“Bring in the miscreant,” came the reply.
I did not know what a miscreant might be, but I realised when another usher brought in my attacker. The arcadian turned to me, to say, “Why are you here, Ügliy?”
I stood up. “That man attacked me. I’m not a nogoth, I’m a pre-citidenizen, and I don’t think it should be allowed for men to be beaten. I don’t think there was a reason for it.”
The arcadian said nothing. My gaze never faltered.
“Ask him,” I insisted, pointing out my attacker.
Still nothing.
I wondered if I should now make my case. If this was the second part of my test I had to ensure that the people watching knew how I felt, what I thought, so there could be no doubt that I had grasped the essentials. In a clear voice I said, “It’s unjust for a pre-citidenizen...” I faltered. That was not definite enough. “It’s unjust for a citidenizen to be attacked by a drunkard and for that drunkard to escape his deed. There should be consequences. I realised that in the tavern. I’ve assembled everybody who saw what happened to me. I want this man to be recognised as my attacker, and I want you to know that I’m not happy with what happened. I know it was wrong.” I paused, glanced around the chamber, then added, “Something’s got to be done.”
I sat down. With a sigh, Karanlik hugged me.
The arcadian looked at the usher, then raised one eyebrow. The usher stood, to point out various people and say, “Arcadian—these are the witnesses.”
One by one everybody who had seen the attack told the arcadian what they knew, so that by the time the fifth witness was preparing to stand the arcadian waved his hand and said, “Enough witnesses, we take the point.”
The usher said, “There are no witnesses for the accused and he has nothing to say.”
The arcadian nodded. “This is what I think,” he said, gesturing at the attacker as if waving away a bad smell. “You assaulted Ügliy without any reason at all. All these witnesses saw what you did, so there can be no doubt that it happened. You are guilty of the attack. Do you understand?”
There was a shrug in reply.
The arcadian turned to me. “You were right to bring this case to my attention,” he said. “Well, then. Either we kill him or you do. You have the choice.”
I stared. I heard myself say, “What?”
“In the Mavrosopolis the penalty for an unprovoked assault is death. We offer you the choice. If you are delicate, we will kill him, if not, you can do it.”
Karanlik leaped to her feet. “No! That can’t be right.”
My thoughts were spinning. I knew now that I must be undergoing the second part of my test, but I knew nothing of its form, of when it had begun or when it might end. I felt as if the world was falling away from me. I reeled. I wanted nothing to do with penalties of death. But, as panic departed, reason returned. There was an imbalance between the assault and the penalty that, deep down, I knew must be false.
“Wait!” I cried. “That is all wrong. An assault does not mean a killing.” I looked to the floor, composed myself, then said, “I refuse both options.”
The arcadian’s eyes narrowed. “You do?”
I stood firm. “I do.”
The arcadian nodded. “You think mercy is a good quality, then?”
“I do. Only a nogoth would kill in revenge.”
“And you are not a nogoth?”
“I’m becoming a citidenizen.”
Silence fell across the chamber. The arcadian’s face was grim when he said, “I do not think you can claim that.”
I replied, “I will complete the test.”
Karanlik stood up, and as if to emphasize her support for me she took my hand in her own.
The arcadian said, “What then should we do with your attacker?”
I faced the sullen man. I said, “You were wrong to attack me, but as long as you realise that all this is the consequence of your violence there’s nothing more to say. I don’t think killing you—if that is an option—or even punishing you is right. I think you should go away and consider what you did to me.” I shrugged, turned to the arcadian, then said, “I’d let him go.”
The arcadian dismissed everybody in the court, then took me into a separate room. Karanlik followed a few paces behind. The arcadian told me, “You are correct to think that you are taking the second part of your test. The man who attacked you was a citidenizen entrusted with the task of assaulting you, and the case you brought was the test itself. Had you reverted to nogoth mores, or ignored the option of bringing your grievance, you would have failed. But the Mavrosopolis protects those who serve it. You understand that?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“However, I think letting the man off was a mistake, though, of course, killing him was never a possibility. Consider this, Ügliy. What if other, more complex mischiefs were also brushed aside? Then the concept of consequence that you relied upon would be negated in the minds of the miscreants.”
I thought for a few moments before replying, “If the citidenizenry is what I believe it to be, then the miscreants themselves will stop their mischief, if only because they wouldn’t want to ruin something so special.”
The arcadian said nothing. Judging by his expression he was surprised, even astonished by what I had said. I waited in silence.
Then the arcadian roused himself, fumbling in his pocket to retrieve a silver trinket, which he handed to me. “You have passed the second part of the test,” he said. He stood up. “You are an interesting man, Ügliy, and I for one regret that you cannot be a citidenizen.”
My reply was fierce, fired by defiance and delight. “I will!”
The arcadian turned to walk away. “When you are ready, you two are free to find your own way out of the Forum.”
For a few minutes we sat still and silent, while I contemplated the insistence of authority that I was bound to fail the test. Karanlik looked at me without flinching, admiration in her eyes. At last I roused myself to say, “Perhaps there is something in what Atavalens said.”
“Atavalens?”
“I won’t succeed because I’m a cripple.”
Karanlik rested her head on my shoulder. “You’re not a cripple to me,” she said.
I was unsure what she meant, and my mood, which had plunged from elation to gloom, did not impel me to enquire further. I took the first ring fragment and fitted its hooks into the receptacles of the new piece, to create an arc of silver. I stared at it, then crushed it in my fist.
“No,” Karanlik insisted, “there has to be more to this baiting. They’re just testing you, finding out where your limits are.”
I shook my head. “I should feel joy that I’m half way through the test, but I don’t.” There were tears in my eyes as I raised my gaze to the ceiling.
“I’m thinking back to the hundreds of times I watched citidenizens walking past me in Blackguards’ Passage. Not one of them was crippled, they all had eyes to see, they all had two arms, ten fingers. I am imperfect.”
“I don’t believe you mean that.”
I glanced at her. “You really think they are testing me?”
“I do.”
Though I still felt disillusioned I attempted a smile then stood up, clacking my crutch upon the floor. “There’s no getting around this,” I remarked, indicating my withered leg.
Karanlik led me out. The corridor before us led down to the entrance hall, and I followed her along it. I felt that there were now two distinct paths before me: to justice with Karanlik at my side, to unknown pleasures with Raknia. At that moment I wanted to walk both paths.
There came a sudden hiss behind me, then a blow to the back of my head. I cried out, turned on my crutch, saw a figure walk by.
It was the tavern attacker. He said, “That’s what happens when there’s no witnesses, you cripple.”
I stood shocked. I did not reply. Karanlik watched the man walk by, then turned towards me, a look of enquiry on her face. “What did he say?”
/> I rubbed the back of my head.
Karanlik ran forward and said, “What happened?”
I watched the receding figure. Unbidden, the words that I had spoken to the arcadian returned to my mind: if the citidenizenry is what I believe it to be, then the miscreants themselves will stop their mischief.
“Ügliy, what happened?” Karanlik asked again, taking my hand in hers.
“Nothing,” I replied. “Nothing happened.”
“What did that man say to you?”
“Nothing.”
Karanlik shook her head. “I heard him muttering.”
I began walking again, clutching her hand in mine, both for comfort and to break the moment. “He said nothing that we need to worry about.”
That was true, and yet false also. The second part of the test was over, the silver fragment proof of that, but the citidenizenry had been shown up as rather less than what I believed it to be. The dilemma of my test lay stark before me: accept imperfection with community after my ascent from nogoth poverty, or live on the sidelines with people like Raknia. There was no third option.
11.6.583
Part two of the citidenizen test is complete.
It was laughably simple. With my charming cimmerian assistant I overcame the slight hurdle that it represented, to acquire my second silver quarter.
Oh that the second half will be so simple.
Of course it will not be. I hope for naivete in higher stations, but something in the citidenizen masters is cold and brutal. I loathe them. They are but white maggots in a black, black heart. They will turn into smelly old flies, not fine old people.
It infuriates me that I know all this before I have even lived one day as a citidenizen. Is this part of the test? Is the implication that there is no hope part of the process of wearing me down—eroding me!—or do they wish to inform me of the true nature of the citidenizenry? I do not know and I wish that I did.
The second quarter of the citidenizen test related to the concept of law. Nogoth mores are the mores of the gutter—revenge, tough leaders, violence and trickery in equal proportions—but citidenizen mores are finer, working on the principle of justice. I was slighted and I had to take my case to the Forum of Arcadius. In this way I was taught the notion of correct behaviour and correct response. It was not a difficult lesson, but again it brought home the bureaucratic nature of the judicial system, with all its officers and papers and interminable waits, and its twisting corridors. I do not like what I see. It ought to be changed. How come nobody has done it already? Two answers await this question: one, that nobody has thought of such change, which is a palpable absurdity, two, that such change is impossible, which, though absurd, is nonetheless worryingly plausible. I will go with the first answer, since the second is too awful to contemplate.
I, then, am the first person to consider change in the Mavrosopolis. Ridiculous! This means that the doctrine of erasure is anathema to me. I must hold this thought deep and secret in my mind, for if any citidenizen came to know it I would be returned to the gutter.
I am glad that I have no talent for sorcery, since sorcery is the most conservative of the arts. I have heard it said that spells spoken by sorcerers today were phrased in exactly the same words five centuries ago. I have heard that, despite the forward roll of the years and the subtle changes in society, the words, the language, even the intonation of spell casting has not altered. I wonder, is this is the source of the concept of anti-erasure? They are surely linked, even if they are not actually, materially and philosophically related.
Are we, in fact and in ethical persuasion, merely mimicking the extraordinary conservatism of sorcery? Is inhumanity the price we pay for the existence of spells?
Chapter 7
When I was summoned to appear at the Forum of Tauri I had no idea what the reason might be, though I guessed it was related to my test. The Forum was a vast structure whose frontage occupied one side of Yeniceriler Street, a series of steps leading up to pillared walkways, that gave way to doors made of steel and silver. It was one of the most imposing buildings in the Mavrosopolis.
I presented myself at a reception booth inside, then found the room to which I had been summoned, where I was surprised to find a court not unlike that which had heard my earlier grievance. Karanlik was present, but she had been placed in the accused dock. There was a black-handkerchiefed official sitting in a high chair.
An usher spoke. “Taurian, we gather here to discuss the grievance of a victualler working in premises off Sehzadebazi Street.”
The taurian nodded in reply.
I wanted to query my presence and the position of Karanlik, but I had no chance. The usher continued, “This victualler,” and here he indicated a thin, grey-haired man sitting with a sour face at the side of the room, “accuses the cimmerian of theft, as witnessed by various people in his premises at the time.”
I stared at Karanlik. She shook her head, denying the charge. But there was desperation in her eyes. I looked away, realising that she must be innocent, yet also aware of the process to come. I was afraid of that word ‘witness’. I sank into my seat, as if to hide.
“Bring forward the witnesses,” said the taurian.
There followed the testimonies of three people, the victualler himself and two customers, all of whom saw Karanlik take bread and olives from the baskets. I disbelieved every word, yet when the statements were made I knew they must be true. And Karanlik was a nogoth, not subject to the mores of the citidenizenry, though she seemed honest and true. I felt hopelessness falling over me. I did not want to lose so brave a companion.
The taurian turned to me. “Does the owner have anything to say?”
I sat upright. “Owner?”
The taurian indicated Karanlik. “The cimmerian. She’s yours, isn’t she?”
“I suppose—”
“She is your assistant during your test?”
I nodded.
“Then she’s yours. What do you have to say?”
But I could think of nothing to say.
The taurian turned to Karanlik. “And you?”
“I didn’t do it. I don’t understand what’s going on. I shouldn’t be here.”
The taurian sat upright in his chair to deliver his verdict. “Karanlik, you are banished from the Mavrosopolis. If you’re caught here again you’ll be imprisoned. We don’t allow cimmerian rubbish on our streets. You thought you could get away with theft. Perhaps that’s how it’s done in the slum you live in, but here you cannot act like that. Now sit down and be quiet.”
The taurian turned to face me. I sat in shock, awaiting more.
“As for you,” he said, “you have a simple decision to make. You must reject this cimmerian whelp. I mean forever and in all circumstances. She is not to be trusted. Moreover, if you cannot or will not reject her you will fail your test. If you are to be a citidenizen you must renounce all aspects of nogoth life—their mores, if mores is the correct word, their society, their companionship. Their lives as a whole. There can be no mixing of citidenizen and nogoth. Do you understand?”
I stared at the taurian. Shock made me speechless.
“You will return to this chamber in three night’s time to make your formal statement of renunciation. All present now will be present then. If you do not appear, you will fail the test. Do you have any questions?”
“But...”
The taurian stood. “All to return in three nights. That’s all.”
People began leaving the chamber. The usher took Karanlik by the arm and led her to a door. I followed, closing the door behind me then hobbling down the empty corridor to approach the usher. “What’s going on?” I asked him.
“What d’you mean?”
Karanlik cried out, “Ügliy, I didn’t do anything. I don’t know what’s happening.”
“Did you steal?” I asked her.
“No! Of course not.”
I faced the usher. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”
&n
bsp; “She’s accused of theft.”
“But she says she didn’t do it,” I said.
The usher nodded. “I know that. She didn’t do it. It’s all fixed, you see. We need to clear the Mavrosopolis of a lot of nogoths.”
I took a pace back. “Fixed? You mean, it’s all fixed? I don’t have to renounce her?”
“What are you talking about?” the usher retorted. “Didn’t you hear what the taurian said? What sort of citidenizen would consider even for a moment the possibility of not renouncing a shameless cimmerian?”
“But she’s innocent.”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
I found myself speechless once again.
The usher clicked his tongue in disapproval. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’ve only got three days to sort yourself out—otherwise you’ll fail the test.” He looked down at my crutch and added, “Mind you...”
“But how can I renounce an innocent?”
The usher laughed. “Haven’t you learned anything? This isn’t to do with beggars, this is for the Mavrosopolis. If you become a part of the Mavrosopolis you get rid of the nogoth in you—everything. That includes cimmerian parasites. It’s all part of the test.” He shrugged, glancing again at my crutch. “Take it or leave it.”
“But that’s not justice.”
The usher sneered. “What do you know about justice?” And he walked off, with Karanlik at his side.
“Wait,” I shouted, “what will happen to her?”
“She’ll be detained. You can visit her once only. I wouldn’t bother, it might prejudice your test.”
I was left alone in the corridor. It had all happened so fast I wondered if it was a dream. But I did not wake up.
The next night I spent hunched in my doorway on Blackguards’ Passage. I had never felt so alone. Though I had not known Karanlik long, her generosity and courage had spoken to me in a way no other person’s had. And now she was to be ripped from me. I could not believe that. I would not. Nogoths had finer feelings because they were human—despite the fact that they lived on the fringes of the Mavrosopolis—and those feelings had to be taken into account.
The Rat and the Serpent Page 11