The Domes of Calrathia

Chapter Ten: The Hand of Justice

Messalina treated us to one final breakfast before we were to depart. Berenice did not attend, claiming that she felt ill. I had not spoken to her since the strange funeral. Charon repeatedly insisted I be silent about it to Messalina, only stating that she would be most displeased. It was a shame I would not have the opportunity to investigate further. I confess my heart felt torn leaving Berenice, but my oath drew me to Calrathia, and there was no helping it. 

“It has just occurred to me,” Messalina said while eating some eggs. “I have not seen the book you are carrying to Calrathia. Do you mind if I hold it? You might be the last courier to ever venture beyond the Border Wall. It would be an honor to hold the text in my hands.”

“It is an illuminated manuscript, and it is very precious. I cannot risk it being damaged, even by the touch of one’s fingers.”

My excuse was half true. I did not want to risk it being damaged, but I was more concerned with Berenice’s warning to keep my possessions close. Upon returning to my room, I checked that it was indeed still there. I slept with my satchel in my arms that night and always kept a hand on it in the days following. Even now it lay next to me in my seat. 

I expected Messalina to insist, but she shrugged her shoulders and continued the conversation. She had been in an unusually good mood that morning. For all the time that I had known her, she had been calm or morose at best. Now, she seemed barely to keep herself from giggling. I glanced over at Gereon, and he seemed to notice her change in behavior as well. 

Nevertheless, we continued our friendly chatter. Charon came by and nodded as Messalina whispered him instructions. I was too busy savoring the meal to pay attention. It likely would be my last proper food before the long journey ahead. While he gave a slow nod and walked off, I was toying with my food with my fork, wondering if I would ever have eggs again. 

I remember it was quiet that morning. I have always found silence a comfort, but I only realized later that it had not been the peaceful quiet I had grown to love. Instead, it was the holding of a deep breath, dreading a terrible plunge. Had I known what I know now, I don’t know what I would’ve done. 

A short time later, a scream broke our pleasant meal. The horrible wail trailed off, but I instantly recognized it as Berenice’s. Gereon and I both rushed to our feet, and gripping our swords, we ran to her. Entering the forum, we found Berenice on her knees. Placed on the floor was an empty casket with its lid ajar, the same coffin that once held the infant. 

We ran over to her, though we could offer her no aid. I looked over the coffin, confused at how it could’ve come here. I had seen it lowered in the grave with my own eyes. Berenice was inconsolable. She sobbed over the empty casket, crying and weeping. Her face was wet with tears, and her sword was left forgotten on the floor behind her. I had never seen such heartbreak before, and all I could do was place my hand upon her shoulder, wishing the world that I could ease her pain. 

Messalina appeared down the hall. Berenice saw her, and for the first time, I saw a look of hatred upon her face. 

“You! What did you do with him!?” She shrieked. 

“It was an ill-gotten mongrel, a mistake. You trespassed by burying the thing among our ancestors as I expressly forbade. I had no choice but to intervene.”

“He was your son!”

Messalina shrugged. “It was an inconvenience.”

I had little more knowledge than Gereon, but we both drew our swords upon Messalina as she smiled hideously at Berenice’s torment. She turned to us. 

“You would do well to put your swords away if you understood what you had to gain.”

“What did you do with the boy!?” I yelled. 

“I threw it out,” Messalina cooly replied. “As I should’ve done from the beginning if my sister had not insisted on keeping the body.”

Berenice threw herself over the coffin and weeped bitterly. 

Messalina turned to us. “If you should know the full story, then I shall regale it to you. I took Crixus into my household, yes. I had relations with him, hoping he would be a well and faithful servant. I drank deeply of the dry nectar, but I conceived anyway. Upon learning he had a child, Crixus forced me to bring his son to birth. I hated every moment of it. When the mongrel was free from my womb, I refused to take charge of the child. My sister foolishly fed the child and kept it alive. When I could bear the indignation no longer, I smothered the creature so it would not suffer to live. Crixus took us in the night in vengeance for my act.”

I would’ve struck her down in that instant, such was my rage. I stepped forward, ready to do the deed, but I was stopped. Charon, who had been still as a statue in the hall, moved himself between me and Messalina. 

“As you are bound by your oaths, so am I to the master of this house.” He raised a sword from his white robes. “I cannot act otherwise.”

Gereon also raised his sword, and he would’ve taken Messalina’s head, but the mannequin was too formidable a foe. He could not suffer a grievous injury, nor could he be tired or worn down. Had it been the two of us against him, we would’ve likely perished. 

“If you are so against me, then leave this house,” Messalina said indignantly. “I do not wish to spill your blood in my home. And if you are concerned for the safety of Berenice, do be troubled. I will take care of my far too foolish sister. My business ends here.”

I could tell very much that it had not, but I had little choice in the matter. Fighting the mannequin would be tantamount to throwing my life away, and I had a greater obligation to my duty. To be struck down before I had even stepped foot on the Great Ice Plain was an unbearable thought. 

I had also a second, less honorable reason. It sickened me that I once raised a hand to help this woman, and I wanted to wash my hands of the whole affair as quickly as possible. I pitied Berenice, and it was well that I helped her, but I could do no more. I sheathed my sword. Gereon, seeing my decision, followed as well. I went to the garden to collect my possessions, and I patted my satchel to see the manuscript was still safely inside. Returning to the forum, I put my hand on Berenice’s shoulder. 

“I am sorry.”

She glanced up at me; her face was red with tears. “What did I tell you? Leave this cursed place! And don’t look back!”

She spat those words with pain and grief in her voice, but I could see that she said them only to spare us moreso. I bowed deeply, and I left that house with Gereon. I noticed Cheron bowed as well, and I knew then they were both captives to Messalina. 

…

We took to the streets of Terminus. Neither of us talked, having lost the mood. For myself, I hated what had happened. It is a pernicious fancy of mine that all good which comes my way becomes evil in due time. If someone placed gold in my hands, at that moment, I could believe it would crumble to dust. 

I again wondered what end I would meet out in the cold. Perhaps my rescue of this wretched woman was a sign of my impending venture. Everything had been in vain, and it would’ve been better if I had instead done nothing at all. Thoughts like these trailed behind me as we entered the court of Elagabalus, a city administrator. 

We entered a great marble hall. At the end of the long, columned room, there was a high desk flanked by two mannequins garbed with red cloaks and bronze chest plates. They wore masks of young men with wigs fashioned of golden hair. Their hollow eyes watched as we approached and kneeled before Elagabalus. 

He was strangely young for such a high station, scarcely reaching manhood. His curly hair and soft features gave him an effeminate affection, and his flippantly bored expression betrayed a lack of respect for his office. I already did not like this individual, and I was glad to be soon departing this abominable city. 

“Greetings Magistrate,” Gereon began. “We come before you to request supplies and a means of travel for my friend, as is the law. He is a courier bound for Calrathia and requires the assistance of the city for his journey.”

“I did not receive a letter of introduction. Where is it?” The youth rested his cheek on his palm, yawning. 

Gereon glanced at me, but I had no answer to give him. I was unaware I needed a letter. No one had ever told me of such a thing. The School had not sent anyone to Calrathia in centuries, and it seemed this custom had been forgotten.

“He does not possess a letter.”

“If he does not have one, then Terminus has no obligation to provide for him. I suggest you return to your School and procure one.”

To say I was dismayed would be a gross misuse of the word. What he was proposing so listlessly was insanity! It had taken me weeks to arrive at Terminus, and even if I went back, I could no longer call upon the Anemoi. There were other ways to Zodiak, but I did not have the coin nor the influence to gain such passage. And if I somehow returned, I would be killed immediately. I could do not but stare in horror at this boy who did not care one whit of another’s tribulation. 

“I cannot return to my School as I am in exile,” I carefully explained, holding back my temper. “It is impossible for me to obtain this letter. I can do naught but fall at your feet and beg that you make an exception. Please.”

“I hear your plea, but I cannot do this. The law is the law, and I have no choice but to uphold it. You may still embark on your journey across the Great Ice Plain on foot. Or, perhaps you may find some kindness from a citizen in the city. But you will not find any aid here.”

I knew to try to cross the plain on foot was suicide. So had it come to this? Was I really reduced to begging from door to door? It was darkly comical that I might have to fall on some stranger’s good mood to go die out there. 

“The law is that Terminus assists the couriers! That is sacred!” Gereon raised his voice to my defense. “It has been so from the beginning! You must help this man!” 

Elagabalus lifted a hateful eye. “How am I supposed to know that he is indeed a courier and not some swindler? He is not garbed as someone from a School. And even if he was, that does not prove his intention to travel to Calrathia. I do not know either of you, and as you bring nothing to vouch, I am under no obligation whatsoever. I am bound by law to protect the assets of the city, not squander them on whoever comes walking through those doors.”

I knew he only denied me because getting what I would need would be inconvenient for him. I had seen a hundred men like this youth back in Zodiak and elsewhere. They twist the law with sly words, making themselves comfortable while inflicting their hypocrisy on others. There were no greater scoundrels of men, and yet I had no other choice. Reason nor argument would win this man, and the only thing I had left was pity. 

I humbled myself in that marble hall. I got down on both knees and kissed the floor, holding myself prostrate before the magistrate. I can say that it does not get easier the second time. Though at this juncture, I had neither respect nor dignity left to adorn me. I wore a crown of shame; its thorns were now much familiar to me. 

I held my eyes shut, but I could always see Master Algol’s mocking face. Every time he drank himself into a stupor, every time he stole coin from the treasury, every time he flaunted the rules of the School and received no punishment, each one was a scourge on my heart. And I was the one punished! Again and again, I called out for justice, and I received no reply. 

I took out my illuminated manuscript and held it out. I still kept my eyes shut. I could not bear to look at his face if his answer was no. I was prepared to remain there for as long as it took. I would wait on his threshold for the rest of my days if need be. I had nowhere else to go. 

More silence. My heart was beating so loud it felt like a drum was being beaten in my chest. Would the Potentate move this man’s heart to mercy? I hoped finally for something good to come my way. 

And then I heard a snicker. I felt my throat close up. I opened my eyes, expecting to see the sniveling youth mock me. But I was horrified to see not my manuscript in my hands, but instead a children’s book of approximately the same size. Its cover was worn and stained with age, and it looked like an infant had scrawled on it. 

Elagabalus burst out laughing, echoing in the large hall. I was paralyzed in my humiliation. I thought the stripping of my mantle had been mortifying, but nothing compared to this. Nothing. At that moment, I wished to be hurled in the darkest pit, so deep that no one could ever see me again. I wanted to carve out my heart and die on the spot. Anything to get me away from this place and its people! 

I wondered how we appeared to the Potentate, scampering little things that we were. We think ourselves brave and clever and heroic, but we were as fragile as leaves in the autumn. For all my efforts, all I held was folly in my hands. It was all folly! Cursed was the day that I was born! I would’ve rather been smothered after birth, then at least I could rest easy in the grave! 

Gereon looked as equally shocked as I did, though we both knew the culprit immediately. 

“I had thought you might be swindlers, but it had not crossed my mind that you might simply be ill in the head.” Elagabalus gasped between his cackling laughter. He was crying as he beat his desk with his fist. Finally, however, he gained composure to speak again, still chuckling and snickering every few seconds. “You have brought me much amusement. If one of you wishes to be my jester, I shall take either of you.”

“I must go to retrieve my manuscript,” I said, rising to my feet and pocketing the book back in my satchel. 

“Then go, but the second you walk over the threshold, your audience with me is concluded.” Elagabalus relaxed in his chair, playing with his stylus. 

It had taken nearly a week to arrange this meeting, and I could not bear the thought of having to wait another, especially since I no longer had a roof over my head and gracious hosts to attend to me. I was willing to labor for food, but I feared I was getting ensnared in the city. One thing often led to another, and I could not delay in my quest. 

“I’ll remain here,” Gereon said to assure me. “Our audience is not concluded until we both leave.” 

He turned sharply to the magistrate. “And when he returns with his manuscript, it will be undeniable that he is a courier. That will be his vouch.” Gereon spat. 

Elagabalus shrugged, clearly curious about what I would return with. After making such a fool of myself, it seemed he wanted to see what I would do next to entertain him. But I could tell you I had no intention of being more subject to ridicule. I departed that hall, vowing to retrieve my charge at any cost, even if I had to kill Charon. 

But I cannot deny, as I stepped out into Terminus once again, that I was a broken man.