The Heavenly Lord’s Ambassador. A Kingdom Like No Other. Book 1. Андрей Кочетков

the object of his dreams. And now, after almost two years of playing at sidelong glances, formal greetings (during which his chest nearly burst from the wild beating of his heart), and tactful hints concerning matters of great subtlety, he had taken a deep breath (now or never!) and asked the girl of his dreams to meet him in the gardens of Archomena at the changing of the seventh watch.

      City dwellers loved the gardens of Archomena because they seemed to have been designed to give young people sufficient privacy to conduct their social lives while actually remaining in clear view of anyone who walked by. This allowed young women to maintain their reputations and relieved young men of the trouble of finding a place to sit in peace with a girl one had just met.

      The customs of the capital, which ought to have been very strict because of the proximity of the most holy sites for worshiping the Heavenly Deity, were, in fact, much more tolerant of natural human weakness than those touted by the patriarchal style of the Herandian provinces. In the first decades of the Empire’s existence, the priests of the Sun had attempted to control morals and relations between the sexes, but as Enteveria became a large, cosmopolitan city, the priests had encountered resistance in the form of deceit, sabotage, and open protest. In the end, the city’s religious leaders decided it was pointless to bail water from a sinking boat and revised their strictures to something simple: “Anything is permitted that does not offend the Lord of the Sky.” In simple terms, that meant once the sun went down, the city became unrecognizable. Some of the livelier citizens also decided that well-drawn curtains were the moral equivalent of nightfall.

      As a typical romantic, Uni saw such goings-on as a crude attack on his pure dream world, and he rejected them utterly. He felt that intimacy with his beloved would be entirely different, something holy, something that strived toward the light.

      With these thoughts in mind – his eyes focused on the world outside the dusty archive – he ran smack into an unexpected guest who had been peaceably conversing with senior master Barko.

      “You’re a strange one, Uni,” his superior commented in a voice that was both kindly and patronizing. “You either disappear for who knows how long, or you knock a man off his feet.”

      The words tripped over Uni’s tongue as he apologized. He awkwardly put his fists to his chest and then held out his right arm as he bowed low, making the traditional Herandian display of respect look somewhat comic and depriving it of the elegance that any courtier would have displayed in a similar situation. Blushing deeply, he raised his eyes to see who had fallen victim to his detachment from the real world and let out a sigh of relief. The late-comer was Manelius Ronko, an advisor to the Heavenly Throne and a great lover of ancient manuscripts. His handsome, almond-shaped eyes gazed at Uni with humor and not the slightest sign of annoyance.

      “Enel Ronko, this is our best and most gifted employee, Unizel Virando.” Barko cleared his throat. “I believe you are already acquainted.”

      Ronko bowed his head. “Barko, my friend, I will be doubly grateful if you will show us to a quiet corner where we can talk in private,” he said, looking around as if he had just noticed they were standing in a hallway.

      Ronko followed the young archivist to a small alcove that was used for copying lists and cataloging books. The imperial advisor carried himself with great dignity, and his lips were set in a condescending smile. He wore a richly colored robe that fell to his heels, with wide sleeves that engulfed his arms and required him to move with solemnity. As he walked, Ronko swept his bent arms forward and to the side, as if drawing his companion’s attention to the shelves and boxes of scrolls containing ancient wisdom. Ronko was entirely unaware that he was posing, and it did not bother Uni at all. He had first met Ronko three years prior, and he was continually amazed by the man’s desire for individual enlightenment, an unusual trait for a courtier of his stature.

      Courtiers and wealthy men of an intellectual bend often visited the archive to collect crumbs of knowledge they could use to show off in their next report, or snatches of poetry they could recite to impress their lovers. On occasion, they ordered copies of ancient tracts with titles like “Strategies for Skirmishing with Barbarians and other Enemies,” which were an obligatory element in the personal libraries of educated men throughout the empire. However, they rarely visited the archive in person. Instead, they had couriers who dropped off notes, picked up orders, and delivered them to the clients’ homes.

      Uni had often delivered such orders. He disliked running errands, but he found a bit of enjoyment in visiting the homes of wealthy clients and collecting even the tiniest bit of information about the secrets that motivated their reading choices. This was one of his few strong points in conversations with friends. Who would have guessed that Loe Vinyaki, the war minister’s melancholy and unapproachable senior assistant, was a secret fan of the poems of Ulinian poetess Levia Sui, and that he owned a complete collection of her lyrics on unrequited love? Or that the successful merchant Kramath Segnoe, a handsome ladies’ man, had read everything the archive contained on remedies for better virility? On the other hand, no one was surprised to learn that Licisium Dorgoe, one of the Emperor’s closest and most beloved advisors, filled his reports with quotes Uni had taken for him from ancient works on the art of governance.

      Manelius Ronko stood out from the rest of the courtiers. For one thing, he always came to the archive in person. He also declined the services of the archive’s scribes, instead sequestering himself with whatever scrolls he had requested. Uni was the only archive employee who was fortunate enough to find his favor. Having read much more than his job required, he could immediately direct Ronko to the information he needed in almost any section of the archive.

      Once a manuscript was found, Ronko had a strange manner of reading it: he seemed to suck out the information without paying any attention to the order of the chapters or pages. Ronko gave the impression that he was displeased with how the authors presented the information he wanted, and he seemed to be building a virtual archive of his own where everything was organized in what he took to be the most natural order. His curiosity ranged from travelers’ descriptions of far-off countries to recipes for making poisons, and from the finer points of administration in pre-imperial Herandia to the latest tracts on architecture. At one point, it occurred to Uni that Ronko reminded him of himself (or of the man he could become in thirty years, given the right circumstances). Could he become that man? He had no idea. While the archive might be just another extravagant hobby or a pleasant waste of time for Ronko, for Uni it was the only work he was capable of getting after graduating from the academy without any other prospects.

      When they were finally alone, Ronko turned to him and spoke, his voice smooth and sophisticated. “My dear friend, I know we have spoken of this before, but please remind me: do you truly have a strong interest in Virilan? Your gray-haired master has indicated that you do. Barko left me speechless when he told me that he and yourself are the only two people in the empire who know the Virilan language.”

      Ronko ignored the only chair in the alcove and stared down at Uni from his much greater height. His expression was obliging and yet sharp, perhaps due to the unusual shape of his handsome eyes, which slanted down toward the bridge of his nose, especially when his cheek muscles tensed in a smile. At such moments, his face took on the aspect of a theatrical mask, both kind and frightening at the same time.

      Uni clasped his hands on his stomach, took a deep breath, and gathered his thoughts in order to answer as clearly and concisely as possible.

      “Yes, you are correct. I should say,” he hastened to add, “that my knowledge of the language is very limited and cannot be compared to that of Enel Barko. He is the one who taught me everything he knows. He showed me rare books and helped me find what I needed in them. Senior master Barko is most certainly the greatest scholar of Virilan in the empire, of that you can be sure!”

      “I give you credit for your modesty,” Ronko said. He bowed his head and closed his eyes for an instant. “But that is not what is required now. The Emperor needs a person who can provide him with a brief but detailed report on Virilan and its residents, their form of governance, and their customs. In short, enough information so that a person who knows nothing of the subject can quickly gain full knowledge of that geographical enigma without becoming overly fatigued by the reading of the report.