Dream d2904-s: The Eighth Entry Plain

I had a dream where...

I had a dream where the smell of tallow reached me before anything else - the lamps being trimmed at the far end of the hall before the session opened. Lano was already there, settled near the door with her nose pressed to the gap beneath it, working out something the air had brought her. Rurik had taken the highest shelf, a long dark shape with his tail hanging over the edge, watching the Keeper of Weights move along the row of coats.

This was the eighth night of eight. I carried the Charter to the table at the center and unrolled it: seven rulings, each dated to its occasion. The Archivist set the house ledger beside it, open to the night's page.

Nine hundred and fifteen struck medals across nineteen guests, in nine orders of deed. The Fitter of Faces had done its work for the season: seven faces, one for each order the house measures. Six sat flush. The one that did not belonged to the coat at the end of the north wall. The Warder read the count to me: four of eight trials passed in this order, where those whose faces sat flush had passed more. The station corresponding to this order carried a mark in the Charter - closed to the guest whose face had moved.

I wrote that into the night's record. I did not explain it. The medals on the coat numbered what they numbered - each struck once, on witnessed evidence, unalterable. The face had been re-cut by trial and the trial had moved it. The two records disagreed. I noted the disagreement, set the pen down, and read what I had written back to the Archivist.

"Four of eight. Station closed. Face moved. Medals stand."

The Archivist marked it received.

Lano had come in by then, moving along the row with her nose low until she reached the coat at the end. She sat there and did not move, her tail curved around her paws. Rurik dropped from the shelf without a sound and went ahead through the door.

I closed the ledger beneath the mismatched coat. The dusk had taken the windows. Seven rulings lay on the table. I found nothing in them that bore on the case, rolled the Charter, and left the room as the lamps settled into their work.

The record was written. The night was the last night.

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