Aragon Masks. Inga Soborova

Respected and feared very much.

      I’d like to talk to him. After all, he’s seen other people’s faces. Dead, of course. Kind of scary to go to him. Will he talk to me? Maybe he’s already mad about his position. I’ll look in his window. Is he at home?

      Glory to the First Ones! He stands in front of the mirror without his mask. He’s drawn the curtains, but there’s a slit left. Now I’m even more afraid. He put the mask on. I’ll knock.

      Priest:

      I began to think. Maybe we don’t need masks at all. I was thinking that if I died, no one would know that the mask was useless. I should tell someone. They will put on a closed mask. The key goes in the lake. It’s the worst thing for me, now I know that it only obstructs me.

      Aragon:

      The Priest opened the door for me. He let me in. He stands. Silent. I must have tied my mask badly. I bowed to the Priest. And the mask fell off me. I picked up the mask and wanted to put it on. But the Priest stopped me. Came close. Looking at my face without the mask. I thought he’d call for the convoy.

      But the Priest says, By the power vested in me, Glory to the First Ones, I command you, come to the mirror. Behold your face. The time has come!»

      I came to the mirror. I forgot that I had to pretend to see my face for the first time. I stood there and looked. The Priest realized it wasn’t the first time I’d looked in the mirror. I felt I had not come to him in vain. I stand before him without a mask. I look into his eyes. I see he’s crying.

      «I’ve seen you through your window. I’ve seen you looking in the mirror,» said I.

      The Priest took off his mask. And then it was so funny to both of us. We both fell down laughing. Good thing the curtains on the windows were well drawn. Since then, I began to visit the Priest often.

      Old Maskmaker:

      I began to make Masks of the Firsts. Somehow my feet took me to the quarry. I found two stone blanks. Took them home. Started making them. It was as if I was back in my fantasies. My hands, as if they were making the masks themselves. I only watch.

      Aragon:

      I come to visit the Priest, and on calls, too. I began to accompany him. He needs support, I am just curious. When he changed the Mask of Life into a death mask, everyone who was there turned away. I did not. I looked at the dead man. His face was exactly like mine and the Priest’s. Only pale. And his eyes are closed.

      That’s the news!

      Old Maskmaker is dead. Now all the masks he has in his house, by law, will be brought to the Priest’s house. And he’ll put them on for whoever needs them. Until all the masks run out.

      Helped the Priest move the masks from the house of the old Maskmaker. Glory to the First. What I found in his bags in his room! Away from the shelves with the masks, these bags laid. The Masks of the Firsts were there!

      We took them to the Priest’s house. I dread even thinking what would happen if anyone found out. And the Priest, though he’s old, he’s funny. And brave. «Come on, try the Masks of the First Ones,» he says. I even got scared at first.

      We got these masks of stone. It’s hot all around, but the masks are as cold as ice. Leather straps instead of ropes. Where did the old Maskmaker get them? Did he make them? Glory to the First Ones!

      Old Woman:

      A great holiday is coming up. The Day of the Firsts. According to the calendar, on this day hundreds of years ago, the Firsts left us. Now once a year, at the foot of Salt Mountain, we wait for them.

      As a child, I was very afraid to go to this festival. Between Salt Mountain and the stone First Ones is a huge bonfire. The crowd. All the people of the town are at the bonfire. Those who can not walk, they are brought. Children with babies in their arms. No one must stay in the city. Whoever has a cracked or broken mask is thrown into the fire. The masks burst with different colors in the fire.

      They say if the mask flashes yellow in the fire, it means a good man wore it. If it’s green, he’s cheerful. If red, that person’s love is strong. But if smoke goes black from the mask and sparks, then evil thoughts of the one who wore it. People see all this. They are silent.

      If the mask is cracked, only into the fire on the First Day. If you bury it in the ground or hide it somewhere, all the worst that has been and will be will happen at once.

      I feel if the Firsts come back, changes might happen. I’m afraid to think about it. I don’t want it to happen on my time.

      It’s getting dark. All the people of the city are slowly making their way to the bonfire. I came before the others. I have plenty of time. And I love this holiday. It’s beautiful. The priest stands by the fire. In front of the face of the Stone Firsts.

      Whoever brings a cracked mask, gives it to the Priest first. And goes back to his place. The Priest shouts loudly, «Glory to the First Ones!» And the mask goes into the fire. I almost cried then.

      The fire burns. The flames are higher than the Firsts. That never happened before. The priest is gone.

      What is it!!! The first ones are back! I can’t get off my knees. Glory to the First Ones!

      The First Ones:

      Here we are, all who waited for our return. All of you have honored the law. The day of the Great Change has come. By the power of the First, today at the Great Fire, under the city wall, each of you must remove the mask in front of the oldest Mirror, that of the city orphanage. Behold your face and throw the mask into the fire.

      Those who have taken off the mask, have seen their face, and have not overcome their horror, can put on the mask again. And exactly one year later, repeat this trial.

      Those who comply with the order and remove their masks forever leave the Old City. Just beyond the city wall, you must build a New City.

      Each year, on the Day of the Firsts, this trial will take place again. Until not a single inhabitant of the Old City wears the mask. Then the wall between the Old City and the New City will be destroyed.

      Aragon:

      That is how it turned out, as I intended. The city now consists of two parts. Every year, some of the inhabitants move to the New City. Fewer and fewer people remain in the Old City. The postmasters of the Old and New City put letters in the hole in the wall every day. It has become easier for criminals to escape legal punishment. Underneath the wall in secret places are undermines. In the subterranean tunnels are rooms underground. They contain masks, weapons, and food. They go in and out now.

      Old men are the only ones left in the Old City. Old men are always the most obedient to the law. It’s hard for them, but every year they come to the mirror in the square

      Old Woman:

      I was alone in the city. I was lonely as it was. I’ve been lonely as it is. The law is the law. Though it’s not easy for me, the law is the law. Several times on the First Day I wanted to pass the trial. I’m in the mirror now. Now I’ve taken off my mask. But I can’t open my eyes. I remember when I opened my eyes, I don’t know what I had seen. At home, I only woke up in my mask again. I must not be destined to go to the New City.

      Aragon:

      The last Priest is dead. The City of Masks does not exist. An old woman lives there.

      I’m leaving this place today. I wandered the streets of the Old City. The orphanage where my childhood was spent. Old Maskmaker’s house. Salt Mountain. Stone of the Firsts. Mirror. Leaving. I will look from afar at the walls of the Old Town. There is a sentry on the wall.

      Shouting something. I hear it, «The Old Woman is dead!»

      SWAN