Heart's tale

Chapter 1 part 1

A brush of orange peel colored the southern peaks of the Usurper's Palace and, in its hurry, ran down into the residential quarters, where the fading chill of the night mist still rested on the spires. Reflecting in the open windows and filling the arched vaults, it jumped from the signs to the tin pipes and flags of the big market. As if tasting other colors and shades, it refracted in the mosaics of the Old Quarter and finally reached the back courtyards of the lower tier, falling in sparse drops on a corpse lying in the Alley of the Blind.

"Why should we be the ones to clean up the dead?" the fat guard frowned. "It's not our turn today."

His tall, thin colleague made no sign that he had heard his companion. He continued to study the sheet taken from the dead man's hands and muttered to himself:

"This is a page from a prohibited book..."

"From a book?" the fat man said in surprise, rising on his toes to look into the hands of his taller colleague.

"Will enslaving potion," read the tall guard.

"It's all written in weird heretical squiggles."

"Dummy, there's a pencil translation in the margin."

"Oh, I don't like where this is going, Ruchi," the fat man closed his eyes, "Heart forbid if anyone finds out you had that stuff in your hands."

"That's why we have to get rid of him quickly," nodded the tall one. "Grab his legs, Blop, let's carry him to the canal."

Rare drops of light overtook the guards, reaching the once red door at the corner of the canal and the Alley of the Blind and dropping into a room that looked more like a mechanic's warehouse. The rays stained the dust soaring over the old wooden bed, bounced off the copper pipe, and landed in the visor of a doll hanging on an old hook by the door. Like a flicker it ran through the hangers and buckles of the work belts, staining the steel springs. It wandered briefly through several glass flasks and found itself right in the eye of the Magister, junior technician Wolfie.

Galahad Wolfie, a legend among the whole Magistrate, sat down on the bed. He yawned widely with his toothless mouth and raked his hand across the bald head that stretched from his large, wrinkled forehead to the top of his head, framed by a gray pile of hair. His eyes, half-closed with heavy lids, swept the room and caught his reflection in the bulky flask that swelled up on the desk. The Magister immediately made a face at himself.

"Gooth mornin!" he mumbled and glanced at the doll hanging on the wall, but it said nothing.

Galahad determinately shook off the drowsiness, stirred up the frozen dust, grunted, and rolled off the bed onto the wooden floor. Then he sat up a few times and stretched his arm and leg muscles, yawning long and hard.

Outside the window, there was a rustling sound and the smell of spices, but Wolfie had already slammed the door and creaked the steps as he descended the frail wooden stairs to the ground floor, which sagged even under his old man's weight. The water in the small bathroom rattled against the metal trough. "Hmm. Tell me, dear Magister Wolfie, how many heads has Samarius chopped off?" he asked in an acerbic voice, fixing his barely-inserted jaw and heading for the kitchen. "Two thousand and forty-two... I can say it again to you. Two thousand and forty-two," he answered himself gloomily in a sad tone as he put yesterday's porridge on the cooker. "Remind me, how many junior technicians were there?" the acerbic voice clarified again, turning on the gas heater that instantly heated the cast-iron pot. "None," sadly stated the sad one, scooping up the porridge and pouring it onto his plate. "What about the senior technicians?" "Five." "And the superintendents?" "Twelve." "And the foremen?"

"I'm sleepy," the Magister put in unexpectedly, sitting down at the metal table.

"Don't interrupt!" the acerbic one became angry, scooping up his porridge. "Seventy-one," continued the sad one, blowing on his spoon. "Dear Galahad, you do have an innate ability for counting and an excellent memory for dead people!" laughed the Magister and shoved the spoon into his mouth.