The Domes of Calrathia

Chapter Six: To Stand at Your Post

I awoke a few short hours later. Of what little I can recall, I was shown to the guest rooms, and I promptly fell on the bed. Yet, despite my exhaustion, I could not sleep soundly. Too many days had been spent in the wilderness. Too many nights had been spent huddled, wondering if I might not wake the next time I shut my eyes. My body was now accustomed to weariness, and knowing the long journey ahead, that was not altogether a bad thing. 

My room was a spacious one. For a moment, I sat on the bed, beholding my accommodations. The afternoon’s light filtered in from wooden shutters. On the tile floor was a white bearskin rug that had become ragged with age. The bed was immaculate but filled with old furs as well. To one corner was relegated a dresser and a small table. The other wall held a basin for washing and procuring drinking water. 

Yes, my chamber was dusty and had the smell of mold. Yes, there were widening cracks in the walls and the flooring. But after so many days of travel, I felt nothing but relief. I fell back, arms outstretched on the bed. On the ceiling was a faded mural of a rising sun, and I swore I could feel its warmth on my face. 

But soon my restlessness stirred me again. I got up with the intention of wandering the premises. Leaving my sword and meager possessions on the bed, I opened the door to a long hallway. But when I looked to my side, I recoiled in surprise as I saw a spindly figure keeping watch of my quarters. 

He was tall, head and shoulders above anyone I’ve encountered thus far. And yet, I could not describe him as large. His frame was inhumanely thin, with a torso that seemed to sink dangerously inward. His arms and legs stretched beyond normal proportion but not into monstrosity. 

The stranger wore robes the color of bone, long since picked clean. I noticed not a single part of his body wasn’t covered by white cloth. Everything from his velvet gloves to the tenderly wrapped linen around his neck made sure not one inch of skin was exposed. For his head, he wore a lace covering with long bands of fabric falling to his shoulders. However, his most startling feature was a silver mask carved in the visage of a kind, elderly man. Yet when I looked into the holes for the mask’s eyes, I could see only darkness. 

I was immediately comforted, for I knew then this was no man at all. 

He took notice of me and gave a deep bow. “I apologize if I surprised you. The mistress of this house bade me to watch over you and tend to your needs while she prepares dinner. My name is Charon, servant of the Aurelian family.”

“I have met many mannequins before, but none of your design. Do you hail from Terminus, or from I daresay an even stranger place?”

Charon lifted his head a little at the question. “The late master, father of Messalina and Berenice, purchased me from a traveling merchant. I can claim no homeland save the ground I tread.”

I nodded, a little disappointed at the answer. “Tell me, Charon. Is there a place in this house I can bathe? I regret I have not cleaned myself in some time.”

Charon straightened himself and lifted a long arm. “We have a bath reserved for guests. It is of a modest state, but it should suit your needs.” 

I followed the mannequin down the columned hallway. From high openings, the space was lit with the last rays of the sun. Charon took me through a passage and into a room with a lattice divider. On one side were an assortment of towels and a wooden bench. The other held the bath. Steps were carved into the floor and descended into a comfortable space for an individual. Along the sides of the empty pool were shelves containing various soaps and perfumes. 

Charon went over and started the water while I undressed on the other side of the divider. Some feel disconcerted being unclothed around mannequins, but I was used to such servants in Zodiak. It was they who kept the public bathhouses of which I visited from time to time. 

“Pardon me, but I’ve never met a mannequin such as yourself. For what purpose were you designed?”

From the other side of the divider, I heard the bubbling of water. “When I first came to Terminus, the merchant put me to work to prove my worth. I was made to carry the dead, who number too many among the poor, and mourn them on the outskirts of the city. Though I admit I find myself much happier here. My mistress has treated me well, and I have found no abuse in her service.”

“And what of your service? I have heard this house has found itself in disarray,” I asked, curious at the story behind the sisters. 

“You have heard truly. Although, I do not wish to lower your heart with such a sad tale.”

I could not help but chuckle at such a notion. As I sat down on the bench and peeled off my boots, I looked behind the lattice. “Do not worry upon my account. There is nothing that moves among the stars that could burden my heart any further. Tell the story.”

“Their father, Valerian, was a respected citizen of Terminus. To his daughters, he bequeathed the wealth he had built from his toil as an administrator for the city. When Messalina came of age, he promised her hand to a worthy suiter. However, shortly after, he fell gravely ill with an unknown sickness. Messalina called off the marriage to take care of her ailing father. She had Berenice tend to his needs while she bartered many of their possessions for money. Berenice was by her father’s side day and night, but it was of no avail. He died on his bed, leaving Messalina as heir to his fortune and his house. Berenice was left in her charge. I only wish it had been otherwise.”

I left my clothes on the wooden bench and stepped forth from the divider. Charon was kneeling over a pipe, swiftly filling the pool with hot water. Already steam was swelling in the room. I dipped my toe in the water before wading in. All at once, I sank quickly into the water and allowed the fatigue to slip from my bones. I submerged myself up to my nose and felt my body finally relax. 

“I shall take your garments to be washed.” Charon stood up. “There is a tunic and trousers in the left drawer. They should accommodate you until then.”

“Stay.” I lifted my head from the water and sat in the pool. “I do not get to enjoy the pleasure of conversation often anymore.”

“I am pleased I could entertain you, but I fear I will make for poor company. I am not adept in the talk of men,” Charon protested. 

“Neither am I. To tell you the truth, I was never fully welcomed among my fellows. Even when I played as a child, I often did so alone. I shall not pass up the chance at captive company.”

Charon bowed and went behind the divider while I enjoyed the hot water. It was some time before I spoke again. 

“I am still curious of you. You say you do not remember your homeland, but surely you remember something of your past. Men cannot help but impart themselves upon the mannequins they create.”

“I am sorry to say it is too little to bother recounting,” Charon said. “While mannequins have a perfect memory, I find myself not in possession of much of my early days. But what would you remark of your own childhood? I am told humans are prone to forgetfulness. Perhaps you have a memory here or there, but your youth is likely as lost as mine. It is a sad tragedy of both our kind. We are creatures who often yearn for what was and what will never come to pass.”

“Tell me your first memory, then. You must have one as I do. For each and every one of the Astronomers, our recollection begins at the age of five. I remember it very well. I was sitting in a room of mirrors, stretching into the far distance. In the center was a flame that had no beginning nor end. It was so bright I could hardly bear to look at it. I remember holding my hand to the fire, and it did not burn.”

“An odd ritual,” Charon commented. “For what use is it?”

“It is a lesson, though the young need not fully grasp it at the time. We are indeed scholars of the light, but it is also through light that we come to understand everything around us. Our way is not the study of featureless philosophies or the ramblings of dusty texts. Our way is a plunge into every corner of every world, illuminating the path forward for men. One only escapes the mirrored room by journeying into to the unknown. That is what it means to be an Astronomer.”

I closed my eyes and cupped my hands in the hot water. Pouring it over my head, I could still see that fire and that room. I still saw the faces of who were once my friends. I saw Master Rigel in his study deprived of books, for all knowledge had run out. 

“An interesting tale. You have shared very graciously with me, and I will do my best to reciprocate. This is not my first memory, but I do not think that was the heart of your question. To begin my story, there was once a mannequin named Canorh. As you probably know, we mannequins are created when men thread language in a spool. As this spool slowly unwinds, we come into being. And when the thread runs out, we shall die. In a very real sense, we are given life with the words men breathe, much the same as how the first man was created.”

I nodded along, listening intently. 

“What you may not know is that it requires only a single word to create the mannequin. The rest add flourishes to our design, imbibe us with knowledge, and give color to our existence. But only one word repeated again and again is necessary for our being. Canorh thought himself very blessed, for he was adorned with every manner of word known to men. It is not among the nature of our kind to be vain, but he was persistent. He called upon his fellows, though he treated them like servants, and asked them if he was not the happiest of them all. But soon after, misfortune struck his master, and he had to sell off his possessions to pay his debts. He called forth Canorh, his most expendable treasure, and hacked off each and every word for sale. The mannequin was left with nothing but for his single word. And then that was taken too.”

I waited for Charon to continue, but he remained silent. My eyes furrowed with confusion at the end of the mannequin’s story, and I glanced over at the divider. “What was the last word?”

“I do not know. It was purchased.”

“Then what was the point of the story? What does this have to do with anything?”

“What does it mean to be what I am? That was your question correct? How can I know what I am until I know my end? How can any mannequin—any man—know fully what he is until his breath leaves him? Canorh thought he was lucky until he met his fate. Life is a process of becoming, and to die is to finally understand what we are. A soldier may die a traitor. A murderer may die a saint. Do not say I am thus and thus, for you do not know where life may take you.”

I was frustrated by the answer. I did not want to let the mannequin off so easily, especially since I revealed my own secrets to him. I slid out of the water and rested my elbows on the stone. “But there are things that define you. You were created somewhere by someone. You have a home and a people. Even if you do not know your fate, there is much you do know.”

“For men, perhaps. But for a mannequin, everything can be given, and everything can be taken away.” Charon quietly picked up my clothes from behind the divider. “Begging your pardon, but may I leave to wash your garments? It will take some time, and I do not wish to tarry with the day’s chores.”

I gave him permission, and relaxed back into the water, pondering for a long while on what he had said. 

…

When Charon returned, I had already emptied the bath and finished putting on the clothes left for me. The tall mannequin in white robes bowed again. “Messalina wishes to treat you for dinner. I have already informed your friend Gereon. If you would follow me…” He led the way down the hall. 

We went into the foyer, where we first entered the house. Night had now fallen, and flickering torches lined the walls. Four massive columns held up a high ceiling decorated with all manner of carved animals. A set of straight stairs led to the second and third floors, impressive for Terminus. All around us were the lavish trappings of wealth, long since faded. We took a side passage and entered into an open garden. 

The same vents out in the street pushed themselves through overgrown grass, heating the large area. Though it should’ve been freezing, I felt perfectly comfortable with the linen clothes I had on. We passed further into the foliage, and I was surprised at the great variety of flowers around us. Every hue blossomed into a wonderful whirl of colors. Strange vines wriggled up gnarled trees, almost like green spiderwebs being woven by an invisible loom. 

In the center of this garden was a long stone table where Messalina sat at the head. Berenice was still placing plates for a veritable feast. I stopped for a moment, shocked at the amount and quality of the food. I suspect they had emptied the last of their storerooms for this singular meal. As I sat down at the table, my mouth filled with savory anticipation. 

The first course was a creamy bisque with lobster. I had never eaten such an animal before and found it had a surprisingly tangy taste. After that came an assortment of fine vegetables, although I stuck mostly to the carrots and the lettuce, not wishing to fill up partway through the meal. Even so, it was very difficult for me to refrain from the buttered bread which had been placed on the side. The main course was salted mutton served with a thick brown sauce. I did not recognize it from the taste, but it was delightfully sweet to the tongue. After that, I abstained from the two further courses as I couldn’t stomach anymore food. Finally, dessert was a plate of pastries filled with blueberry jam. All the while, we sipped on a dark wine that seemed equally expensive to the meal we had just eaten. 

I noticed only Berenice and Charon were serving the table. Twice I tried to get up to help her, but I was met with firm protestations from both her and Messalina. Thankfully, Berenice had set down the sword. Placing it near a tree opposite of Messalina, she appeared happier not bearing the huge weight on her small frame. Despite this, she still never left it out of sight. 

As the evening carried on, our conversation turned to the state of the house. 

“It is unfortunate,” Messalina admitted. “I believed I could keep the estate in order after my father passed on, but recent events have made it clear to me that I require a husband to help with my affairs,” she phrased wryly, eyeing the both of us. 

An awkward silence passed over the table. Gereon and I glanced at each other before answering. 

“It would be delightful if I could stay here and eat many more meals like this. Unfortunately, I am duty bound to travel south for the city of Calrathia. Yet even if this were not the case, Astronomers take a vow of celibacy upon their elevation as full members of the School. I cannot ever take a wife.”

“Nor can I,” Gereon said as well. “Although my oath does not prevent me from marriage, I must return to my post once our business in Terminus is concluded. It also happens I do not intend to return to this city once my watch has ended. But surely you should not have difficulty procuring a husband. You are young and possessing of great beauty.” 

Messalina shrugged as she swirled the wineglass. “Yes, I do have my pick of the denizens of Terminus, but a good man is hard to find. Especially one that can acquit himself as well in combat as either of you. The next time I hire servants, I need someone to keep them in order.”

“But you would never be happy with such a man, dear sister,” Berenice spoke. “You would no longer be free to conduct your business, and you would have to sire children.”

This was the first time Berenice had spoken during the entire conversation. 

A dark look passed Messalina’s face at her sister, but she quickly turned back to us and smiled again. 

“You don’t desire children?” Gereon asked. 

“No, I find them quite a nuisance.” Messalina sipped her wine. “The whine of a babe is intolerable, and they are such dirty creatures. It astounds me that any woman would ruin her beauty to bring forth the little things. They have greater courage than I, that much is certain.”

“Pardon me for saying, but a woman of sense would not hesitate to bear a child,” I interjected. “Beauty is but a passing thing. We all shall lose it soon enough. Meanwhile, to have children is one of the greatest sacrifices one can make. Your lineage is one of the few things that will endure beyond your death in this world. To exchange that for vanity is a mistake.” 

Messalina turned to me with a flat expression. “As a woman of sense, I disagree. Tell me, if children were so important, why do Astronomers swear them off? Why does your order not perpetuate itself in blood? You speak of children as continuance, yet you say you do not practice it yourself. That seems absurd to me.” 

“Because children are a sacrifice. To be an Astronomer is to dedicate yourself wholly to the School and its tenents.”

“But do they? I mean no disrespect to your School or its traditions, but how many Astronomers refrain from the flesh? Passion rules the will of men. It seems pointless to extract a vow of celibacy when that rule is obviously going to be broken. At best, you’re stifling young men. At worst, you are ensuring the birth of illegitimate children. Better to have no oath at all.” 

I remained calm, keeping vividly in mind that I was a guest. “It is not right to condemn a rule because many break it.” 

The face of my mentor, Master Algol, flashed through my mind. For a moment, I saw him there, sitting with us before the vision vanished. I suddenly wished I had my cloak to wrap around myself instead of the tunic I was wearing now. 

Messalina remained expressionless, her eyes fixed on me. “Ah well, my heart goes out to them, regardless. Of all the offenses, passion seems the most forgivable. It is just human nature to go back on our word, especially concerning something so small. Oath-breakers do not deserve the scorn they get. I take pity on them, the poor lot.”

“I say better exile than to forfeit your honor.”

I said this truly, but my heart wrenched in my chest. Regret stung me, and I looked away, recalling memories I wished to tear from all thought. It took all my effort to remain presentable. I had forsaken everything to protect my School, which I had loved above my own life. And in return, I was struck with a sword, cleaving me in two. When a woman commits adultery, she tosses away the heart of her husband for another. Yet even this betrayal felt like a lover’s kiss compared to what tore at my soul. I had done everything I was taught to believe, and for it, I was condemned to die.

Link to Chapter Seven