A Fine Black Sky
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
The flight of the mada moth was a little erratic, principally due to its mass versus its wing thew, yet nature had deemed it functional and therefore for its species, an evolutionary progression was not needed. Giving evolution a personality, however, was certainly incongruous with the actual facts of fitness in nature.
The mada moth emanated a low hum, a process of the wing celerity from the rapid motion of the fabrication of minuscule eddy currents in the air, which alerted some to its presence, but largely it journeyed unnoticed through the darkness of the Tower, its sound merging efficiently with the low hum of industry and discussion, as it came slowly upon the floor of the South Tower that contained the Rulers, the Administrators and the Chiefs of varied Offices.
It was a different kind of industry, in that most of that industry was conducted either verbally or upon paper, with streams of Attendants milling about the corridors with ruthless efficiency and practiced attention, ferrying the industrious musings from one slightly indifferent Administrator to another. Occasionally, the mada moth would alight itself upon the shoulder or head of an Attendant, for relief from the strain of passage, but never too long, as it would fly away moments before its host attempted to remove it. Nothing except the instinct to do so drove the mada moth onward, as it was ever searching here and there for anything interesting, though principally it searched for light, and even it knew not why. It was an imperative that mutation bypassed, for the brief light the energy pipes emitted had been enough to both excite and placate the mada moth and its ancestors.
The path of the mada moth, upon shoulder of one Attendant, led it into the Office of the Chief Advisor, Gregeph Rivalis, Brother of Rivalis IV, and Uncle of Osseus.
The Attendant brushed distractedly at something upon his tunic, but it had gone even before his hand had reached the spot. The Office was quite opulent, what with its many gold framed pictures, mostly of the many Lords once of the South Tower. There was placed of particular importance and directly behind the desk, one such frame that might have been too gold braided and elegantly carved and in pride of place, a portrait of Rivalis IV, though any true semblance to the man himself had long since been painted over. It was true to say it was a representation of the man, but what it represented about him was vanity and narcissism.
There were a few religious statues about the Office, but they seemed to have been placed for aestheticism rather than worship. There was a fireplace, which was regularly cleaned to a newness of centuries ago. yet everything else about the room was in shadow, save for the strip of the power pipe just under the portrait of Rivalis IV. It illuminated enough of the room to be able to see by. The only other illumination came from a hooded lantern, the light focussed on the desk and the rolls of parchment thereupon. The Attendant coughed to announce his entry, causing the Chief Advisor to look up tiredly.
“I am afraid they have received another complaint about your Nephew, Osseus?” explained the Attendant, passing over to the Chief Advisor a piece of paper.
The Chief Advisor took the note from the Attendant and read the contents absently, “What did the idiot do this time?”
“More of the same?” shrugged the Attendant.
The Chief Advisor shook his head, “Idiot child. Some kind of mistake, I keep telling my Brother. Yet even now, he refuses to discipline the boy. Youthful high spirits, I believe he calls it. A damn nuisance, is what I say.” explained the Chief Advisor, waggling his index finger at the Attendant.
“He is your Brother’s child, Sir?” added the Attendant.
“And don’t I know it! He wants the boy to take over from me when he comes of age. Can you believe that? My Brother wants to sideline me, for his idiot child? Over my cold, dead, discarded corpse.” said the Chief Advisor, snatching another piece of paper that required his moniker.
After a moments pause, the Attendant deigned to speak, “It won’t come to that, Sir.”
The Chief Advisor looked to the Attendant sharply, yet with curiosity, “What do you mean?”
“I may be speaking out of turn here -“
“No, go on.” waved the Chief Advisor.
“- But the boy is useless at his study. He has others doing his work for him, and the Tutors are too cowardly to go against the wishes of the Son of the Lord of the Tower. He is virtually getting away with murder, or so I am told.”
The Chief Advisor looked thoughtfully into the darkness of the room, “Well, that does create an interesting set piece, does it not? As for the bullying -“
The Attendant interrupted the Chief Advisor, suspecting what his next words were to be, “It is said that he bullies most of the children, but principally his attention is focussed upon that strange child of the Lord of the North Tower.”
“Him? Well, I suppose I can see why. That Praefuscus, he shows far too much leniency, and this is simply indicative of his rule. If I had my way -“
The Attendant coughed an interruption, “Sir. I think it prudent not to complete that remark.” explained the Attendant, gesturing around him, indicating that the walls had many secretive listening holes.
The Chief Advisor then nodded sagely, “Perhaps you’re right. Well, as for Osseus - give him enough rope, and he may hang himself. Take this note to his Tutors.” said the Chief Advisor, handing to the Attendant a hastily scribbled note.
“As you wish, Sir.” agreed the Attendant, taking the note from him and striding toward the door. The mada moth took further advantage of the Attendant’s arm, having found nothing in the room of value, except the beautiful, tantalising glow of the power pipe.
The mada moth was upon the tunic of the Attendant, avidly investigating the odious material for food, for that was its function. Who it alighted upon, who’s desk it found itself crawling over, it cared not. Even if it could understand those people and their chatter, it would still not have understood, as its points of reference were different, yet it found itself in the Halls of Rule, with impossibly high ceilings, replete with complex and intricate carvings and embossed reliefs upon the domed roof, that no one would ever see.
They sang of the Gods, and showed upon the paintings friezes of the tales of those Gods, when they walked with the people. If one was able to see the faces depicted there, perhaps more than one would have been familiar. However, now much of the paint had been eaten away by the varied insects and animals that found themselves in those high rib-vaulted ceilings, from the materials that were once used in the construction of that paint, not to mention the mould and moss that grew there, manifesting a kind of simple formation of life.
Yet this passed completely unnoticed, as the people below rarely looked above waist height, their heads bowed and reading paper as they moved. Many older Administrators and Attendants upon this floor had developed kyphosis, a product of the action they performed. The small dark figures that wandered the dark shadowy halls did indeed create an impression of mysticism, of mystery and wonder, complimenting the grandeur of the design within.
The main focus, principally, of the most fervent of activity, was within the small apse, the ante-room that led to the Lord’s own Office. It was here the mada moth cautiously ascertained a potential for opportunity. It left the Attendant behind, and jumped upon another, who strode into the throng of people, and into the Office beyond.
Once the door was shut, silence fell about the room, save for the soft crackling of material burning calmly within the blackened and well used fireplace. By one side of this was a spot in the flagstones that had worn to a smooth indentation, where centuries of Lords had stood, contemplating the Office and its duty. Not Rivalis IV however. He rarely left his desk. Contemplation was for Aberrants and Deviators. A Lord should not contemplate. A Lord should action, and pay for those decisions later. It was an instinct, according to Rivalis IV, that of being a Lord, much like the mada moth, which, while employing the said instinct, looked about for something to eat. It shook off the remnants of the cobweb of the frequense spider it didn't know it carried, and movement became a little easier. Yet it still calmly, unconsciously looked for the light. For perhaps there lay the mada moth’s salvation, whatever that happened to be.
“Ah, Gaton. I have a letter for you to take. Just one minute, while I finish my conversation with Alianor here. Do go on?” Lord Rivalis IV gestured for the Chief Vigilant to continue.
“I was saying, I think we need to replace the Vigilant Officer. He is becoming beyond a nuisance. I spend more time reprimanding him and rescinding his orders than I actually do my own work.” Alianor explained from her usual seat opposite the Lord.
Lord Rivalis IV waved his hand dismissively. Gaton, on the other hand had sidled up to the large black book all Tower Lords carried, for it contained all a Lord should know about ruling a Tower. It was not simplistic, but a complicated set of instructions, formulas, designs - the list could easily have filled a large sheet of paper. Some speculated it contained magic, but as all knew, there was no magic, only technology, “Do as you wish. I trust in your judgement. Now, as for these rumours about Rapio Praefuscus -“
Alianor shrugged, “I do not listen to gossip.”
“Well, that’s as may be, but many do. I want a watchful eye kept on the more seditious elements within this Tower. Some only need the merest of reasons to cause strife. Alright. I think that’s all for now - there is the matter of that rendezvous we discussed?” Lord Rivalis IV looked to the Chief Vigilant then, cautiously, aware there was another in the room.
Alianor nodded sagely, “With the, uh -“
“Yes. With that. Gaton! Do leave that alone!” The Attendant had reached out for the large book and was beginning to lift the cover a little, as he thought he had seen actual pictures moving around on a page inside, but he had no way to be sure without looking again. Perhaps his eyes had played tricks on him. When the Lord reprimanded him, all thought of that escaped him and he stood sharply to attention.
“I presume it’s -“ began Alianor, leaving some words unsaid.
“Yes, it’s still set. So, uhm -“ Lord Rivalis IV looked up awkwardly.
It seemed the Chief Vigilant received the message, loud and clear, “Should I go?”
Lord Rivalis IV nodded, “Please. Right, Gaton. I wish you to take this -“ he began, now addressing the Attendant, but Alianor the Chief Vigilant did not hear it, as she had already left the room. And so had the mada moth, upon her tunic.
As the Chief Vigilant left the Lord’s Office, she entered the steady stream of Attendants. Like a permanent conveyor belt, the progress of progress never halted, it merely changed state. She followed the movement passively, much as the mada moth did, which sensed it was close to whatever it was it had been seeking, and perhaps even the mada moth was unaware of what that could be, until it came upon it. After several odd turns, Alianor came to her own Office and slipped inside.
Once there, she loosened her tunic a little and ruffled her long dark curly hair, displacing the mada moth, which flew about the room, crash-landing on the sill of the window, firmly closed. It tried a scrap of paper that lay upon the sill, and, disgusted by it, flew upwards toward the ceiling.
Disciplinary sheets. It seemed she was surrounded by them. Thievery, absentees, the lazy, lackadaisical, unmotivated - it was a litany of drudgery she would face almost daily. The trouble was, people simply thought that once someone donned that tunic, they became infallible guardians of civilised society. That simply was not the case. There had been a certain element of late that seemed to take their work casually, presumably through some sense of self worth. It never was that way in her day, but then it never would be. That was and would ever become the excuse of all senior Officers - it wasn't like that in my day. Except it probably was, but then hindsight was always clearer, viewed through the prism of distance.
And it wasn't as though she had been a terrible Chief. Far from it. She had managed to sort out inherent problems in the system, such as rosters, accommodation and duties. So she had a dalliance with the Lord of the Tower? So what? That man would not keep her in that position simply for that reason? Lord Rivalis IV was a stern, serious, sensible leader, and would never let something like that distract him. Or would he?
Still, discipline had to be done, or at least seen to be done, so that the general public was assured that those protecting them could be trusted and safe.
Seen to be done. There was no surefire way of making these recruits follow the letter of the law, but there was a way of making it seem like they were. Alianor was a master at manipulation, in that she knew who to place with whom. In other words, she ensured regularly that each troublesome Vigilant was paired with an enthusiastic one. The presumption was that the one would balance out the other, that through some simple psychology, the troublesome one was less likely to cause mischief when in the presence of the other. It didn’t, of course, always work, but it had reduced problems down to a manageable size. Those she could not handle, she thrust out into the City, to patrol the dangerous streets.
The short sharp shock treatment. It was astounding how many quickly changed their attitude when faced with that option. It did mean that many of the truly dangerous Vigilants were out in Unity, but, as far as Alianor was concerned, out of sight, out of mind. She was often seen as a Motherly-type figure to the Vigilants, something she herself fostered. The truth was she was ruthless, organised and disciplined beyond recourse - yet woe betide those outside the Vigilants who accused or complained. They were her boys and girls. Her’s alone. Damn everyone else. She was one calculating woman, was that Alianor, with the deep silver streak in her hair.
The mada moth found that the door from the Office was only slightly ajar, yet it managed to squeeze through, with barely a scrape as it did. There was nothing in that room but bitterness and a sourness incarnate - so the mada moth continued its journey, its adventure ever onward, deeper into the desolate sea of grey and white, of mouldy old men and decaying paper, of ink and the coldness of the stone, the flicker of candle and the tang of burning wax.
The mada moth found itself in a large grey room, where much of it was hidden by darkness and shadow. It buzzed around above the people’s heads, drawn by something unseen, but tantalisingly close.
Frane the Administrator, looked excitedly upon a piece of paper, “Did you read this?” he asked of his companion, Tricis, who was attempting to complete the job they had both been tasked with.
“Shh.” he managed, without looking up from the filing he was fulfilling.
“But did you?” continued Frane.
Tricis was then forced to look at his companion, which he did with much disdain, “What? We’re not supposed to read them. Just file them. Now shh.”
“But -“
Tricis reeled on his companion, “Look, you're going to get us both into trouble, if you don't shush.” Tricis then returned to his work, the moment finished.
Although it wasn’t, not for Frane at least, “You really need to read this, though.”
“Frane. Enough.” sighed Tricis.
Yet it seemed Frane did not hear his companion, “It’s about Sir Gillygate and Lady Loreena -“
“I don’t want to know! Shush!” spoke Tricis, his voice a little louder than he intended, which caused him to look about him, smiling at the one or two Administrators that looked up from their work to eye him disgustedly.
Frane continued, however, “It says she -“
“I said I didn't want to know, Frane!” Tricis was lost in the situation, with seemingly no exit evident.
“Tricis, it says -“
Then the vein on Tricis’s forehead struck out dangerously, “Shut up, Frane, for MonoGod’s sake!” he exploded upon his companion.
It was then that Frane looked strangely at his companion, as though he was causing an incident from nothing, “Alright, Tricis. No need to shout. See, Sir Gillygate -“ But Frane couldn't finish, as a commotion began behind them.
Finally, the mada moth had found nourishment, and it came from the yellowed parchment paper that sat upon a high shelf. It managed to get through a few mouthfuls of the parchment, which was likely older than perhaps the Tower itself, containing many of the old laws, and now used purely for reference, when issue came to the Administrators presence - one of the said Administrators noticed the mada moth, and this, with due diligence, became the focus of that Administrator’s attention. Through the simple act of survival, flying from the attack upon its grey mass, the mada moth took to flight, now becoming the attention of many more of the Administrators, fully aware now as they were that the enemy of their business was just such a flying creature, for it, or one just like it, had one previous day eaten through three hundred years of administrative history.
As the mada moth flew erratically about the open office, many Administrators, now joined by Attendants, thrust at the mada moth, yet it took one insightful Administrator to open the window into the darkness outside.
A sharp breeze filled the large room rapidly, but it was felt, though not spoken aloud, that it was better to be a little cold for a while than have history erased by a troublesome creature.
And, observant as it turned out to be, the steen mouse watched as the adventurous mada moth flew out of the window.
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