Steph Swainston - No Present Like Time

Superb. I whipped Tris Istorio from the shelf and behind my back. I shoved the little book under my wings into my waistband and pulled my shirt down over it. No one had seen me. Vendace was still talking to Mist.

We went along an open corridor that joined the library to the taller square building. Its entrance was an alabaster arch with an inscription engraved above it. Mist stretched up and swept her finger over the words. “What does this say?”

I considered it. “You’re reading it the wrong way. They write left to right. Um…It says, ‘All men are the same.’”

“You bet they are,” said Mist.

We found ourselves in a semicircular open area like a floor-level stage. In front and stretching up above us were rows of stepped seats on which around fifteen men and women sat, watching us. Some were young, some elderly. To our left, the columns were open to the air, the sheer side of the crag. The hall seemed to extend into space. We stood on the proscenium and felt the weight of the audience’s scrutiny.

“What is this arrangement?” Lightning frowned.

I asked Vendace, who said, “This is the Senate. Elected democratically-”

I waved a hand to slow him. “I don’t know that word.”

Vendace stopped and stared at me.

Mist said, “What did he say?”

I struggled: “There’s no Awian analogue. It’s-it’s like the voting that takes place for mayors in Diw and Vertigo townships in Morenzia, or to choose a governor for Hacilith. But not just between influential families, for everybody. Um…rule by the people…That’s what Vendace said.”

Lightning unslung his longbow and unstrung it. He bowed and whispered to me, “This will do nothing but fray tempers and affect our judgment. We’re depending on you to loose words as swiftly as arrows. Who’s in charge of this court?”

“I think they all are,” I said.

Lightning concentrated on Vendace. For all the old man’s gravity, he looked unsettled under Lightning’s gray assured gaze. By now my throat was so dry it was sore. “Can I have a drink?” I asked Vendace. After a while I was handed a green glass of water, cool and so pure it tasted of nothing.

A boy with a tray provided us all with glasses while Vendace continued to tell the Senate about our ships. I listened but was dimly aware of Wrenn sneaking out behind me, the way we had come, toward the library. I didn’t know where he was going; I was concentrating too hard to worry about him. Our prestigious arrival was not proceeding the way I had hoped.

Vendace said, “We are debating if we should let you stay, and whether or not we assent to any contact with the Fourlands. Our constitution advises against it, because we do not want your culture to damage ours, of which we are proud. Ours is a perfect society built on reason. There are myths that tell of others, very undesirable in comparison.

“The Senate is obliged to discuss every issue for three days before voting. So matters are considered thoroughly and no spurious motions are ever raised. We will let you know our decision in two days’ time.”

I translated word for word. Fulmer almost laughed. “Really, three days, the sluggards,” he spluttered. “Imagine if on the battlefield you had to wait that long!”

“It sounds inefficient,” Lightning agreed. “If we followed such a tradition the Insects would overrun us all the way to Cape Brattice before we made up our minds to fight.”

I grinned. “Look, you two, be quiet!”

The senators murmured with curiosity, trying to figure out what we were saying. Mist hushed us, angered by her dependence on me. I marshaled my scanty knowledge of Trisian and introduced our company, ending with myself: “Comet Jant Shira, the Emperor’s Messenger, and you can call me Jant. We’ve come to tell you the fortunate news: you all have the chance to join the Circle and have eternal life, as we do. Time does not age us…Although I can’t really prove it unless we sit here for ten years…Anyway, we want to remind Tris of its place in the Empire; we’ve come at the behest of the Emperor San, that your island and the mainland may no longer be adrift but firm allies-” I halted because at the mention of San the senators leaned to each other and started talking.

Vendace turned to the fifteen men and women; they conferred together, speaking in complicated terms at a natural speed, much faster than I could hope to follow. They came to a consensus and informed Vendace, who motioned for me to continue.

“San makes us, and will make the best of you, immortal. We fight the Insects, but-” Another buzz passed between them, and I knew I had hit a chord. “Insects, yes, like the picture in your courtyard.”

A young lady rose from the center of the audience. She wore a short dress and a patterned stole wrapped around her body. Her sandal thongs crisscrossed her slender legs to the knee. Her features were light, her hair close-cropped. Unlike Vendace, she had wings; they were small, brunette and very pert. “Danio, Bibliophylax,” Vendace announced. The library’s keeper, if I understood him correctly.

Danio said, “Insects are just a story; there’s no evidence whatsoever. And how can people be eternal? You’ve taken old tales and you expect us to believe them? The threat of death defines humanity; nothing is as unnatural as an immortal.”

I translated, saying, “Mist, they don’t believe in Insects. I think it’s your turn now.”

Through me, Mist spoke to Vendace, but everyone in the Senate assumed her words were also addressed to them. “Sir, we brought an Insect to show you Capharnai-I mean Trisians. It’s imprisoned on our ship, so if you come to the harbor I’ll give you a tour of the caravels.”

Vendace said, “What do you think, Professor?”

Danio paused, reluctant, then answered smoothly, “Our visitors’ colossal boats themselves suggest this isn’t a hoax. Yes, this is truly a historic occasion. If they really have an Insect and if the myths I’ve spent my life discrediting are true, I want to see it.” She stepped down over the stone benches to the stage, approached me closely and looked at my face. A bitten-nailed finger brushed over my Wheel scar and then down to rest on my feathers, questioningly. We gazed at each other. She leaned forward; humor danced in her strikingly intelligent hazel eyes.

Mist announced, “Jant, tell them that anyone who desires can return with us to see the Castle. I’ll show them the glory of the Fourlands; give them a great welcome and lavish ambassadorial treatment.”

Danio roused herself and turned away from me. Damn.

I closely translated Mist’s offer but none of the Senate seemed impressed. Much of the island’s adventurous spirit must be lost, because the few individuals who possess it in abundance could not be frozen forever at their optimum age. I resumed my speech: “You don’t understand. The Empire’s hundreds of times larger than Tris. Our city of Hacilith could swallow Capharnaum ten times. Our fyrd’s half a million men, our fleet of caravels like those two in the harbor is-”

Vendace cut me short: “We are not interested. The Senate must consider for no less than three days, and you cannot influence our debate because you are not an inhabitant of Tris.”

I ran a hand over my hair in exasperation.

From the corner of my eye I saw Wrenn scuttle out under the archway, holding a shiny object in both hands. He dashed rudely over to me and tapped me on the wing, “Jant!”

I could stand no more. “That’s Comet to you! Can’t you be quiet? This is a crucial moment, our first meeting with the Senate and you interrupt me! What do you think you’re…? Oh, what are you carrying?”

For a second I thought it was a Tine artifact and my reality slipped; I felt dizzy and disconnected. Wrenn held a chamber pot. It was identical to every other chamber pot in the Fourlands, except that it was shining metal: gold. It must have been very heavy.