In the Bartizan of the Vincula
“You have company, Lictor,” the sentry told me, and when I only nodded to acknowledge the information, he added, “It might be best for you to change first, Lictor.” I did not need then to ask who my guest was; only the presence of the archon would have drawn that tone from him.
It was not difficult to reach my private quarters without passing through the study where I conducted the business of the Vincula and kept its accounts. I spent the time it took to divest myself of my borrowed jelab and put on my fuligin cloak in speculating as to why the archon, who had never come to me before, and whom, for that matter, I had seldom even seen outside his court, should find it necessary to visit the Vinculaâso far as I could see, without an entourage.
The speculation was welcome because it kept certain other thoughts at a distance. There was a large silvered glass in our bedroom, a much more effective mirror than the small plates of polished metal to which I was accustomed; and on it, as I saw for the first time when I stood before it to examine my appearance, Dorcas had scrawled in soap four lines from a song she had once sung for me:
Horns of Urth, you fling notes to the sky,
Green and good, green and good.
Sing at my step; a sweeter glade have I.
Lift, oh, lift me to the fallen wood!
There were several large chairs in the study, and I had anticipated finding the archon in one of them (though it had also crossed my mind that he might be availing himself of the opportunity to go through my papersâsomething he had every right to do if he chose). He was standing at the embrasure instead, looking out over his city much as I myself had looked out at it from the ramparts of Acies Castle earlier that afternoon. His hands were clasped behind him, and as I watched I saw them move as if each
possessed a life of its own, engendered by his thoughts. It was some time before he turned and caught sight of me.
“You are here, Master Torturer. I did not hear you come in.”
“I am only a journeyman, Archon.”
He smiled and seated himself on the sill, his back to the drop. His face was coarse, with a hook nose and large eyes rimmed with dark flesh, but it was not a masculine face; it might almost have been the face of an ugly woman. “Charged by me with the responsibility for this place, you remain a mere journeyman?”
“I can be elevated only by the masters of our guild, Archon.”
“But you are the best of their journeymen, judging from the letter you carried, from their choosing you to send here, and from the work you've done since you arrived. Anyway, no one here would know the difference if you chose to put on airs. How many masters are there?”
“I would know, Archon. Only two, unless someone has been elevated since I've been gone.”
“I'll write them and ask them to elevate you
in absentia.”
“I thank you, Archon.”
“It's nothing,” he said, and turned to stare out the embrasure as though the situation embarrassed him. “You should have word of it, I suppose, in a month.”
“They will not elevate me, Archon. But it will make Master Palaemon happy to hear you think so well of me.”
He swung around again to look at me. “We need not be so formal, surely. My name is Abdiesus, and there is no reason you should not use it when we're alone. You're Scvcrian, I believe?”
I nodded.
He turned away again. “This is a very low opening. I was examining it before you came in, and the wall hardly reaches above my knees. It would be easy, I'm afraid, for someone to fall out of it.”
“Only for someone as tall as yourself, Abdiesus.”
“In the past, were not executions performed, occasionally, by casting the victim from a high window or from the edge of a precipice?”
“Yes, both those methods have been employed.”
“Not by you, I suppose.” Once more he faced me.
“Not within living memory, so far as I know, Abdiesus. I have performed decollationsâboth with the block and with the chairâbut that is all.”
“But you would have no objection to the use of other means? If you were instructed to employ them?”
“I am here to carry out the archon's sentences.”
“There are times, Severian, when public executions serve the public good. There are others when they would only do harm by inciting public unrest.”
“That is understood, Abdiesus,” I said. As sometimes I have seen in the eyes of a boy the worry of the man he will be, I could see the future guilt that
had already come (perhaps without his being aware of it) to settle on the archon's face.
“There will be a few guests at the palace tonight. I hope that you will be among them, Severian.”
I bowed. “Among the divisions of administration, Abdiesus, it has long been customary to exclude oneâmy ownâfrom the society of the others.”
“And you feel that is unjust, which is wholly natural. Tonight, if you wish to think of it in that way, we will be making some restitution.”
“We of the guild have never complained of injustice. Indeed, we have gloried in our unique isolation. Tonight, however, the others may feel they have reason to protest to you.”
A smile twitched at his mouth. “I'm not concerned about that. Here, this will get you onto the grounds.” He extended his hand, holding delicately, as though he feared it would flutter from his fingers, one of those disks of stiff paper, no bigger than a chrisos and lettered in gold leaf with ornate characters, of which I had often heard Thecla speak (she stirred in my mind at the touch of it), but which I had never before seen.
“Thank you, Archon. Tonight, you said? I will try to find suitable clothing.”
“Come dressed as you are. It's to be a ridottoâyour habit will be your costume.” He stood and stretched himself with the air, I thought, of one who nears the completion of a long and disagreeable task. “A moment ago we spoke of some of the less elaborate ways that you might perform your function. It might be well for you to bring whatever equipment you will require tonight.”
I understood. I would need nothing beyond my hands, and told him so; then, feeling I had already been remiss in my duties as his host, I invited him to take what refreshment we had.
“No,” he said. “If you knew how much I am forced to eat and drink for courtesy's sake, you'd know how much I relish the company of someone whose hospitable offers I can refuse. I don't suppose your fraternity has ever considered using food as a torment, instead of starvation?”
“It is called planteration, Archon.”
“You must tell me about it sometime. I can see your guild is far ahead of my imaginationâno doubt by a dozen centuries. After hunting, yours must be the oldest science of them all. But I cannot stay longer. We will see you at evening?”
“It is nearly evening now, Archon.”
“At the end of the next watch then.”
He went out; it was not until the door closed behind him that I detected the faint odor of the musk that had perfumed his robe.
I looked at the little circle of paper I held, turning it over in my hand. Pictured on the back were a falsity of masks, in which I recognized one of the horrorsâa face that was no more than a mouth ringed with fangsâI had seen in the Autarch's garden when the cacogens tore away their disguises, and a man-ape's face from the abandoned mine near Saltus.
I was tired from my long walk as well as from the work (almost a full day's, for I had risen early) that had preceded it; and so before going out again I undressed and washed myself, ate some fruit and cold meat, and sipped a glass of the spicy northern tea. When a problem troubles me deeply, it remains in my mind even when I am unaware of it. So it was with me then; though I was not conscious of them, the thought of Dorcas lying in her narrow, slant-ceilinged room in the inn and the memory of the dying girl on her straw bound my eyes and stopped my ears. It was because of them, I think, that I did not hear my sergeant, and did not know, until he entered, that I had been taking up kindling from its box beside the fireplace and breaking the sticks with my hands. He asked if I were going out again, and since he was responsible for the operation of the Vincula in my absence I told him I was, and that I could not say when I would return. Then I thanked him for the loan of his jelab, which I said I would not need again.
“You are welcome to it anytime, Lictor. But that was not what concerned me. I wanted to suggest that you take a couple of our clavigers when you go down to the city.”
“Thank you,” I said. “But it is well policed, and I will be in no danger.”
He cleared his throat. “It's a matter of the prestige of the Vincula, Lictor. As our commander, you should have an escort.”
I could see he was lying, but I could also see that he was lying for what he believed to be my good, and so I said, “I will consider it, assuming you have two presentable men you can spare.”
He brightened at once.
“However,” I continued, “I don't want them to carry weapons. I'm going to the palace, and it would be insulting to our master the archon if I were to arrive with an armed guard.”
At that he began to stammer, and I turned on him as though I were furious, throwing down the splintered wood so that it crashed against the floor. “Out with it! You think I am threatened. What is it?”
“Nothing, Lictor. Nothing that concerns you, particularly. It is just ⦔
“Just what?” Knowing he was going to speak now, I went to the sideboard and poured us two cups of rosolio.
“There have been several murders in the city, Lictor. Three last night, two the night before. Thank you, Lictor. To your health.”
“To yours. But murders are nothing unusual, are they? The eclectics are forever stabbing one another.”
“These men were burned to death, Lictor. I really don't know much about itâno one seems to. Possibly you know more yourself.” The sergeant's face was as expressionless as a carving of coarse, brown stone; but I saw him look quickly at the cold fireplace as he spoke, and I knew he attributed my breaking of the sticks (the sticks that had been so hard and dry in my hands but that I had not felt there until long after he entered, just as Abdiesus had not, perhaps, realized he was contemplating his own death until long after I had come to watch him) to something, some dark secret,
the archon had imparted to me, when in fact it was nothing more than the memory of Dorcas and her despair, and of the beggar girl, whom I confused with her. He said, “I have two good fellows waiting outside, Lictor. They're ready to go whenever you are, and they will wait for you until you're ready to come back.”
I told him that was very good, and he turned away at once so I would not guess he knew, or believed he knew, more than he had reported to me; but his stiff shoulders and corded neck, and the quick steps he took toward the door, conveyed more information than his stony eyes ever could.
Â
My escorts were beefy men chosen for their strength. Flourishing their big, iron claves, they accompanied me as I shouldered
Terminus Est
down the winding streets, walking to either side when the way was wide enough, before and behind me when it was not. At the edge of the Acis I dismissed them, making them the more eager to leave me by telling them they had my permission to spend the remainder of the evening as they saw fit, and hired a narrow little caique (with a gaily painted canopy I had no need of now that the day's last watch was over) to carry me upriver to the palace.
It was the first time I had actually ridden on the Acis. As I sat in the stern, between the steersman-owner and his four oarsmen, with the clear, icy river rushing by so near that I could have trailed both hands in it if I wished, it seemed impossible that this frail wooden shell, which from the embrasure of our bartizan must have appeared no more than a dancing insect, could hope to gain a span against the current. Then the steersman spoke and we were offâhugging the bank to be sure, but seeming almost to skip over the river like a thrown stone, so rapid and perfectly timed were the strokes of our eight oars and so light and narrow and smooth were we, traveling more in the air above the water than in the water itself. A pentagonal lantern set with panes of amethyst glass hung from the sternpost; just at the moment when I, in my ignorance, thought we were at the point of being caught amidships by the current, capsized, and swept sinking down to the Capulus, the steersman let the tiller hang by its lashings while he lit the wick.
He was right, of course, and I wrong. As the little door of the lantern shut upon the butter-yellow flame within and the violet beams leaped forth, an eddy caught us, spun us about, whirled us upstream a hundred strides or more while the rowers shipped their oars, and left us in a miniature bay as quiet as a millpond and half-filled with gaudy pleasure boats. Water stairs, very similar to the steps from which I had swum in Gyoll as a boy though much cleaner, marched out of the depths of the river and up to the brilliant torches and elaborate gates of the palace grounds.