Diamond Eyes - 4. Chapter 4

Vanus left Nora’s feeling an uneasiness that followed them all the way to the cafe. He thanked Mr. Fritz for buying his new outfit and was truly grateful; never before had he worn such comfortable well-fitting clothes. And yet even in this place, amongst others like him, he’d never felt more different. More alone. He feared this feeling of alienation would stalk him even in his new life.

They sat at tables with white tablecloths and lit candles. A man in a white apron handed them menus printed on parchment. The patrons were all impeccably dressed, the men in suits, the women in dresses. Vanus felt as if his own clothes were sticking to him. The silverware was placed in order from left to right based on what course they were meant for: soup, salad, entree. Vanus tasted wine for the first time, surprised by its level of tartness. Mr. Fritz continued his verbal tirade unabated, always gesturing with his hands, or tapping away at something with his fingers.

Van puzzled over the menu, beginning to feel increasingly overwhelmed. Nothing on the menu appeared familiar after a lifetime of eating the same tepid porridge and tough bread. At last, he looked up helplessly at Mr. Fritz and muttered, "I don't know what to order."

Mr. Fritz's mustache twitched. "Whatever you want, m'dear boy; it's my treat."

Vanus could contain his frustration no longer. He resisted the urge to fling the menu on the floor in disgust. "I don't know what any of this is. I haven't exactly been introduced to many foods. The orphanage has always had a very limited budget."

Mr. Fritz jowls dropped, turning a bright shade of red. "You must think I'm a terrible fool. I keep forgetting how little of the world you've been exposed to."¹

“I know plenty about the world, Mr. Fitzgerald. It’s just the part I grew up in is very different from yours.”

Before long the table was covered in silver-topped platters brought to them on a cart. Whatever inhibitions Vanus had had at the start of this meal vanished with the first bite as he gorged himself on whatever he could reach: roasted chicken rubbed with garlic and rosemary; buttered potatoes, steamed vegetables, and buttered bread that was soft and easy to chew. Once the dishes were clear, Mr. Fritz leaned back in his chair, looking satisfied. Most of the patrons who’d been in the establishment when they arrived had left. “Now that I’ve eaten, I feel better. I don’t like to work on an empty stomach. Indulge me for a moment if you will, Vanus. What do you know about the current state of things here in the city? Apart from the mauler plague of course.”

“Mostly just what I hear from the sailors at the port,” said Vanus. “The island is ruled by two institutions of government, the Theocracy and the Imperium. I’ve always been under the impression they don’t like each other very much because of their difference in doctrine. The Theocracy worship the Seraphim, the Imperium the Rephaim. That covers the extent of what I know.”

“You know more than I would have guessed,” Mr. Fritz said, impressed. “However, the difference in their philosophy goes deeper than who they worship; their whole ideology could not be more different.”

"You mean apart from the fact that both think their beliefs are the right one and the other's is completely wrong?" Vanus said flatly.

Mr. Fritz chortled. "You can be quite witty when you're not brooding.

"Years of gambling has taught me it's never good to reveal all the cards in your hands at once."

"The Imperium will love you. There are several people who are very eager to meet you, so we must be on our way. We aren't far from it. What do you say we walk there? Not only will it give us a chance to stretch our legs, but you can get a better idea of what the district looks like."

Vanus agreed, relieved they would not be climbing back into the carriage just yet. He'd eaten to the point he felt fit to burst and the prospect of being jostled about in a carriage did not ease his nausea. Thunder clouds gray as a darkening bruise loomed ominously over the spires of the city; angry flashes of blue lit their underbellies. The odor of impending rain hung heavy in the air. As they walked, the lawyer continued to lecture the orphan about the feud between the Theocracy and the Imperium with the passion and patience of a scholar.

“The quarrel between the Theocracy and the Imperium goes back since the very first historical archive. We’re talking over three or four millenia. No truly knows, though most historians will always try to throw a number at you to make themselves less clueless. There are myths telling of a time when the Seraphim and the Rephaim existed as a society, but this would have been back when we were just learning to clump sticks and rocks together to make buildings.” He pointed at a spire that towered above all else at the center of the district. Vanus could only gape in wonder at the prism-shaped structure. He imagined giant hands carving it into shape with a chisel. “Before you is the home of the Imperium headquarters here in Vaylin.”

Armored guards carrying strange looking staff in their gauntleted hands. Thick plated helmets hid their faces. One of the guards nodded a silent greeting at Vanus and Mr. Fritz, towering over them. A strange buzzing sensation crawled over Van's flesh when he drew close to the guard's staff. This place is protected like a fortress, he thought.

"Sentries, very formidable," Mr. Fritz whispered. "They're diamond eyes just like you, charged with protecting the Imperium headquarters at all costs."

"They are?" Vanus peered over his shoulder. "I couldn't tell with those silly-looking tin cans they wear on their hands."

"Do not speak of them so flippantly, m'dear boy," the lawyer admonished. "They play a very important role by keeping the building secure."

"By standing around like statues?"

"They are not just standing around; they are holding formation. You have no idea the amount of valuable historical information we house just in the archives alone, not to mention the powerful artifacts inside. Some of them, if put into the wrong hands, could level the whole island in the blink of an eye."

"And they're supposed to keep the city of Vaylin safe with those sticks?"

"Those sticks are more dangerous than they appear and are not to be used as toys." They started to ascend the steps leading up to the arched entrance. "They help magicians channel their mana into a more concentrated force to minimize the damage for friendly fire; but make no mistake, that only makes them more dangerous, not less. And they are quite useful in close quarters hand-to-hand combat."

Van's eyes brightened with interest. "What do I have to do to get one? Do I have to have some sort of license or permit?"

Mr. Fritz waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing so official. It’s assumed that if you have one you know how to use it. Of course, with your circumstances being so unusual it would make sense you don’t know this. Diamond eyes get their staff on their eighteenth birthday, the day they officially enter adulthood, but begin to learn how to use it in hand-to-hand combat well before then.”

They reached the inner sanctum of the Imperium headquarters. Vanus ducked when a blur of motion whizzed past his head. It was a book! There were hundreds, maybe thousands of volumes flying about as if they had a mind of their own. All around them bookshelves that took up entire sections of wall rose up to meet the vaulted ceiling. A robed man stood in the middle of the chaos; he held a staff over his head similar to the one the sentries were armed with. A strange red glow emanated from him. So that's what mana looks like, Vanus thought. When his birthday came would he possess such power to make a room rearrange itself? So far, he was only capable of moving small objects.

Silver light seeped through stained glass windows, casting kaleidoscopic pools on the flagstone tiles. In every corner of the room winged statues watched them, representing the Rephaim: Samyaza, the angel of pride; Azazel, the angel of sacrifice; Rahab, angel of the deep; Sathriel, the angel of deception and so forth.

"You said there's someone who wants to meet with me. Who will I be meeting with?" Vanus asked.

"We're here." Mr. Fritz stopped outside an open archway. He waved a hand for the orphan to venture inside, muttering something about running back to his office for documents that would need signing. Vanus was more than grateful to have a break from the man's endless chattering; Vanus was sure he had talked more this morning than in his entire life.

Inside the chamber a verdant garden awaited him. A dim, eerie light emanated from somewhere in the room. The air was thick and humid, the vapors of pollen an assault on the senses. He passed fauna of every shape and color beyond what his sheltered imagination could conceive. Water spouted from a fountain with lily pads floating on the surface of the water. The shadows were thick enough that he didn’t realize he was no longer alone until it was tonight. He felt his shin bump into something living and a disgruntled oomph as that thing fell to the floor.

Knowing a thing exists and seeing it for the first time is not the same thing, he thought.

The creature was short, maybe three inches tall; its head was round with little horns poking out from its bald head; stick-thin arms and legs attached to a bony torso; skin a deep shade of violet, shriveled and dry looking. Van watched the creature totter to its feet with a mixture of caution and amusement. The creature spun around and shook its little fists at him in retribution before tottering off into the dark the way from which the orphan had come.

In the maze's center a woman stood naked in a large pool of water. Her back was turned so Vanus had a perfect view of the soft curve of her back. Hair, black as a raven's feathers, flowed down her back until it disappeared beneath the water. Before Van could sneak from view, the woman spoke. "You must be Vanus. Conrad has told me so much about you."

"That's funny," said the orphan. "He hasn't told me much of anything."

The woman laughed. The velvety, soft overtone could not hide the icy undercurrent Van's sensitive ears detected. "The silly little man means well, but he does have a tendency to get ahead of himself. Easily excited, that one." Vanus listened to the sound of droplets of water as the woman waded out of the pool. "You can turn around now, I'm decent. Does another's nudity bother you?"

Facing the woman, Vanus shrugged. “Not particularly. Where I’m from, prudishness is not a luxury many can afford. I was just trying to be respectful.”

The woman wore a red silk bathrobe that hugged her svelte form like a sleeve. Her eyes glowed a luminous yellow that reminded Vanus of a cat.

Like him she had diamond eyes.

“I am Zephyra, Matriarch of the Cambiel Dynasty and High Priestess of this temple. You may call me Zeph. And what might I call you?”

“You can call me Van. Ugh, I saw this strange little creature…I accidentally knocked him…it…er…over. It ran off, so I imagine it’s fine.”

“What you encountered was an imp. They are the most common class of daemon in the Imperium. They work as housekeepers mostly, keeping up on the gardens, deliveries, maintenance. Though they are completely harmless I can see how bumping into one for the very first time would be a shock. I imagine you didn’t see them much growing up.” At the suspicious look Vanus gave her, Zeph laughed again. “Ah, here comes one of the little beasts now.”

The creature tottered into view, carrying a staff that was almost twice as tall as it. Whether or not it was the imp the orphan had knocked over earlier Van could not tell.

She stepped towards him, her movements graceful and silent. “Yes, I know about your situation. Since Mr. Fritz told me about the wayward nephew of Patriarch Charlie Kaufmann, I haven’t been able to focus on any of my duties. At first, I wasn’t sure what to believe, but now that you’re here, it’s like looking into the face of a ghost. You look just like your mother, Vanessa. And your uncle Julian.”

“Do I?” Van asked, all questions of imps and daemons completely forgotten.

“It’s uncanny.” She said this last word slowly as if to taste it. “You their hair, their eyes, their lips, and the general air of swagger all the Kaufmans seem to possess. Though I haven’t seen her in almost two decades, it was just like yesterday that Vanessa stood before me. And as for your uncle it’s only as if he just left the room. It seems there are ghosts all around me today. It brings me great pleasure to welcome you home. Regardless of where you grew up your real place is here with the Imperium. You are a diamond eyes after all, and more importantly a Kaufman.” The High Priestess placed herself on a stone bench close to the pool. “Come and join me. I want to get a better look at you.”

Van did not move from where he stood. Long ago he’d realized it was safer not to get close to people, especially when they were strangers. If they couldn’t reach you then they couldn’t hurt you. “It’s nothing personal, but I think I’ll stand. I prefer my personal space. It’s…it’s something I’m working on.”

Zeph smiled as if she knew something he didn’t. “Do as you please. Don’t let anyone tell you what is acceptable and what is not, what is too much, and what is too little. That is our philosophy here at the Imperium. We value one’s desire to speak up and set themselves apart from one another. To an extent that is. We have to have some form of law put into place or else this city would be burning down around our ears. Alas, I commend you and understand why you take precautions. It means you have a keen mind, which could serve the Imperium well should you take an interest in our affairs.”

“Affairs?”

“Politics,” Zephyr replied.

“I have no interest in getting involved with politics of any nature.”

“Nor did I when I was your age,” Zeph said with a wistful sigh. “Most diamond eyes don’t, though many of them won’t admit it. I wanted to explore myself and be free. But that was a long time ago, in another era. Presently, events are moving faster than the Imperium can keep up with: Factories sprouting up like leaves from the ground; new islands and maps are being added to the map every day; let us not forget the mauler plague.” She dropped her head back in exhaustion. “You would not believe the amount of documents that get piled on my desk every day. My point to all this is, don't trap yourself into something you will regret later. Conversely, don't be afraid to get in touch with your more ambitious side.”

"I'll be sure to take that under advisement," said the orphan.

The High Priestess' head bobbed in approval. "You'd be smart not to. I may not look it, but I am almost a thousand years old and it amazes me how people refuse to listen to those who are more experienced than they are. This is a flaw both the Imperium and the Theocracy share and both institutions suffer because of it. We all think we know everything. But no one, no matter how powerful they might be, can possibly know everything. Come with me. There's something I want to show you."

Van followed Zeph out of the garden. He looked around curiously, hoping to spot another imp. He didn't have to wait long. They zoomed through the corridors of the compound on webbed feet, carrying stacks of books or sheafs of paper. Unlike Mr. Fritz, Zeph did not speak nonstop; nor did she watch his face constantly to see what he might do next.

She led him into a chamber even larger than the one they'd left, using her staff as a walking stick. The ceiling was so high above them, it made him feel small. The statues of the Rephaim watched them, magnificent in their height, and disquieting in how lifelike their faces were. Van's skin crawled with the sensation of being watched.

"The Seraphim do not procreate with their subjects," said Zeph skeptically. "Don't ask me why. The Raphaim have never had such inhibitions. They believe that knowledge is power and that intimate relationships are a gift; they believe it is not a sin for one to gratify their sexual desires. If they did not hold such beliefs, you and I would not be as we are. Their blood flows through our veins. That is why you will live thousands of years, why you can do things no ordinary mortal can do, and why the Theocracy fear the Imperium. They fear what we can do."

"So, we aren't daemons?"

Zeph snorted. "Certainly not. The Rephaim made the daemons to serve and protect us." They stopped at one of the statues. “Each of the great families, my family, and your family, are descended from the angels. The Kaufmans come from Azrael.” Vanus had to crane his head back to look up at the statue’s face. Azrael was depicted as a long-haired man with a somber expression, his wings spread out at either side of him. He held the handle of a long staff in both hands. Why does he look so sad? Vanus wondered.

“Will you do something for me?” Zeph asked. “It’s harmless…mostly.”

“What?” Vanus asked in a tight voice. Who was this strange woman to be asking favors of him already?

The High Priestess pulled a dagger from the folds of her robes. “I want you to cut yourself—your hand will do. Then I want you to smear your blood on the statue.”

Van did not take the dagger. “Why?”

“To see if you are truly a Kaufman.”

“You don’t think I’m a Kaufman?”

“You don’t have to convince me. As I said you look so much like Vanessa there is no doubt. But the Imperium cannot go off my word alone. This will alleviate any doubts you might face in the future. And believe me, the Imperium will have doubts when they learn where you’ve lived this whole time.”

Vanus took the dagger. The handle was made of sterling silver with rubies and diamonds embedded in the handle. He preferred his much smaller, wooden-handled dagger. It was light and he could pull it out quickly. This dagger appeared as if it was used for more ritualistic purposes. He drew the blade across the palm of his hand. Blood began well from the wound immediately. Grimacing, Vanus smeared his blood across the foot of the statue. He watched the statue’s countenance to see if it showed signs of sentience, but the angel’s face remained remote.

Like a living thing, his blood seeped up the side of the statue, leaving a trail of crimson behind. It traveled past the grim cleft of Azrael’s lips, his nose, and the crease between his eyebrows before reaching the blank eyes. The statue absorbed the blood.

“Tell me, Vanus? What day is your birthday exactly?”

"The day after tomorrow," Van said numbly.

Zephyr's eyes gleamed with something that might have been pleasure. "In less than two days time you will become the Patriarch of the Azrael Dynasty. You will grow into your full power and have riches beyond anything you could imagine. And you deserve nothing less." The High Priestess stood up and went to him. She gently put her free hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

“Welcome home, Vanus Kaufman.”