesterday, or today or tomorrow for that matter. Choose what you are to be a creature of, Victor, each day, each conundrum, each paradox, each debacle. Life is lived in the present alone, and takes as much time to define as do the boundaries of a sculpture."

"Mason Flaide says life is a mosaic."

Caduceus's hand on my shoulder. "Flaide is a great man, but dangerous. Wise selection of his to quote. Good parameter to keep."

I nodded, then picked up my bucket and went to the nearest wet closet.

Two hours lay between my shift in the Bibliotheca and my next detail with the militia. I decided to be a creature of principle with a respect for consequences, and informed the warden of my contact with Matias prior to his capture. I asked the warden if he felt my visiting him might serve a purpose, being that I'd ingratiated myself to the man, and was granted a fifteen minute audience. We were both escorted into the visiting cell, Matias with his hands and ankles bound. He was brought in by two guards. One seemed for a moment about to leave, but he looked me up and down and decided to stay.

"I told the warden you were friendly to me," I said.

"Thank you," he replied. His voice sounded raw.

"I don't suppose you can tell me why you were arrested."

Matias shrugged. "I fear it may have something to do with my friend, the tarrasquin."

"And your daughter's errand?".

The visiting hall was dark, cold, and rife with squalor. Other than our loud echoes, the sound of insects skittering across the floor was all one heard, and a solitary gas lamp hung corpse still above our table, casting a swath of stark white light that did more for the shadows than it did for our eyes. It was already affecting me, and I stifled the urge to press my fingers against my temples. Matias seemed to have been through a war, his whole face cut and stitched back together. His nose had clearly been broken.

"Eris has no crime in her. I hadn't seen Omod in decades. He... I can't abide this speech, but Fates, whatever they're after, we've nothing to do with it. I know my way out of here. I'll take a few more beatings, aye, but only my daughter needs looking after. 'Tis not the first time they've tried to take her. The targs have been getting worse. Them, and the King o' Thieves..."

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"Time's up," said one of the guards. I sized them up out of habit. Tank bred for durability and intimidation, I knew a pair of them to be an obstacle I could not then surmount, so all I did then was tell Matias I would try to find him a copy of his favorite book. His response to that was queer. He said that would be a bad idea, but he'd like a copy of Sisyphus Smiles, if I could obtain one for him. If not, it would be no bother. Then the guards took him away.

Unsure what to do next, I went to the Bibliotheca to find the book. I was only able to claim one copy, and when I offered money for a second, I found myself uncomfortable with the amount of questioning I was subjected to, so I said it was a small matter and I would be fine with just the one. I took the book home to my silo, reading from it while I rode within the wind serpent, then took a look at the box hidden in my cloak. I ran through my memory of the time I spent in Matias's house. I had hung up my cloak, I supposed, a thing any would do when entering a home. My cloak, my mask, all my outdoor gear. I had even been barefoot for a time. I guess Eris the more likely culprit, as she was furtive and seemed shocked when I saw her coming through the door. She may have been about to plant the case in my cloak pocket then. I did what pondering I could, then reported to my unit's meeting point. En-route, Tarion found me, and with a snarl told me our patrol had been canceled.

"Because they don't trust us," was his first response. I pressed him for more information, and he conceded that someone worse than the targs was seen prowling. I asked if it was Jadus, then found myself compelled to recant my visit with Matias and the reason for it. Tarion, a bald headed, bald faced man, whose face and scalp were divided by a quintet of deep scars, folded his arms and paced about. "This smells odd," he said. "Matias is no criminal. I know him well. Made me a few pairs of boots over the years."

"How long have you been in the militia?".

"Too long. Not long enough. Depends who you ask. Why do you?".

I shrugged, and as I had been since Matias's capture, told him the partial truth. "You seem an admirable man, and a tough soldier. Could be you're under utilized."

"If I conscripted, you'd have far less training than you're currently getting. We need competent militia, or the topsiders will never have justice. Do they deserve to be ignored by the people that won't let them move where life is better?"

I shook my head. "I feel a twinge of guilt every time I pass the border without trouble. I try to help them when I can."

Tarion slapped my shoulder, hard. "You're a decent lad. Go see Matias's girl, see that she's ok. Do what you can to comfort her. If you learn or see anything, anything, tell me and no one else. Got it?"

I saluted, and went to carry out my assignment. Eris wore a blank face when she opened their shop door. There were a few customers, clearly not dwellers of the surface. I stayed in the far corner, as they seemed the type who would be bothered by my appearance, and I did not want to interfere with Eris's income. I had very little money to offer her.

"I saw your father," I told her, when the customers had bought and left. "He seems confident he'll be released.". Her face remained blank. "If it helps, I'll hang on to the item. No one knows I have it."

Her face was no longer blank, but confused. The expression seemed genuine, and I revelled in the widening of her sad eyes. They were so dark. Oh, Eris. "You will likely not be troubled, if it was given to me without you knowing. Your father's friend..."

She rushed towards me, moved past me, flipped the sign on the storefront door and turned the latch. Shen then ushered me to their house and closed the shutters.

"You were close to him," she said, quietly, so quietly. "Before he died. He gave something to you?"

I shrugged. "Someone did. Have you any idea what it might be?"

"I suspected him, but father wouldn't hear it. Old war friends are never suspected, which is why they should always be."

"Old war friends? In which army?"

"My father moved here after my mother left."

"Left? Or was she taken, as you almost were? I'm sorry..."

"No. Don't be. I'm lucky. Maybe I won't be next time.". She went to the window and ran her fingers down the shutter. "You should turn it over. Whatever it is, it can't be good. If they know he gave it to you, my father will be released, and you will be pardoned, surely. You've been honest up til now."

I left before she turned, seeing to it that the door made no sound. I then went to Tarion's silo, a double wide alloted for families. He had his allotment of two children, both daughters. They were far prettier than I ever would have thought they could be, and wondered if Tarion had not at one time been handsome. His wife was plain of face and shapely of body, with a softness I also did not expect. It seemed Tarion took the full brunt of Tarthas for his family. The silo where his wife and he had their sleeping chamber had a balcony. He led me out onto it, and I looked down into the depths of Haven. Torches of every sort of fuel lined the infinite walls, growing brighter and cleaner the further down they plummeted. I took a long, slow whiff, and caught a hint of oil from the docks below. I told Tarion of my encounter with Eris.

"She knows more than she lets on," he said, "but she let on that she knows something. And she likes you, or she wouldn't have given you such good advice. Do you aim to follow it?"

"I'm curious what the item is."

"If anyone asks, I told you to hand it over. Are you at the library's tomorrow? If not, there's a patrol I could use you on? It will be early. An hour before dawn. Meet me then at the docks if you can."

I asked silently, looking down, then looking at Tarion. He confirmed those were the docks he meant. I went to Caduceus's house on my way to my silo, adding a significant amount of time to my trip. He agreed to let me off for the first half of the day, but warned me not to let my duties with the militia overtake my future at the Bibliotheca unless a path to conscription opened to me. I thanked Caduceus for his wisdom and concern, and finally went home to look at the metal box that fell from my cloak.

The box was thin enough to fit a small book only, or perhaps a selection of glass slides. The box was locked, and I went to work trying to discover how. It was not opened by a key, that much I could see, and spent over an hour peering at it from different angles. I decided to hang onto it for another day, as I could claim I hadn't discovered it yet. I hadn't marred the box, and so I put it back into my cloak pocket and went to sleep.

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