the weakness of an old man, but then again it may be something else.’
I didn’t speak. By then I could hardly believe what I was hearing.
‘So I will take the seat on the Council,’ he said. ‘I will listen to what they have to say. And when it has been considered, I will cast my vote. Consider your task accomplished – for now.’
I felt a surge of joy well up within me. All we had worked for, week after week of dangerous toil, had paid off, at least for now.
I could have no certainty that it would go as intended, but I had the ineffable sense, just as before, of rightness. For the first time in my long career, perhaps ever, I was doing something that I truly believed in.
‘I will ensure all is made ready, lord,’ I said, slipping back into my well-trod role as factotum to the powerful.
By then he was already reaching for his helm. His scarred face disappeared behind the mask of gold, ending the brief sense that I had been talking to something more human than demigod.
‘Then we will speak again,’ said the Captain-General, taking his spear up as if ready to use it. ‘And let us hope your vision does not lead us awry.’
Valerian
I felt many things, after that day.
Shame, of course. Even some degree of anger, but mostly confusion. Heracleon was not given to flights of fancy. Even if I had not been present in his visions as he believed, I should still have been able to cross the threshold. I was one of the Ten Thousand – that place was my spiritual home, and all of us, to one degree or another, belonged there in the end.
After leaving the catacombs I returned to my duties. I participated in the Blood Games. I resumed my meditations. I attended the rites of armour, blade and shield. I completed my study of the philosophy of Ustiandes of Thar, and consigned my monograph to be stored in the archives.
And yet the episode nagged at me. My sleep was disturbed. Every time I blinked, it seemed, I would see those metaphysical chambers again, the great iron vanes, the ancient flesh clinging to the bones of older machines. I felt that my inability to enter must reflect some lack within me. In some way, as yet undetected and undefined, I must have failed.
The most immediate consequence of the episode was that I did not even begin preparation for induction into the Hataeron Guard. Heracleon visited me once several days had passed and held open the possibility of reconsideration. He told me the fault may have been his, for misinterpreting the symbols. I appreciated that, but did not believe him. In any event, we agreed that for the time being my duty should remain as it had been – in the Outer Palace, as one of the many thousands who guarded the walls against the external enemy.
Navradaran, too, visited me before his labours took him away again. I was honoured to have had his friendship at that time. Perhaps, looking at us from the outside, you will think our lives somewhat cold and unrelenting, but they are not devoid of the greater human characteristics, and even some of the baser. There were those of my brothers whom I disliked, and those whose fellowship I cherished. Navradaran was one of the latter.
I was in the Library of Ancients when he found me. I had been so engrossed in the tome before me that I only heard his distinctive approach from thirty metres away, far less than was required by standard battle-readiness.
He saw what I was reading, raised an eyebrow, then sat opposite me. All around us, the vast library continued in its ancient rhythms – the shuffle of robes, the tick of iron-tipped fingers, the echoing thud of volumes being replaced on the high shelves.
‘The Master of Mankind,’ Navradaran read, softly. ‘Diocletian Exemplar. You must have read it many times.’
‘Just once. A long time ago.’
‘Does it give you answers?’
I slowly turned the great pages, each one a single sheet of thick vellum inscribed in faded inks. This was a copy of a copy of a copy, yet still more than five thousand years old.
‘It tells me that our service was not always like this,’ I said. ‘We were not always fighting with silence.’
Navradaran nodded. ‘And yet, even then, there was error.’
‘With greater excuse.’
‘Was there?’ He smiled faintly. He was older than I was, and had the scars to show it.