CHAPTER 10
When the virtuous are victorious, they heap honor
upon T'Chen surpassing a sovereign.
They shout, "Lo Heathens!
For the pious, Her rewards are manifold! This is Her glorious plan for us!" Yet when the vile prosper and the innocent
perish, they throw up their hands and murmur, "Who are we to know Her
ways?"
-Ivermik,
"In the Shadow of T'Chen"
The same tall, stoic hand servant who had
let Etyiam into Ampharix's chamber the first time was there to open the door
for her again this time. Doing so was
certainly not his regular job, but as it seemed it would be Etyiam's fate to
only visit the senator after hours, she was bound to come across the cleaning staff. After he shut the door behind her, he went
right back to his task of polishing the wooden paneled walls, without so much
as a word to her. Etyiam wondered if he
had been instructed to remain silent, or if it was just his way.
She waited in the center of the
foyer chamber for the senator's assistant to call her, watching the servant go
about his monotonous task as perfunctorily as a machine. His mechanical manners brought to Etyiam's
mind one of the legends of Garath; the jewel of the ancient, pre-fall World.
Supposedly, in that long ago time,
saurians had built mechanical robots that did all the menial jobs, such as this
poor soul did now. It was said this had
freed all saurians to become scholars instead of laborers and allowed anyone
the time and resources to expand their mind in any way they saw fit.
She wasn't supposed to look back
nostalgically on such things. The
church's line was that the decadence of the period had drawn saurians away from
the light of T'Chen and such was their downfall. What ancient philosophers once called enlightenment, modern
priests now called heresy. Whether you
wanted to accept the church's view of the past or not, there was no denying
that the ancients had utterly destroyed themselves. They had almost taken the World, and the future, with them.
This was a powerful argument in the
church's favor that the ancients hadn't gotten things quite right. To this day, the church did all it could to
prevent a repeat of those glorious antique times and the great conflagration
that ended it. Although the knowledge
to build them was again available, no robots existed anywhere in the World
today. Idle hands are the gloves of
Yeetas, advised the Scrolls.
Etyiam was thinking about asking the
servant a question, just to hear what his voice sounded like, when the far door
was flung open by the perpetually surly secretary.
"The senator will see you
now."
Ampharix was seated at her desk
working with some papers when Etyiam was led into her main chamber. A great purple curtain had been drawn
against the vast bay of windows, blocking the view of the evening
cityscape. With the slightest of bows,
the secretary shut the door, leaving them in private.
"You have something for
me." It was more of a declaration
than a question. The aged matron did
not even look up from her work. Instead
of the elaborate religious headdress the senator wore the last time Etyiam saw
her, she now wore a gold diadem on her forehead. This was the traditional, informal badge normally worn by a
senator to mark her office.
"Yes, your matronship,"
said the girl, "As per your wishes, I have secured my position as Sarwin's
assistant."
"I suspect my wishes have not
conflicted too greatly with your wishes in that regard," said the old
Priat, looking up at the young Ordinary, "Around here, we call him the
heretic."
"I understand," the
younger female replied, while producing papers and a tablet from her bag,
"I have copies of the heretic's schedule for the next few weeks. I also have the names of a number of his
contacts."
"Bring them here."
Etyiam stepped forward and placed
the items on her elder's desk. The
senator pulled them close to herself and glanced over the documents. After more than a minute of uneasy silence,
as Ampharix scrolled through the tablet, Etyiam felt the need to speak.
"I trust her matronship is
pleased?"
Ampharix switched off the tablet and
set it down. "Her matronship
is... satisfied," the old crone
answered, with a slight air of disdain.
"Can I be of further
service?" asked Etyiam, hoping for a negative answer. She didn't get one.
"Yes, you can," answered
Ampharix, "You will continue to keep me posted of any changes to his
schedule, no matter how trivial they may seem to you. I want to know the details of the heretic's movements. I want to know, in so far as possible, where
he is at all times. Am I
understood?"
"I understand," replied
Etyiam, regretfully. She had hoped this
would be a one-time job.
"Very good. Now... be off with you. I have another appointment to keep. Return when you have more information for
me." With that, Ampharix returned
to the papers she was reading when the girl had first entered.
Etyiam bowed obligatorily, "By
your leave, my matron."
On cue, as if she had been secretly
listening the whole time, the secretary opened the door. Etyiam turned and followed her out. Ampharix did not look up to watch her leave.
As she passed through the foyer
chamber on her way out, Etyiam noticed that the male hand servant was now gone,
but in his place was a Priat female, perhaps slightly older than Etyiam, who
was dressed in the lavender-lined robes of a newly ordained priest. She was as stone-faced as the much older
secretary and it appeared she was the next appointment for which the senator
waited.
Etyiam nodded respectfully at the
young priest, only to receive a poisonous scowl in return. The baleful gaze sent a cold shiver through
Etyiam and she quickened her pace to get to the exit. That glare was not merely generated by some unrelated foul mood,
or the minor offense of a direct look by an Ordinary. The young priest obviously recognized Etyiam and loathed her for
some unknown reason.
Sensing an evil portent about the
brief encounter, Etyiam quickly exited to the corridor, then hastily made her
way out of the giant building and with hurried steps passed out into the chill
air of the night-shrouded city beyond.