main | table of contents The Reflecting Eye Copyright © 2003, S. Y. Affolee 22 Tower Verity wiped the condensation off the window of the bus and peered out at the deep turquoise sky outlining the soaring columns and arches of an ancient aqueduct crossing the Old Quarter. In the distance rose the solitary conical pillar of the East Tower. After the service at the Corvus, she and Gammell had decided to meet later in the Old Quarter at the East Tower before they both headed over to the residence of one of Gammell’s acquaintances for the evening Feasting Day event. Verity had gone back home to change into the costume that she had bought earlier at the small boutique, Hesters, that had been located in the business district. The traditional color for the holidays was a plain white to reflect the color of snow in mid-winter. It represented the purging of the old year for the new. It also represented the death of the old year and the purity and possibilities of the new. The dress that the clerk at Hesters had picked out for Verity was bone white, the texture not quite satin and not quite silk, but it was smooth and the rustling it made while she walked was only felt and not heard. The bodice was close-fitting and laced up in front. The neckline was a rounded scoop and when Verity looked at herself in the mirror to see if it fit properly, she thought the neckline was possibly a little too low, maybe almost scandalously low. The sleeves came down in a slanted cut past her wrists so that her bandages were obscured. The rest of the dress flared slightly from her hips and trailed to the ground. She had to pick up the tresses if she didn’t want to trip while walking on the stairs. The clerk had also sold her the mask that came with the dress. It covered the upper half of her face, just the eyes and the temple, and it was the same color as the dress and just as simple. When she put the mask on while in front of the mirror, she no longer looked at the pale woman with badly cut dark hair. Instead, a ghostly apparition with black locks just teasing the lower ears and the back of the neck stared back with wary eyes. Verity had decided to take the bus, line seventeen, down to the Old Quarter. From the bus schedules, a few of the lines in Monteport operated through the night from Feasting Day to Fasting Day in the rationale that it may be better take people home after the revelry and binging from Feasting Day celebrations rather than letting them drive home by themselves. Verity did not want to take her car as she knew that many people would be on the streets during this one day in the year when people let all their urges rather than their mind to rule their bodies. The bus itself was filled with other Feasting Day revelers masked and in costumes of white, cream, or silver. Heavy dark coats covered the majority of the costumes just as she had buttoned her own coat to keep warm. Everyone was laughing and joking and talking and gossiping about the various parties that they were going to attend in the Old Quarter. And as she listened to all the talk and the laughter, she watched the East Tower slowly creep closer and closer. Line seventeen stopped at the corner of Main and Bilemot, the very heart of the Old Quarter. Verity filed off the bus along with the other passengers and for a while, she stood on the sidewalk breathing out a white cloud of warm breath as she watched the other passengers disperse to their various destinations and the bus rumbling off down the road. The tower was still a block away. The tower itself was connected to the aqueduct serving as a way station of sorts, channeling water into one of the city’s two reservoirs. The other reservoir was located on the other side of the city at the West Tower. A second line of aqueducts rimmed that part of the city’s border. But this elaborate water supply system that stretched north into the mountains some thirty miles away had been built in ancient times. It no longer worked, the water had been permanently shut off when technology had improved to such an extent that every household could have access to purified drinking water. Now the aqueduct and the towers were merely remnants of a previous civilization, curiosities for historians and students of architecture and landmarks for sightseeing for bored tourists. Fountains, decorated by gargoyles that served as spouts and empty except for snow, ringed the East Tower and served as ancient water distributing centers. All along the street, strings of white electric lights were hung among the doorways of the sagging apartment buildings and the old-fashioned iron railings as garlands. The small electric lights cast the street in an eerie silver glow. A group of revelers in white face paint, long conical hats and silver capes rounded the street corner and passed Verity as if she was nothing other than another lamppost. They sang a lusty song about barmaids and sailors. She watched them march down the street in careening, drunken circles before heading toward the tower again. The doors to the East Tower were thrown open to invite any passing visitor to walk up to the top and to survey the city from above. Someone had mounted torches on the interior walls of the tower. The flickering flames cast orange-yellow light and twisting shadows onto the winding stair that circled the very inner core of the tower which was inaccessible because that was where the water from the aqueduct had been originally channeled through. Verity picked up her skirts and climbed the stone steps. There were no other visitors and it was silent except for her own footsteps. Near the top of the tower, there was small wooden door that led up to the parapet that overlooked the connection of the aqueduct to the tower and the rest of the Old Quarter. She was about to open the door when she noticed the low voices drifting through from the other side. She stood still and listened. “I heard that they have finally found it.” “And it was perfect timing too. Everything is going to fall into place. Finally.” “I can almost taste my own excitement. It’s like opening presents.” “Or sex.” “Well, it depends on who you’re doing. A mistress maybe, but not the wife. She’s a dead fish in bed.” There was laughter. The second man said, “But when the new year comes we will finally have what is coming to us. A completely new era. And instead of being at the bottom, we’ll finally be at the top.” “That is something to contemplate. So when is it?” “The fifth day, of course. The fifth hour before. I actually managed to talk to him the other day.” “What did he say?” “He said this year is the year. The last year. Things will change. He said that with it, we can finally, truly summon the other.” “Oh, dear Aunat. I can hardly even comprehend the thought.” “That’s just the thing, isn’t it? There will be no more Aunat or any other manifestations of the unnamed one.” “I can’t believe I’m smiling at the ‘blasphemy’.” “After this year, nothing will be held back. There won’t be such things as blasphemy any more, because frankly, everything will be.” “But it hasn’t come to pass yet.” The man’s voice dropped lower. “What if someone is overhearing us?” Verity shivered. What if the two men suddenly opened the door and found her listening in on them? She took a step back and something took hold of her arm. Instinctively, she opened her mouth to shout, but a hand came over to smother any sound she might make. “Sh. It’s only me.” The familiar voice softly caressed her left ear. She twisted around and looked into a pair of brown-green eyes peering at her through a white mask that covered only the upper part of his face. “Gammell.” “They’ll probably open the door at any moment. Let’s go down.” Letting out a shaky breath, she said, “All right, but you scared me.” She followed him down the steps until they were outside again. The cold air calmed her. He turned his head slightly to glance at her. “Sorry. I’ll try not to surprise you so suddenly again.” “No. I understand why you did it. I just wasn’t thinking.” He nodded. “Well, my colleague’s residence is on this street. I think it’s not too far away, just a couple minutes on foot.”