As I slept, I dreamt a memory from my distant childhood. I was standing in our School’s planetarium with Master Rigel. Beneath my feet was an icy glacier, lands belonging to the fourth of the ninety-five sister wives. Their husband, the eternal storm, took up much of the black sky. His colored belts swirled slowly as a red eye looked down upon us.
I reached to touch the ground and feel the cold frost on my fingers, but Master Rigel interrupted me, tapping my shoulder with his cane. “You are not wrong to try to understand the illusion, but if you do so, you shall miss the point of the lesson. Look at the stars, Sirius.”
Glancing up at the half-swallowed sky, I saw the speckling lights, but they were wrong. The constellations were all incomprehensible to me. Their once familiar patterns took on new shapes and new guises, like the night itself had decided to wear a new mask. I knew it was natural. After all, we had gone such a great distance that we stood from a new vantage point, a different place and angle.
Still, it was disconcerting.
Master Rigel paced with his cane, his usually hunched form relaxed in the lower solemnity. His boots crunched in the snow, and his mantle fluttered in the shivering wind. “Can you identify those stars? We have not gone so far that they have changed completely.”
I shook my head. “Perhaps I can with a reference.” I did not give any concrete answer because I did not want to admit any folly. Master Rigel struck me on the head with his cane, and I winced.
“By the time your education is complete, you will be able to know the stars regardless of their order or arrangement. They should be familiar to you as your own hand. But I do not reprimand you for your ignorance, only for your pride.”
“What does it matter?” I asked, angry with my pained head. “There are near infinite perspectives. Why should I be expected to memorize them all?”
Master Rigel stamped his cane in the ice. “You still miss the point. You have spent the past three years studying in our School. But how well do you know the sky, if with the slightest change of position, you no longer know it at all?”
“I should say I know nothing,” I said, hoping to avoid another strike.
“Half right again, Sirius,” Master Rigel struck me again. “Have the stars changed their substance? Does blue now burn red? Has the giant shrunk to a dwarf? Maybe with time, but not now. The stars have not changed in the slightest. It is only that you have realized how little you know of them.”
“What is the point of this lesson?” I asked, covering my head with my arms.
Master Rigel sighed. “I only wish you to understand the Truth—how you understand Truth. It is our instinct to think of knowledge as an object, to be hoarded up as a treasure. We write down a series of letters and think it describes what is real. But it is only a measurement, a negation of other facts.”
I watched as Master Rigel lifted his cane and tossed it in his hand. Slowly, it fell back into his grasp. “Do you think I understand this moon’s embrace if I measure its force? How fast it pulls us down? We can think of the solemnities as a mere measurement of speed, but that does not explain how light, a massless particle, is refracted along its curvature.”
“The attraction is but the touch of the Potentate, so all things must revolve around Him—including light.”
“True, but you again miss the Truth for the fact. Do you know what those words mean in full? I do not. I cannot tell you of the embrace of the celestial spheres anymore than I could a common tree. Yes, I can measure it. I can attach description and texture, but I cannot tell you what it is, as if I understand why it is.”
“I think I at least know what a tree is,” I spoke, annoyed at the lesson.
“Do you?” Master Rigel snorted, as if I had said the most ridiculous thing. “What do you see when you think of a tree? The trunk and its leaves? Perhaps you might also think of its ability to turn light into sustenance. But do you understand it? Mayhaps I can show you diagrams of its movements, but do you not laugh at the man who attempts to learn swimming from a book? Can you say you really understand the tree through those same charts and diagrams?”
Master Rigel held his cane under my chin, lifting it so I would look at him. “When you think of the air you breathe, do you think of the countless particles flowing into your lungs? Or do you think of the swell of your chest? Do you think of the molecule and its countless reactions? Or do you think of a long exhale? Both are true, both are measurements, but even combining these two perspectives, do you really understand what it means to breathe? And even if I should outline all these mechanics, all I would’ve done is explain the how and not the why.”
“I do not understand this lesson,” I told him plainly.
“Sirius,” Master Rigel spoke kindly. “I want you to remember again that the world is a mystery. Do not presume you know all things because we have taught you a little of how we’ve measured them. That is the sin of our age, and that is why men have lost all hope. Remember what knowledge is—only the things we know not to be true.”
Before I had a chance to respond, I awoke from the memory as if a man roused to attention. At once, I was in my bed back at Berenice’s residence. The moonlight had waned into the darkness of an early morning that had not yet seen its sunrise.
I had hoped sleep and dream would distract me from the foul mood I had fallen into, but the memory of Master Rigel only embittered my thoughts further. I longed for my childhood, back when the world seemed new and wonderful. I had spent many hours in that planetarium, obsessing over exotic vistas and wandering a thousand strange lands. It seemed then that I could’ve gone anywhere, but I knew now that boy’s path would take him only into darkness.
Dressing hurriedly, I firmly recalled the resolved purpose I made from the day before. I buckled my sword and flung my blue mantle over my shoulders. As I pulled taut my gloves, I creaked the door to my room open, checking the hallway before I stepped out. My footsteps were as quick and quiet as the flight of a nocturne bird.
I fled from that house, and I was nearly out of the forum and onto the street before I saw one of the dimly-lit statues turn and block my path to the exit.
“Charon,” I said , annoyed that I had not escaped his notice.
“You are leaving so quickly? Without a word to Berenice?” The mask of the elderly man looked concerned.
“I left her a letter explaining my reasoning,” I replied curtly. “It should suffice.”
Charon crooked his head doubtfully, but he did not try to argue. Instead, he stepped aside, quietly letting me pass.
I was glad there was no need for confrontation. With great gratitude, I acknowledged the mannequin as I went for the door, but I paused just as I grasped the handle. “Charon, you told me before and after our fight, ‘Do not be afraid. For good fortune does not exist.’ I have long pondered on that. What did you mean?”
The mannequin coughed, as if he was surprised by my question. “I apologize, I thought you as an Astronomer would’ve known. I only meant that the balance of events is not determined by chance, but by the hand of the Potentate. Did you really not know?”
“I suspected it,” I murmured, disappointed. “I suppose I had just hoped for a better answer.”
Charon’s hand fell on my shoulder before I could open the door and leave. “What troubles you, Sirius?”
For a time I was still. It was never an easy thing to admit my darker thoughts. I am the kind of man who broods on his troubles alone, and I rarely invite others to see the deepest contents of my heart. Even as I write this now, knowing what I do, it is still difficult to admit my own stumbling. Looking back, every man wishes he had been more resolute.
I did not turn around to face the mannequin. But though I hesitated, I decided to speak my mind anyway. “I am tired, Charon. I am tired of my oaths, of saying goodbyes and forswearing any good that comes into my life.”
“You mean Berenice?”
“I mean everything. At the moment of the trial, I felt Berenice was a miracle. I thought for a moment that I saw the hand of the Potentate. But now just a day after, that miracle has faded to ash in my mouth. What was it all for? Intervention so that I might be saved then, only so I can die out there? On either side of the Border Wall, I have nothing. Behind me is a thousand regrets, and ahead is my death.”
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The mannequin did not reply for a time, though his hand remained firmly on my shoulder, preventing my passing until he had decided what to say. “It is one of the strange temptations of mortals,” Charon began, “to see a miracle one day and curse the heavens the next. You are not the first. But take heed, Sirius. Men see the worst in uncertainty because they cannot bear the thought of a good end, for then they would have no reason to moan and grit their teeth. Of the burdens you will carry out there, the hardest might be the thought that your journey will end well.”
I chuckled at that, though what he said was indisputably true. “Thank you, Charon. And goodbye.”
Slipping out the door, I left the house of Messalina and Berenice for the final time.
…
I held the vial in my fingers and shook the red liquid inside. Less than half of the Bene Tincture remained. There was enough for one, perhaps two doses. And then there would be no more room for mistakes. Looking up, I saw the sun had climbed the first steps of its ascent, bathing the world in an orange glow.
I stood upon the lower ramparts of the Border Wall, patiently waiting for my ice skimmer as it was being prepared for its long journey. A dozen men worked the craft, outfitting it with everything I would need to cross the Great Ice Plain.
There were many great terraces and wharfs and piers built out from the titanic metal edifice, most of which were later additions to later additions—built after the fact. Of the twisting and ruined foundations, half the time I was treading over rubble as I did great structures of old. The harbor had been built, fallen into disrepair, and built again. There was no rhyme or reason anymore. The towering stairways built by the ancients were as in equal use as the rope ladders thrown over collapsed ruin. Cranes and other such equipment were scattered haphazardly across the harbor, and glancing up, I saw they made a jagged ascent up and over into Terminus.
But of this immense harbor, only a small section of it was still in use. The great ships languished at their mores, rotting carcasses of vessels. Only the ice skimmers, the smallest of craft, still launched out onto the Great Ice Plain. And in total, I would say only a few hundred ice skimmers made port here, in this harbor designed for giants. We were ants, crawling over the works of greater men.
As I shivered in the wind, again I felt a twinge of paranoia. I checked my belongings once more. Ever since Messalina had stolen my manuscript, I found myself often taking such unnecessary precautions.
I still had the gift from the strange Glassmaker. The four mirrored marbles were tucked safely away in a small pouch I had purchased for them. In my satchel, I also possessed my golden astrolabe, which I used for navigation. On my cloak I had fastened the pin of the silver fish I had purchased when I first arrived in this city. Whether the trinket would come into use, I did not know. I only hoped I would not need it. I had my chipped and battered sword, which I would’ve replaced had I the coin to do so. I had thought about relying upon Berenice’s generosity again, but it seemed inappropriate for all I had already spent from her.
And of course, I had the Historiae Astrologus, secured in a bundle of cloth. Penned by Master Gnomon, the tome was the last of an art that had long since been dismissed as impractical and vain. But when I looked upon its immaculate script, I saw no conceit that blemished its pages. Only a fool decries every work of beauty vain, as if he would prefer to live in an ugly world. No, beauty ought to be pursued because it is beautiful, and it is only when turned to praise of oneself that it becomes destitute.
Hearing footsteps on the stonework, I looked up, and I saw Gereon approaching. He had been inspecting the ice skimmer, making sure that the city had not been too frugal with the supplies and equipment they provided me. I was grateful for his help, and I was sad it was finally time for us to part ways.
“The ice skimmer isn’t the best, but it’ll get you across all right,” Gereon told me with a begrudging nod. “They’re loading up your spear drill now. Normally, you would want two people to operate, but it can be done by one.”
“Thank you for your help, Gereon. I mean that.” I shook his hand. The time of parting always hurts, but even especially more, since I knew I would never see him again.
Gereon saw the unasked question in my eyes, and he sighed. We hadn’t had the chance to talk of his “death”.
“I did not lie about my identity. I am the man they spoke of who was betrayed by his men.”
“Then?” I asked, trying to understand.
Gereon shook his head. “I am sorry to say I don’t have the answers for you, Sirius. All I know is that I awoke, and when I went outside, I saw two sets of footprints that were neither my own. I did not disclose that information to you because I myself do not know what to make of it. I only revealed it to the court because I was pressed on it, and I thought they would not so easily deny me as Elagabalus would’ve.”
That was unsettling information, but I did not know what I could do with it.
The soldier clapped me on the arm. “Strange portents follow in your wake, Sirius. May the Potentate look kindly upon you.”
We began walking towards the ice skimmer, nested in the not too busy port. My blue cloak billowed in the frigid wind as we walked down the steps to the small mooring below.
“Some last pieces of advice,” Gereon said. “There are tribesmen who live out on the Great Ice Plain. Keep your possessions close and always camouflauge the ice skimmer come nightfall. You do not want to fall prey to a band of robbers. Secondly, do not delve too deeply into the ice. There are a great many things and creatures buried deep, and they are best left undisturbed. Thirdly, should you find the body of a man who has committed suicide, burn it. Make sure it is destroyed utterly. And failing that, flee as fast as you can.”
I paused in my step. “Why?”
“Nothing attracts the Ghost Men more quickly than such a corpse. It is from those bodies that they fashion more of their kind. Do not ask me why or how. No one knows the secrets of their blasphemies.”
I nodded as we stepped down onto the wharf. It was the lowest and humblest of piers, little more than a stack of stone on the charnel ice. A small plank provided passage onto the ice skimmer. For my vessel, there were no great machines of industry. Those were long rusting in their bitter emplacements. All I had were very simple men on a simple dock loading a frightfully tiny ship compared to the heaps of iron that lay battered across the distance.
Instead of boarding, I crouched over the edge and jumped down onto the ice. My boots crunched on this new surface, and I walked out a distance, gazing at this new land before me. Here, I had at last crossed the line of separation, from the last bastion of humanity and into something more foreign. The Great Ice Plain was not merely wilderness. It was the absence of life, a desert of a different kind. Here was a new world and with it came new challenges.
I tugged on my right-hand glove, pulling it off. Pressing my palm into the ice, I closed my fist around a ball of snow and frost. I waited for this thing, this great landscape, to become knowable. If only I could climb a tall peak and survey all that was before me. But even atop the Border Wall, the Great Ice Plain extended beyond sight, beyond knowing. This was not a place for a man to conquer. It was a place for a man to be devoured, lost amongst the endless ice.
Here was an ocean, frozen in time. The flat, rolling landscape seemed to depart into infinity, trapped in its own deathless beauty. And yet, I knew this world had its end, despite what my eyes told me. It ended in Myz, the lost land, the barren land. There, the ice gave way to great mountains, and beyond lay a world older than despair.
There lay domed Calrathia, in its endless majesty. There lay things older than mankind. There lay horrors beyond reckoning. I stood up and felt the moment, wondering just where my path would end in this endless of winters. There was no telling, and there was no point in telling. The future would be disclosed in its proper course. All I could do was see it through.
I turned to my vessel, inspecting my newest companion. The ice skimmer was shaped much like the sailboats that darted across the oceans of Zodiak. A tall mast was raised into the sky, and a great sail flapped loosely in the wind. Its thin metal hull was smooth to the touch. The practicality was an artistry all of its own. As much was done to reduce weight as possible, for the secret of the craft were two rods fastened on either side. They were forged of an alloy lighter than air, and they held the vessel aloft so as to buoy and glide across the ice.
The ship was big enough to comfortably seat at least five people, as well as all the provisions one would need for such a group. With just myself, it was more than adequate. It was a positive luxury compared to walking on foot, and I wished I had this vessel when I first set out for Terminus all those weeks ago. However, this craft was not suited for rocky or rough terrain. Once I reached Myz, I would need to abandon it to cross the mountains. The hardest part of the journey would have to be taken the same as the first.
As I was inspecting the vessel, I noticed Gereon glancing around. He kept looking back at the wall, expecting someone.
“I did not tell Berenice I was leaving this early. She is probably still asleep.” I informed him.
Gereon crossed his arms. “That may be for the best. I know the woman would struggle with scaling the Border Wall. But did you say goodbye to her at least? I know she is fond of you.”
“No,” I said, hopping back on the pier. “I do not want a painful parting, and I would prefer for her to forget me. We both know I am going out there to die, Gereon. I did not want to add to her heartbreaks.”
The soldier shrugged. “A cold end but that is not unusual in these lands. I do not begrudge you wishing to spare her. I probably would’ve done the same in your place.”
“It is ready.” One of the boatmen suddenly came forward, interrupting us. The rest were lounging around now, waiting for me to depart.
“And another end comes sooner than I thought.” I reached out and extended a hand to Gereon. We shook.
“Thank you for everything,” I told him.
“It has been my honor.” Gereon smiled.
I stepped away from my only friend in the world and went with the boatsmen. Before boarding, I nodded, looking over the vessel one final time. While I was no master of sail, gauging from the mechanisms, I knew I could handle well enough. It was not a complicated ship, and I did have some experience with the similar craft in Zodiak.
I walked aboard and pulled up the plank. The ship bobbed and swayed under my feet like it was in water. Taking a moment to gain balance, I then cut the rope tying the ice skimmer to the pier. I went over to sit near the rudder. I pulled the mainsail tight, and the canvas caught the wind. The ice skimmer began to draw out of the pier, faster than I liked, but I was still getting used to this vessel.
Turning back to the Border Wall, I didn’t know what I was expecting. Perhaps more fanfare? I always thought some of the nobility might see me off. But there was no one. Save for the dozen or so laborers and Gereon, no one took an interest in this last of pilgrimages. It was a heartrending thing, to see the death of tradition.
But as my skimmer picked up speed, I noticed one other, a person who was frantically running down the ruined harbor towards where my ship had been docked. Squinting my eyes, I could barely make out the silhouette, but I saw this person was wearing silver furs and carrying a large great sword on her shoulder.
I turned away. I was now hurtling further and further out onto the expanse. Sharp, biting wind stung at my face, and I buried myself in my cloak. I looked towards the horizon, its vast stretch extending beyond what I thought possible.
And I spurred the ship faster.