Dream d2895-s: The Lantern and the Blade

I had a dream where...

I had a dream where the terrace corner was lit by a single lantern and the hills beyond the rail were just visible as a dark line against the darker sky. Lano sat close to my boot, her nose moving. The Keeper of Faces had the tools open on the narrow table: a bone-handled blade, a block of pale material I could not name, and a cloth folded once. The Charter lay to one side under a stone, its seven rulings facing up.

The result had come in from the Trial Recorder. Eight trials run, four passed. The order in question was the one the house called the Order of Sustained Lead, and the station closed to this guest was the station of First Coordination. The Keeper read the tally aloud without inflection, set the paper down flat, and said only: the measure moved.

I watched them pick up the blade. The old face had been fitted two seasons back, when the trial count stood at six of eight. That face said: trusted to lead at this station. The new count said four of eight, and the station was no longer open. Those were the only facts on the table. The Keeper did not explain them and I did not ask.

The re-cutting took a long time. I stood at the corner of the terrace with my pen ready, recording each pass of the blade as a stroke in the margin of the night's tally. Lano did not move, only pressed a little harder against my boot. Somewhere behind us, between the door and the rail, I heard a soft weight land and then silence: Rurik had come out to the terrace and taken a position somewhere above us. I did not look. The Keeper did not look. We kept to the work.

When the new face was finished the Keeper set it beside the old one and read both aloud by shape, not by name. The guest was not present. The guest would receive only the station's status, which was closed, and the trial result, which was four of eight. The nine hundred and fifteen medals on nineteen coats were unaffected and unalterable. The new face said something different from those medals. The house recorded the disagreement and did not resolve it.

I wrote the final line in the margin: face re-cut on measure, night five, order eight, tally four of eight. The Keeper folded the old face into the cloth, closed the cloth, and set it in the box where all the retired faces go. The lantern was still burning. The hills were still there on the horizon.

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