main | table of contents The Reflecting Eye Copyright © 2003, S. Y. Affolee 16 The Corvus “The old man may be right,” Gammell mused as they walked out of the institute. The evening air was chilly, but it wasn’t snowing. The sky was clear with stars. The waning moon was a bright crescent. In about a week, the moon wouldn’t be there at all. “You know what he meant by guardians,” said Verity. “Yes.” “Well, what did he mean?” No one else was in the parking lot. Gammell had parked next to Verity’s car and they stood facing each other, leaning against their own cars. “My family is supposed to be in charge of making sure that the other doesn’t get from there to here.” So they were back to his delusions. Or everyone’s delusions. Or perhaps she was becoming delusional too after hearing it all repeatedly. “If you’re in charge, then why are you doing all this research? You’re supposed to know all about it.” “That’s the problem. I don’t. The last time my family really had to do anything was a little more than a hundred and fifty years ago, right before the manor was given away to be made the institute. They thought that they had gotten rid of the other or strengthened the barrier enough so that they wouldn’t have to worry about it ever again. And so the knowledge was never really passed down.” “I’ve read reports from patients claiming there are people trying to bring whatever it is you’re alluding to back to Monteport. These reports were fifty years old. I don’t think they succeeded then. What makes you and everyone else like you think that this year will be different?” “Probably timing. And I hate to say it, but also my intuition.” He slipped his key into his car door. “I’m going to head on over to the Corvus. Maybe we’ll get dinner together another time.” “You’re really going to church, aren’t you? What if I come with you?” He stopped in the midst of opening his car door. “You’re serious aren’t you? People have listened to my theories but have dismissed them as just superstitious and delusional stories. You really want to see what I find out?” Under his sharp gaze, she suddenly felt uncomfortable. “I mean, why not? I’m not really saying that I believe you…well, I haven’t been inside the Corvus before. As a non-religious person, I never had reason before to take a look.” “It’s quite a place. You can follow me in your car if you like. I’ll be parking on the square.” Verity did not think any sort of following was necessary. Even from outside the city, the spires of the cathedral, or the Corvus as many of the natives of Monteport called it, could be seen. In the night, it was a black sharp thing in the sky. No one could miss it. She parked her car near Gammell’s in front of the library and walked with him to what was supposed to be the entrance. If there had been no moon and no street lights, the façade of the cathedral would have simply been a black impenetrable wall. As they stepped toward the front door and Gammell put his hand on it to push it open, Verity heard cackling noises above her. She looked up and saw dark birds perched on the eaves, watching them. The crows made more cackling noises and then settled down again as they entered the Corvus. The small foyer they entered was dark except for the few electric lamps placed at the corners. The pillars ringing the room were carved intricately with ivy and crows in varying poses—flying, wings spread, wings by the side, nesting. There was another door apart from the entrance that was located at the opposite end of the foyer. Beside it was a square wooden box on a stand. There was a slit at the top. Gammell took out a bill from his wallet and slipped the money into the box before opening the door and entering. He did not look back to see if she was following him. Hastily, she took a crumpled bill from her coat pocket and crammed it into the collection box feeling like she was paying some admission price instead of a donation. Then she followed Gammell into the main part of the Corvus. The main room was enormous—it could have easily held thousands of people during a service. Huge pillars rose up from the sides of the room to support a high vaulted ceiling that seemed to stretch upward to the heavens. There were also windows of darkly stained glass with pictures of crows. Stone cubbyholes lined the side walls. The novices had already started decorating for Fasting Day as the cubby holes were filled with white candles. Half of them were already lit which cast the room in flickering light and moving shadow. Gammell did not look at any of this. Instead, he headed to the front of the room which held an altar draped in white and a terrifying statue of a man-like thing with the head of a crow. The nameless one, Aunat, stared out at the two new visitors with his stone eyes. A silent priestess in a black cloak was at the altar arranging some white tapers on a brass stand. There were a few pews to the side for the elderly and the disabled, but the rest of the room was empty giving the visitor and eyeful of the floor which was painted in an intricate array of strokes that resembled a cloud of black and blue feathers. At the front, before Aunat’s idol, Gammell dropped to his knees and bowed his head. Verity followed suit and closed her eyes as she bowed her own head. Instead of a prayer for the nameless one, she thought of the man beside her. Why was she here with him now? Why did she accept being his assistant in the first place? Was he in his right mind? Or more important, was she in her right mind? Did she even like him? Her mind shut off after that thought and she began listening to her own breathing. The cathedral itself was cold. The candles did not give off any noticeable heat and there was no heater making grumbling noises in the silence. There were tiny noises, however, of the priestess moving things on the altar. There was also a tapping noise that slowly grew louder. Verity opened her eyes and looked up seeing a priest, also in a black cloak, walk toward them. His face was round and red from the cold. His thinning brown hair was meticulously combed back and around his neck, he wore a tiny iron crow pendant. She heard Gammell exhale. From the corner of her eye, she saw him raise his head and fix his eyes on the priest. He rose to his feet. Verity hastily scrambled up soon after. “Good evening, Consul,” Gammell said. The priest stopped and nodded politely. “Good evening. May I help you with something?” “As a matter of fact, yes. One of my, ah, friend’s acquaintances had mentioned that you may be of some help about some of the myths of Monteport.” “Are you a scholar?” “Somewhat.” “I’m not sure if anyone here knows too much about the myths of Monteport although I might have some references in my office that might be helpful.” The priest turned to the priestess. “I will be right back.” The priestess nodded and went back to her task. They followed the priest into a tiny corridor that branched further into the church. His office was a couple doors down. It was like one of the tiny cubbyholes in the main room except this one was large enough for one person, a desk, two chairs, and a small shelf. As the priest sat behind his desk, Verity stood shoulder to shoulder with Gammell. “What specific myth do you have in mind? I’ll warn you that I don’t know very much about stories on Monteport. You might have better luck with the humanities department at the college.” “It is about the Unnamed Days and the Rothburne guardians,” said Gammell. “I have heard that they were supposed to take care of the city while Aunat is in hiding during the last five days of the year.” The priest held up his index finger. “That is wrong. Aunat is not in hiding. He is gone. He will resurrect during the new year. It is the nameless one’s test for mankind to see if he can survive on his own without a protector. If mankind can survive, Aunat will return the next year to bring us blessings.” “And what if mankind can’t survive?” “What do you mean? Mankind has always passed the Unnamed Days peacefully. There isn’t anything particularly chaotic about them.” “Sure, but what would happen if mankind could not survive the Unnamed Days?” The priest waved his hand dismissively. “It would be an apocalypse then. Mankind would be destroyed and Aunat would not return to rebuild. But that’s never going to happen.” “So what prevents it from happening? I’ve heard about the Rothburne guardians doing something, but what is it that they do?” “Not very many people know about the guardians,” said the priest, “which is probably a good thing. If the superstitious realized how dependent we are on them, well, people would be a lot less calm. The guardians, of which the Rothburnes are only a branch of, are sort of like a police force if you will, making sure that people will not turn to worshipping unnatural things. How they do it is a mystery. I suppose it’s only kept within the family to make sure that whatever it is they do aren’t subverted.” “Do you know of any guardians, then?” asked Gammell. The priest shrugged. “They are only stories. The guardians are myths. The Rothburnes haven’t been in Monteport for over a century and nothing has happened. I think these are just tales to scare people into staying true to Aunat’s teachings during the Unnamed Days.”