A Swift Exchange (31)
Who would have such maps at their disposal? And how could Godiar have access to them? The answers to these questions would end up being quite illuminating.
Go back to the INDEX.
We spent some hours making copies of the map, in a fashion that would suit our purposes. There was some debate as to how much detail we needed. We drew one approximation of the whole city, and then more detailed maps of each precinct.
Despite the casual attitude Godiar put on around the maps, I got the distinct impression he was eager to return them to where they belonged, which made me suspect he had “forgotten” to get permission to take them.
Who would have such maps at their disposal? And how could Godiar have access to them? The answers to these questions would end up being quite illuminating.
We worked as a team for most of the effort. Mother sketched map details onto new sheets of paper, provided by our new friend after his short excursion into the warren of buildings. I went over her work with black ink, and Godiar placed the red and blue lines in relation to the pattern of the underlying details, making a list for himself of all the features and names he needed to translate for us as he went. As on the original, red marked Boundary lines, and blue marked waterways.
After a light meal of sihan, Godiar went through his various lists with us, and we annotated our copies. He revealed a number of fascinating anecdotes, many of which seemed irrelevant, and some of which I have since forgotten.
Most memorable of them was this one:
“Up in the Citadel Precinct the views are incredible, and in the golden hour, these views are said to melt the hearts of even the most bitter cynic. Indeed, I’ve witnessed one of the most stoic of misers shed open tears at the sights they beheld there. There are gardens, reclaimed from the ruins of some former edifice, filled with secluded walkways, stone alcoves where dappled light glints through jasmine and osmanthus, famed by poets for centuries, preferred by lovers for generations, strewn with walkways and arches.
“At night, the scents and shadows conspire together to lure both lovers and legislators to these nooks and crevices, offering solitude and secrecy. And of course, sometimes legislators meet secret lovers there.
“Why ‘of course’? Because the Hall of Revels is also up in the Citadel Precinct. No, not some mere whorehouse like you are thinking, the Revels are something else, another order of activity entirely, both less than a whore, and much more, if you catch my meaning. The Revels can be the common thing you imagine them to be, but there is a potential for so much more, and those activities might just as easily be borne of art or friendship. I’d guess Aranon knew something about it, being so close by ....
“There is one particular outcrop, called Fool’s Leap, where it is said that a Reveler would stand every day with his love, a princess, and every night they would weep with joy, for each other, for the Revels, and for the view. Their love for each other grew to such a crescendo that when a day came with the perfect sky, the perfect clouds, and the perfect sunset, their hearts could no longer bear the weight of it, and they jumped to their deaths.
“You don’t find the idea romantic? They knew, each of them, that this happiness they felt, this moment of pure bliss, was the culmination of their lives, both individually and as a couple, and they couldn’t bear years of life without this perfect moment. You think this is madness? We Agalins find the idea beautiful, poetic.”
The story would return to my mind, time and again.
More pragmatically, the Citadel seemed to be a center of influence and activity, even though the real heart of power had moved to the Palace Precinct many centuries ago. The Citadel was a wide plateau with almost sheer cliffs on most sides. The strategic advantages of the site were obvious, even to my young and fairly inexperienced mind. The vantage would have allowed early residents to maintain control over the nearby river, and build power and prestige for themselves.
The Citadel Precinct had three common points of entry. One descended into the Palace Precinct on the north side. A second led to the Cave Precinct in the southwest, where the national reserves were kept. And the third reached south, into the Cellar Precinct, where rich foreigners could rent grand houses and have easy access to all the delights of the Citadel. Father was only one of many rich foreigners in the city, and all kinds of other luxuries were to be had up there: food, festivals, art, and vices.
The Cellar Precinct was the most obvious place to begin looking for specific echoes of Aranon, to follow them hither and thither. After thirteen months, these echoes would have been overlaid many times by the wanderings of others, in almost every location. We’d need to explore the quieter pathways, and the maps would help us find those places.
I had placed a Trace on Father years before, remember. I had no familiarity with the city of Agali, not in any worthwhile way. And while Father had walked the city’s streets, I’d been far away in Peledar, at home, barely paying any attention to Father’s distant movements, grateful only for his lack of proximity.
Now, looking at the map, a new realization hit me. Parts of the map, our copy, seemed to give off a kind of light or a heat when I looked at them. I glanced at Mother, and she gave me a strange look.
Returning my gaze to the many sheets covering the table, I reached for the detailed map of Mill Precinct.
I found our little dwelling at once. My Trace on Mother, as well as the new one on Godiar, pulled my attention towards our lodgings. I had a sense, curiously, of where Godiar had stopped for inks and paper. Nothing else of his movements, of course, not yet. Somehow, the map was acting as a conduit for the subconscious knowledge I carried from the magick of the Trace.
I realized there were knots of attention very close by, thanks to my Trace on Mother. One of them was the sihan stall. Another was further away, but stronger, as though she had spent more time there.
I pointed to it, trying to make light of things. “What is this, here?”
Mother’s demeanor changed, just for an instant, and I knew she knew what I could see, and how I could see it. She smiled at me. “That’s a charming little restaurant. I’ll take you there one day. I think you’ll like it.” I knew it was more than that, and she knew that I knew it.
She pointed to another area within Mill Precinct, one that her own Trace did not extend to. But another Trace did: Father’s.
A look passed between us, and it confirmed she was experiencing the same sensation. I surmised then, and still believe, that by drawing our copy of the map we had bound our subconscious awareness from the various Traces we held onto, directly onto our mental map of the city. We could see our Traces through our map, as well as having the more tenuous mental awareness we always felt. This would be an unexpected asset.
Mother looked at Godiar, who seemed to have not noticed our swift exchange. She asked, “What is this place?”
Continue reading with Part 32 next Thursday.