There are those who have said that she failed in her duty, for the greatest crime remained unconsummated. I have only this to say to such people: the Hunter will come for you.
44
In the House of Light and Dark
“Good afternoon, sleepy head!” Cat called out. “That is you, isn’t it, Bruce, darling?”
“Yes, Cat. It’s me. What time is it?” He ambled into the morning room with a resplendent view of the Ortasu. “Oh, you have visitors, I’m sorry–” he paused and then smiled as he recognized a slight figure who had risen to her feet to bow solemnly.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Dalga said shyly. Her long, glossy dark hair framed her oval face out of which large, hazel eyes looked up at him with a mixture of happiness and reserve. She was dressed in a simple dark blue dress and her broken arm was set in plaster.
“Good afternoon, Dalga,” Bruce said, with equal solemnity. “I am very happy to see you. How are you?”
“I am very well,” Dalga answered, and then peered around him as though searching for something or someone. “Um…sir? Where is Sofia?”
“No longer running around!” Bruce sighed. “At least for the moment. Would you like to see her?”
Dalga nodded vehemently, her eyes shining.
“Sofia!” he called out. “Come, girl. Dalga is here to see you. I am sorry,” he added, looking appealingly towards Cat and the woman who had been seated next to Cat as Sofia’s clattering paws could be heard on the staircase. “I believe we were briefly introduced at the harbor when we arrived,” he said. “How do you do? I am Bruce. Bruce Saber.” He held out his hand in greeting.
Markiza rose and gave him an affectionate hug. “Of course, Bruce. I am Markiza.”
“Sofia!” Dalga cried and ran towards the Doberman who responded by placing her front paws upon the child’s shoulders. Dalga stumbled good-humoredly under the weight of the dog.
“I came to take you all to watch Evening Song at the House of Light and Dark,” Markiza said. “Shady told me Orion isn’t here – who knows where he might be! So I offered to take you under my wing for the afternoon. What do you say? It – well, I wanted to show Dalga, too–” she glanced anxiously at the girl. “Shady wants to take you to the dark hall tonight. We’ll drop you off after Evening Song.”
“Sounds like a great plan!” Bruce replied eagerly. “Where’s Roland?”
“In the proverbial rose garden…” Cat gave him a meaningful look. “He couldn’t find a handy rose garden here, though, so he’s meditating somewhere in the grounds.” She waved her hands vaguely.
“Is it almost time for Evening Song?” Bruce asked, aghast.
“Well, yes, darling. What did you get up to last night after we got back?”
Bruce groaned. “Sofia wanted to go out for a run just before dawn. It took her at least an hour and a half to get it out of her system – Sofia may be immortal,” he explained as an aside to Markiza. “It’s a long story.”
“Yes, I imagine it is.”
“And Hazel,” Dalga chimed in. “She got life too. They both did. That’s why Sofia’s so happy now, isn’t it?”
“She’s happy to see you,” Bruce told her.
“I am happy to see her,” Dalga said, stroking the dog gently.
“I’ll go find Roland,” Cat said brightly.
* * *
They stepped into the back seat of Markiza’s cart that was to take them to the House of Light and Dark. Markiza sat in the seat opposite and explained eagerly that she hoped they would arrive a few minutes before Evening Song. “You see, every Sunday until Evening Song the House of Light and Dark is open to the final debates in any proposals or changes to the laws. I thought you might find it interesting.”
“Yes, yes. What exactly does that mean?” Bruce asked.
Markiza smiled indulgently, “It’s our version of law-making. It’s the same way we do everything: by community.
“Any citizen of Pera can propose a law. At anytime. In practice this usually involves a proposal generated from the dozens of meetings – with varying degrees of formality – organized throughout Pera. People come together within their neighborhoods to discuss everything from the needs of their respective communities to matters affecting Pera at large, or even other communities – those beyond the light tree divide.” She paused and smiled. “You don’t know what the light tree divide is, do you?”
“No, we don’t,” Cat assented, seconded by Father Griffith.
“You have borders on your side of the Veil. We do not. Not in the sense you would understand. We are separated from the rest of our world by our light trees because they only grow in Pera. For reasons we do not completely understand, the light tree cannot survive anywhere except in the soil of Pera. There is a change in the soil. Perans can feel it. We know when we have crossed the divide.”
Cat let out a hoot of laughter. “I can’t believe it! Books without titles that people just know, and countries without borders that citizens can feel. But do you know, I love it!”
“I’m glad,” Markiza said warmly. “If you love Pera, it will give back so much in return. You cannot imagine.”
“How can you feel when you’ve crossed the border?” Father Griffith inquired. “It sounds highly unusual, at the very least,” he added skeptically.
Markiza gave him a mischievous smile. “Perhaps we will teach you.”
“What happens to the proposals put forth at these meetings?” Bruce asked with a touch of impatience.
“Oh yes. It’s a two-tiered process,” Markiza explained. “First, the proposed law – it could be a change to an existing law, of course – is debated and voted on in the branch in which it was brought. It moves on to the second level if it is supported by eighty percent of the votes cast.”
“Eighty percent! Goodness!” Cat cried. “I’ve never come across a law that had that much support.”
“We don’t make laws easily. Pera doesn’t like rules as a rule,” Markiza said serenely.
“No, I can see that,” Cat smiled. “A place after my own heart…”
“And if the law is passed in the branch, it will be up for debate in the House of Light and Dark. I hope we will catch the tail end of it today. Whatever is debated today will be submitted Pera-wide to a vote the following Friday. At that point, it needs seventy percent of the votes to pass.
“And then it will become part of Pera’s state laws. You see, we have two sets of laws… in a way, there are three,” she corrected after a thoughtful pause. “First, there are Shadow’s Laws, which are what you might call the law of the land. Literally so. You see, the land, water and the air of Pera belongs to Pera, that means to the citizens of Pera. Therefore, whatever is attached to, and grows from the land – such as the light trees – also belongs to the citizens of Pera. Each citizen owns a part of Pera – the land, the water, the air, and of course, the light trees – and it is forbidden to sell or buy ownership rights to these things. These are immutable laws. They cannot be changed.
“But the fruit of the land, water and trees; the structures built on the land; and all other personal or business matters… may be sold, leased, bought. Such matters are handled by the second set of laws: the state’s laws. These laws are constantly changing as law is supposed to, according to the needs of society.
“But there are times when Shadow’s laws and the state laws come into conflict. These disputes are resolved by Pera’s laws. They are a hybrid: they are not considered entirely settled, as with Shadow’s Laws, but are significantly harder to modify than the state’s laws.”
“Wow! That’s quite a system! I imagine it can get rather convoluted,” Bruce remarked. “What is the law that is being debated today?”
“It works better than you might imagine, in practice,” Markiza said. “I do not have any legal training, but my husband is a Justice, so I have had an opportunity to be exposed – in my limited way – to intriguing legal concepts. It’s fascinating. Mr. Saber, I know you are an accom
plished attorney on the other side of the Veil, but perhaps we might persuade you to share your talents with us.” She turned to Bruce with a gracious smile.
“I would be honored,” Bruce replied.
“And the law being debated this evening is a somewhat technical point on whether or not to add lightsmear to warmlights to make them more visible in the streets. Currently warmlights are dark and some people have complained that it makes them hard to find. A warmlight is a sphere coated with the essence of the lightberry – not the lightseed. It provides heat. We put them in public spaces to provide warmth for people and animals.
“I understand there is opposition from a group of biologists who are arguing that adding lightsmear will attract the light birds who will not know that the object gives off heat, and may be burned as a result.”
“Ah. Of course,” Father Griffith smiled.
“Here we are,” Markiza announced as the cart drew to a stop.
The House of Light and Dark was painted bright rose by the Sun’s end-of-the-day light. Her dome glowed coppery-gold. Above the thick wooden doors that were as tall as three men, and as wide as two, two words had been carved out of stone and coated with pure lightseed:
TRUTH FREEDOM
“Truth and freedom,” murmured Father Griffith.
“Yes, those are the founding principles of Pera,” Markiza said. “There can be no truth without freedom, and one can’t be truly free without transparency. We believe that everything else will fall into place so long as those two pillars are solid.”
They passed through the open doors and entered a square hall. At the far end of the hall, some hundred meters distant, was a raised platform upon which a debate was in full force. People were sitting and standing around the platform.
They walked upon marble flagstones, white and black, assembled like a chessboard, towards the congregation. In the middle of the hall, under the dome, was a pool of water. Around the pool were arranged rows of pews all the way to the platform. They made their way around the pool…
The walls on the right side were painted a mixture of gold and ivory. The walls shimmered with an inner fire that did not need assistance from the dying light of the sun, which filtered through the windows of the dome.
The walls on the left side of the hall were dark: the black of Night. Not quite black, not quite blue.
It’s like looking out into a starless night, mused Father Griffith. There’s a feeling of space within the walls. As though, if I look long enough, and carefully enough… I could see… I could see into the dark, he thought.
“You find the walls fascinating?” Markiza whispered.
Father Griffith gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I suppose it seems odd, but the walls look to me to have depth.”
“Yes, that is intentional. It’s because they are coated with Invertible Moonlightsmear–”
“Oh yes, I see.”
“You see–” Markiza explained, pointing to the golden walls. “That wall is coated with Invertible Sunlightsmear.”
“Are you quite sure it’s all right to bring Sofia?” Bruce asked, worried. He was looking around for evidence of other animals.
“Yes, yes,” Markiza whispered vigorously. “People and animals, both, are always welcome in the House of Light and Dark.”
Bruce scratched Sofia behind the ear, recalling how Shadow appeared to communicate with her in the Cistern. “You’re a good girl,” he told her.
“Everyone knows how to behave in the House of Light and Dark,” Markiza said with dignity. “You see–” she pointed to a young woman who had entered the hall. She was carrying a small fluffy dog in her arms. As they watched, she took a seat on a pew near the east side of the pool and placed the dog at her feet.
“Do you know the people who are speaking?” Cat asked quietly.
Markiza nodded. “Listen. The gentleman who is talking now is the head of the Biology department at the University of Light: Professor Koru.
They caught phrases such as ‘light refraction quotient in the bird’s eye,’ and ‘even the lowest lightsmear coefficient,’ which were all but meaningless in their unfamiliarity, but the passion with which the elderly man in the untidy suit imbued his subject needed no translation. As his hands flew and his face grew redder, a woman in the audience raised her voice and asked a question: “How about putting a cage around the warmlights? Wouldn’t that protect the birds and allow the warmlights to be more visible?”
The biologist paused, adjusted his half-moon glasses and gave a tentative nod.
“There was an objection to that suggestion on aesthetic grounds,” another member of the audience volunteered. “But I think it’s a good idea. I don’t mind the warmlights looking a little uglier if it means the birds are safe. They are hard to see at night, so I think the addition of the lightsmear is necessary.”
Voices of agreement rose in the gathered crowd. The erstwhile silent member of the debating duo on the platform raised his hand. “I suggest amending the proposed law to include the use of a cage and–” he nodded towards the elderly professor standing nearby, “Professor Koru, perhaps you would provide the specifications to ensure that the birds are kept a safe distance away?”
“That’s Kaan Ayna, the president of the society of architects,” Markiza explained.
Professor Koru’s smile was half-hidden by an abundance of facial hair. “Er, yes, yes. I think that might work…” he said with guarded enthusiasm.
Above, through the dome, Father Griffith noted the waning light of the Sun as she continued on her daily march to the River.
“Come, let’s sit down,” Markiza suggested and, holding Dalga’s hand, herded them to a pew. “Evening Song will start shortly.”
“We will have the amended proposal available for view on the Law Board by Evening Song tomorrow,” Kaan Ayna announced. “It’s almost Evening Song and I have to find a seat!” he added to general applause and laughter from the audience. “Good evening, everyone.” He waved, and stepped off the stage after Professor Koru.
Father Griffith took a deep breath. Now it’s time for Evening Song…
The audience looked on expectantly as a group of men and women in evening dress approached the stage. Behind the group, upon the wall that reached up to the glass dome, was the figure of a white crocodile constructed entirely of a mosaic of mother-of-pearl. The Crocodile was set in a bed of turquoise that shimmered and appeared to flicker, as though alive.
The women on stage were dressed in evening gowns of gold, and the men wore black. They were joined by a young woman in a dress the color of blood. She and one of the men stood before the group side by side.
“And the Sun grew tired,” sang the man in the front row in a voice that was deep yet not entirely masculine. A genderless voice: full and rich.
Cat settled comfortably in her seat in happy anticipation. Dalga, seated between her and Markiza, reached over to pat Sofia’s dark brown head.
As the Sun fell into the River, a man walked to the center of the stage. He was a big man with a large voice. This was the voice of the Land. It was all too human. A deep, earthy, masculine humanity. Full of fear and pathos, the Land sang:
Come, O Sun, come forth, golden one.
Yellow Sun – look to my bloody eyes.
I cannot see…
And he offered his own daughter to the Sun in return for his sight…
The young woman in the red dress came forward: Cypress pleading with her father.
O father, light of my eyes, my warmth, my blood–
My father, my tangle-haired father,
Why? What have I done?
I was your rose, your brightness,
It was all lightness.
O father, what have I done?
Her voice was heartbreakingly fragile as it enveloped the audience in a wave of sadness.
I don’t even want to breathe, thought Father Griffith, lest I shatter it.
Cat put her arm around Dalga. “It’s alright, darling,” she
whispered.
“You see, it’s just a song,” Markiza said.
But it isn’t just a song, thought Dalga, watching dry-eyed. Why, Father? What have I done?
And then the Sun called out to her brother, for there are things that even Light cannot do. One of the women dressed in gold had taken center-stage, next to the woman in the blood-red dress. She sang:
O brother, my brother, wake up!
My black haired brother, awaken now!
It is your time; awaken now.
I have fallen in the River and the Land is afraid.
My brother, the Land is afraid for he cannot see.
Come, my brother, over land and sea,
Come forth, brother, open your eyes and see.
Little Cypress drowns brother; make haste.
Before the Land, in his blind fear and fury, creates more waste…
And the Dark heard his sister…
And he knew that there are things that only the Dark can do, and that therefore, the Dark shall do.
Asleep under the stars, he heard his sister.
He yawned and stretched and rubbed his eyes all black. He rose and listened to his sister far and deep.
He ran, over mountains and hills, through the empty desert, over a black ocean he flew…
Sang the chorus.
“He is a very well-known opera singer,” Markiza leaned over to whisper as a tall man began to sing the part of Twilight. His voice was a threatening thing: it held a note of barely-controlled anger. Not human anger.
This voice can truly be described as coming from the stars… marveled Father Griffith. Its anger does not seem to belong to flesh and blood.
And I have taken from the water your daughter’s tears
And I have taken from the water your daughter’s fears… he sang, moving towards the woman in the red dress.
There is blood in the water to remind you of this wrong!
And they could feel this indignation, this outrage. Especially since we have one of the Land’s innocent victims with us, thought Father Griffith. I too feel enraged with this foolish Land! It was right that the Land should remain mute. What could he say? How could he right such a wrong?
the Dark shall do what Light cannot Page 40