The House, Chapter 2—Assembly, Part 1

Chapter 2—Assembly, Part 1

Tayl looked past the dark glass spheres suspended from the intricate metal bands to the darkening sky beyond the Archives’ glass dome, six stories above.

He shouldn’t be here. 

And not only because he had had little choice in the matter, but of where exactly the passage had taken him. The echowell in the Archives’ auditorium had been dormant for millennia. So long, in fact, that scholars during Amik’s time at the House had raised doubts it had ever been bound to the time tides. If anyone saw him here, not calling attention to himself would no longer be an option. He moved but barely made it halfway up the tiered seats when a figure passed behind the open door to the lobby. The woman stopped to pull a formal robe over her slate-blue trousers and high-neck top, then caught sight of him coming up the aisle and narrowed her eyes. 

‘Why are you still here?’

That, Tayl thought, was a good question. A sentiment obviously shared by the woman who added, ‘The reading room is closed for the assembly tonight. Which is about to start, and you are not in uniform.’ She spoke in accented Anglaise, her tone slightly harassed. 

‘I am looking for the Admission,’ Tayl said.

‘The Admission is closed.’ She fastened her collar, revealing the three copper rings marking her as the Head Archiva. ‘Which you would know if …’ she trailed off and took in his appearance. The well-worn anorak and leather boots he had worn when he had left Lakeside with Eass had seen better times.

‘Did you just arrive?’ She asked, her tone now suspicious. 

Tayl nodded and bowed ‘Tayl Bergin, Archiva.’ 

The formal address earned him a weary smile. ‘Liran Martim. Where is your mentor?’

‘He is unable to attend.’

‘The assembly or your admission hearing?’

‘Both.’

Martim raised her brows and asked, ‘Your mentor sent you to apply to the Admission Board without him? Today?’

An application to the Admission Board without a mentor was unusual, but not unheard of, and Tayl preferred Martim to focus on the when rather than the how or where of his sudden appearance.

When he said nothing, Martim asked, ‘Remembrance Day?’

He shook his head.

‘You don’t know?’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Who is your mentor?’

‘Marcus Amik.’ Tayl drew out Amik’s token and offered it to Martim.

Both Graphyn and Amik had mentored Tayl much as a House mentor would have, but while the House had exiled Graphyn, the role would list Amik as retired, and his name, even after his decade-long absence, might still be remembered.

‘That is—’ Martim paused, tracing Amik’s signet on the token with her thumb. ‘—if not impossible, hard to believe.’ She looked up. ‘Marcus Amik hasn’t been seen or heard of in three decades.’

Martim looked to be in her forties, young to hold one of the most prestigious positions at the House, and too young to have met Amik in person.

Her terminal pinged with an incoming message. She looked at the screen, then gave him a hard look. ‘We have to continue this conversation later. The assembly is about to open. Administrator Poul will be there, and I will talk to him. You can wait in the public gallery.’

Tayl was about to thank her, but Martim cut him off with a shake of her head. ‘I am not making any promises. The Administrator is as likely to throw you out as to grant you a hearing.’ She gestured to the gate. ‘This way.’

The sky above Founder’s Square, the House’s central precinct, had darkened with the incoming night, but Tayl could make out most of the buildings circling the wide open space. To their right sat the Lacier Faculty and the Old Chancellery. To their left, the Faculty of Technology and the engineering workshops, followed by the Administration. In front, the echowell pavilion, and half-hidden behind it, the Rath’s Hall on the far side of the square.

They had just joined the crowd heading towards the brightly lit Hall, when the group in front of them split to let through a woman coming towards them, everyone seemingly keen to get out of her way.

Martim muttered something about ‘the last thing she needed,’ then whispered to Tayl, ‘I find the best approach in dealing with the Auditor is to let her make her own assumptions. Talk as little as possible.’

She faced the woman with a polite smile, placing herself slightly in front of Tayl to block him from view.

‘Auditor Lasell.’

‘Martim.’ The word was laced with practised dismissal. ‘Have you seen Poul? I must talk to him.’

Lasell wore a stark, form-fitting suit of garnet red, a colour Tayl couldn’t match to a faculty.

‘The Senior Administrator—’ Martim’s tone made it clear that she didn’t appreciate the way Lasell had addressed her or referred to Poul ‘—is on his way to the assembly.’

‘This can’t wait. You are representing Attendant Tolman in the disciplinary hearing tomorrow?’ Lasell asked, but didn’t wait for an answer before adding, ‘We need to reschedule. My office needs more time to make our case.’

‘Disciplinary hearings fall under the jurisdiction of the Administration, so you need to—’

‘Why are you not in uniform?’ Lasell interrupted her. She had spotted Tayl, and her lips curled with instant disapproval.

‘Applicant—’ Martim paused and Tayl added, ‘—Bergin.’ Martim seamlessly continued, ‘—arrived today.’

‘Why wasn’t I informed?’

‘It’s been a busy day, as you can imagine. I will send the paperwork to the Admission after the assembly.’

‘Why hasn’t his mentor presented the application?’

‘He is unable to travel—’

‘You can’t present an applicant to the Admission Board without a mentor.’

Martim leaned the slightest bit forward. She was a head taller than the Auditor, and even though there was nothing threatening in the gesture, Lasell stiffened.

‘I can and I will. Every protégé may request a hearing—’

‘—which the Admission will deny,’ Lasell interrupted.

But Martim continued, ‘—for the Admission to consider.’

Tayl felt as if he was part of a carefully arranged play to which no one had given him the script, nor did anyone seem to expect him to be anything more than a silent bystander.

‘So this is what?’ Lasell snapped. ‘One of your lost causes?’

A young man hurrying towards them spared Martim a response.

‘Auditor Lasell, my apologies, but you are expected at the assembly.’

Martim nodded to the newcomer. ‘Managing Assistant Amry. Auditor Lasell, we can—’

‘What about Tolman’s hearing?’ Lasell interrupted her again.

‘It will take place tomorrow.’

‘This is not acceptable.’

‘The Administration confirmed the date, but I will make sure your concerns are added to the record.’ Martim turned to Tayl. ‘We should go.’

She inclined her head to Lasell, then stepped around her.

Lasell looked ready to block her path, when Amry leaned forward and whispered something in her ear.

Martim took the opportunity to rejoin the attendants and staff heading towards the Hall. Tayl followed her, casting a glance back. Lasell was talking to Amry, her expression furious. But Amry wasn’t looking at her—his eyes remained on Tayl as if he was trying to remember where he had seen him before.

Martim steered them to one side of the dense crowd blocking the access to the Rath’s main gate. Above their heads, the pale stone of the hall’s colonnade gleamed against the darkening sky. The tall pillars supported the famous dome, its copper alloy cladding and circling spires glowing in the last light.

‘I would apologise for the Auditor,’ Martim said. ‘But apologising for Lasell is as pointless as talking to her. However, she gave me an idea.’

She led Tayl up the stairs to the peristyle, and down a covered walkway to a side entrance. Inside, they walked past the doors to the main floor and took the staircase to the public galleries. The first landing led them onto a wide balcony. It provided ample space for the public to observe regular Rath sessions, but an assembly meant there was standing room only.

While Martim leaned over the railing, looking at the two upper galleries, Tayl took in the Rath’s main floor. Rows of benches curved around a central dais where a dozen high-backed chairs were arranged to either side of a lectern. Most seats on the floor had been taken, but a few people still stood in groups, talking in hushed voices.

Martim turned to Tayl. ‘I found someone to keep you company, but we’ll have to climb to the top balcony.’

They passed only a few people on the stairs, and the narrower top gallery was almost empty.

‘Attendant Tolman. I had hoped to find you here.’

The young man thus addressed turned and raised an eyebrow. ‘You told me to keep a low profile.’

‘I did, but I wasn’t expecting you to listen.’ She gestured to Tayl. ‘This is Applicant Bergin. He arrived today and already drew the ire of the Auditor. You two will get along splendidly and shall keep each other company.’ She turned to Tayl before Tolman could get a word in and added, ‘I have to take my seat. Please remain with Attendant Tolman until I return.’

And with that, she was gone.

‘Is Lasell now waylaying new applicants?’

Attendant Tolman was about his age and wore the dark grey uniform Tayl had seen on other attendants.

Tayl shook his head. ‘We ran into the Auditor on the way to the Hall.’

‘Bad luck.’ Tolman held out a hand. ‘I’m Em.’

It took Tayl a second to remember that he was supposed to shake. ‘Tayl.’

‘You arrived today?’

Tayl nodded. His encounter with Lasell had proven how much he didn’t know about the current affairs at the House, and he asked, ‘The Archiva and the Auditor didn’t seem to like each other?’

Em snorted. ‘All the senior faculty staff hate her.’ He gestured to the people assembling in the Hall. ‘She wouldn’t even be here without all this.’

‘Why the assembly?’ Tayl asked.

‘Remembrance Day.’ Em’s expression mirrored Martim’s disbelieve when Tayl said nothing. ‘You don’t know?’

Tayl shrugged and said, ‘I have been shipwrecked on an island.’

‘For how long?’

‘Fourteen years.’

‘That is a long time to be cut off.’ 

When Tayl only shrugged again, Em added, ‘A breach caused the roof of the Old Chancellery to collapse five years ago. More than a hundred people died.’

That explained the assembly, but not the tension between Lasell and Martim. Tayl looked down at the floor. Martim talked to an older man leaning on a cane. His sage-grey robe identified him as a member of the Administration. 

‘Senior Administrator Adrin Poul.’ Em had followed Tayl’s gaze. ‘He speaks for the Administration. The woman next to him is Lacier Faculty Speaker Sanit Soreman.’

He gestured to a woman in Lacier Faculty’s pale blue who had joined Poul and Martim. Tayl had the distinct feeling that they were talking about him. 

‘What happened after the breach?’ he asked.

‘My mentor told me that it was pure chaos. People left, including senior staff. Poul and Soreman organised the emergency response with then-Rath Speaker Anar, while he—’ Em pointed to a broad man clad in off-white, standing with his back to the dais ‘—saw his chance to gain political influence.’

‘Who is he?’

‘Augustine Trent. Chair of the RISE board. He will stop at nothing to get a seat on that dais. The independent inquest was his idea.’ Em’s emphasis made it clear that he thought the inquest had been anything but independent. ‘As was the idea to install an auditor to provide’—Em drew air quotes—‘much-needed oversight.’

As if on cue, Lasell joined Trent. They exchanged a few words, then both took a seat on the front bench. Martim looked up to the gallery, then nodded to Poul and Soreman and stepped off the dais.

‘Trent bought the inquest’s panel with promises of grants and sponsorships,’ Em continued. ‘And it promptly blamed Anar and the Administration and their lack of leadership for the breach. Speaker Anar left a day after the inquest presented its findings. Nobody knows why. She wasn’t the type to throw in the towel. Now no one can get the required votes to replace her.’

‘The Rath is without a Speaker?’ Tayl asked.

Em nodded. 

A century ago the faculties and the administration had overthrown the last Chancellor, claiming they had held too much power, and elected a Rath Speaker who could be replaced by a majority vote.

A bell rang, calling the assembly to order. The few people still standing took their seats. The bell rang again. Poul stood and took to the lectern, asking for a moment of silence to honour the lives lost. The audience obliged but stirred when the bell rang a third time two minutes later and Auditor Lasell took to the lectern.

She gave a curt nod to Poul, then launched into a speech with the attitude of a diver not planning to resurface for breath any time soon.

‘I am honoured to lead this assembly. Today, the House remembers the lives we lost this day five years ago in a cowardly attack that was supposed to bring down this once-great institution…’

Em pushed away from the railing. ‘I can’t listen to this.’

‘I know the feeling,’ Martim said from behind them. ‘Luckily for you, the Administrator suggested you take Applicant Bergin to the Old Attaché Quarters, and the sooner we get both of you out of Lasell’s sight, the better.’

‘The Attaché Quarters?’ Em asked.

Martim nodded. ‘You have been hiding there for years, and Applicant Bergin does not seem the type to squirm at vintage-style accommodation.’

‘Applicant?’ Tayl asked.

Martim gave a brief smile. ‘The Admission will hear your case tomorrow. Now go. Both of you.’

The Attaché Quarters were tucked in amidst the storehouses and offices facing the thoroughfare between the Old Chancellery and Lacier Faculty, a ten minute walk from the Rath’s Hall. The greenish-blue patina on the facade made it impossible to guess the original make or colour, and the impressive but worn entrance opened barely a handspan when Em tapped the control. He gave the panel a sideways shove, and it slit open with a squeal. Tayl followed him through a dimly lit hallway into a central atrium.

‘We are up top.’ Em pointed to the highest balcony circling the glass-covered court.

He tapped the scratched reception terminal next to the elevator. The dim display flickered and went dark. Em sighed, pulled the loose screen off its housing, expertly tucked in a wire, and returned the screen to its place. The terminal lit up and asked for a reservation number.

‘We are the only guests,’ Em said while he tapped numbers into the keypad. ‘The Chancellery used the building as guest quarters, but it’s been empty for decades. After the breach, RISE offered to tear it down to build more of their smart cubes, but the Administration is still upset that they demolished most of what remained of the Old Chancellery to build their new campus and insisted on the building’s historical value.’

The terminal pinged, and the turnstile blocking the elevator’s metal cage slid aside. 

‘Where do the other applicant stay?’ Tayl asked.

‘With their mentors. Most attendants and staff rent apartments in town or live in faculty accommodations.’

The elevator creaked past the lower balconies and stopped at the top.

Em pointed to their right. ‘Sirem and I are in 5C. His family is loaded, but I hardly can keep up with the fees as they are, and I know somebody in the Administration who lets us stay here for free.’

He pointed across the atrium. ‘If I were you, I’d stay in 5L. 5G is bigger, but the views in 5L are better. He gave Tayl’s pack a skeptical look. ‘Let me know if you need anything. The rooms all have ensuites. Power and water are in more or less working order, but the showers in the steam bath opposite the elevator are the most reliable. 

Em stopped in front of a door, a pad proclaiming it as 5C. ‘This is us. Can your terminal connect to the House network?’

Tayl shook his head. He had to leave his terminal and anything else using Arc technology behind. 

‘I have an old spare. I’ll bring it over. Check out 5L and see if you like it. It’s six doors further along.’ 

Tayl hesitated, but Em had vanished through the door before he could decline, and Tayl needed a terminal to prepare for his interview.

The door to 5L opened at his touch, and a light sprang to life as he crossed the threshold. The apartment was a comfortable size. He removed the sheet covering the bed. It didn’t fall apart under his weight, and the mattress was dry and firm. He removed the rest of the covers to reveal a small sofa, a writing desk and chair, and an inbuilt wardrobe. The ensuite had a shower cubicle, a basin, and a toilet. 

Em came in, a hand-sized terminal in his hand. ‘You can only access the public feeds until you get your House account.’

‘Thank you, I appreciate all your help.’

Em smiled. ‘No worries. I’d do anything to annoy Lasell.’ 

He left Tayl to his own devices with another nod, and Tayl sat on the bed. The terminal was a nano glass rectangle in a polymer case. The frame was scratched and spattered in what looked like paint, and Em had clearly tinkered with the ports. He touched the screen, and found an open text file. 

‘I am honoured to lead this assembly. Today, the House remembers the lives we lost …’

The text was an annotated copy of Lasell’s speech, Em’s copious notes contradicting most of what she had written, providing links to various sources. The RISE foundation led a faction aiming to reinstate the position of a chancellor; an idea the administration and faculties strongly opposed, and even before the breach, Trent and Anar had been at each other’s throats for years. What should have been a fact-finding investigation became a political gambit. The panel focused on the safety of the building—who had paid for what and when, who knew what or when—not about what or who caused the breach.

Tayl placed the terminal on the nightstand and emptied his pack, organising his belongings on the bed: a change of clothes, his travel kit, the notebooks Graphyn had given him. He let his fingers trail over the blank pages, and Niuen’s tight handwriting appeared. The notebooks contained Niuen’s evidence against Darien Gwyston, her research on the divide and its consequences, and her more speculative theories on the House’s foundation. Her encryption keys were together with her token in the pouch around his neck. 

Tayl sighed and pulled his anorak over his head. How any of it would help him to find out how far Graphyn’s influence had spread at the House, eluded him. A small red ball dropped onto the bed. He picked it up and unrolled a handspan of the wool. Eass must have slipped it back into his pocket before she had left. The thread curled as if it still remembered the knit of his scarf before Eass had unravelled it, as she had so much else in his life. He had known her for barely a week, and for most of that week, they had argued. Until they hadn’t. 

He rewound the thread and set the ball onto the nightstand. 

What he needed was a long shower.

The shower in the ensuite dried up after a few drops. 

Tayl felt a surprising urge to kick something, but instead grabbed his towel and went in search of the steam bath.

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