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 archives 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. Barko told me that you might be that person.
Me? Uni squeaked in dismay. No, of course I am flattered to hear his excellent opinion of me, although Im sure I havent earned it, but I cant
Can you read primary sources? Ronko pressed on, ignoring his self-deprecation.
Of course, the young man brightened. Studying history without primary sources would be like singing a song without words. Virilan is nothing but history. It has no present, at least for us. The country is closed. His words came faster. Nobody knows what their current state of affairs is. You must know that they only trade with the Capotians who have just one small trading post on the coast. They have only limited contact with outsiders.
So thats what you will be writing about, Ronko said. He ran his index finger along a shelf of books just so that he could demonstratively blow the ancient dust from his finger. But heres my advice. Dont write in Virilan, or else you will forget what you are doing and no one will be able to read it.
Uni smiled at the unexpected joke and began to relax.
Tell me one more thing, my friend, Ronko continued his questioning. Have you ever attempted to speak Virilan? He paused. But of course you havent. There is no one for you to speak with here. And nothing to speak of. I keep forgetting that Virilan is a dead language, at least as far as we are concerned.
Why not? Uni burst out. Sometimes senior master Barko speaks to me about interesting passages from the ancient texts. And sometimes Iwell, when you read those old histories, you cant help but imagine the wars and the old heroes. You imagine what it would be like to be one of their wise men, or their commanders, or their lords
Do you mean to tell me that you read their dialogues aloud? Like a shadow theater in the bowels of the imperial archive? How very interesting!
Uni felt himself blush to the tips of his ears, but there was no retreat. And he didnt want to retreat. The unexpected proposal was much too exciting for that.
Its not as odd as you think. You see, when the Virilans conquered the Five Kingdoms four hundred years ago, all the people who refused to accept their rule sailed away to the four corners, including our Empire. They were soon absorbed by the Empire, and the few books they brought with them are all we know about the country, its residents, and their language.
Im not casting doubt on your methods of study. That very fact may come in useful. He looked closely at Uni. I had no idea that this meeting would be such a success!
I will do everything I can to deserve your trust. When does the document need to be ready?
Noon tomorrow would be perfect, Ronko said with a shrug, his eyes wandering over the shelves.
For an instant, Uni felt as if his heart and the rest of his organs had fallen to his feet. What? Noon tomorrow? His voice came from somewhere near his feet, too.
Of course, Ronko sighed. Now you see how lucky I am that you will be taking care of this for me. He snapped his fingers. Indeed, if the Heavenly Lord decides your fate, he is capable of leading you over a bridge as thin as a hair.
Of course, it was Unis turn to mumble. His face reflected none of his illustrious companions pleasure. Have no fear, the report will be ready on time, and it will be quite complete, he added with weak enthusiasm that fizzled as he exhaled.
Excellent. I wont keep you. Until tomorrow. Ronko was delighted, like a child who has been given a long-awaited gift. Normally, Uni would have found his reaction amusing, but not today.
His client disappeared around the corner and Uni was left leaning against the stacks, desperately trying to wrap his mind around the tragedy and the challenge of the moment. Why did fate choose to mock him even as it delivered a rare prize into his hands? After a long four years of pointless work in the archive, someone at the court had finally noticed his talent. This could be his one chance to break out of the archives dingy basement and prove himself in an important matter. If he did well, perhaps with time he would be offered a serious position, one where he would not be treated as an errand boy, instead issuing orders to a staff of his own. Why did this much-anticipated opportunity have to show up just in time to prevent him from achieving success in another, no less important, area of his life? Why were all his friends and acquaintances seemingly able to combine their careers and their private lives, while he had to sacrifice one or the other?