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We moved on, to another ward of the city, known as the Upper or Clerk's Ward. I noticed a woman walking towards us, followed by a member of the Harmonium, almost as if he were a bodyguard.
She was an older, stern-looking woman, clearly on her way somewhere. When she noticed my approach, she studied me with a disapproving, tight-lipped frown. Although she plainly didn't approve of something about me, I stubbornly plowed on.
"Greetings…" The woman nodded curtly, speaking in a tone cold as ice.
"Yes? What is it? And watch your words, for I am Diligence, Fourth Magistrate of the Ward." I briefly wondered whether people in Sigil changed their names to match their profession, or if their given name determined their path in life.
"Something troubling about my appearance?"
"I should most certainly think so! Should the Apparel Regulation Act be passed, people of your sort won't be permitted to traipse about in such a manner, half-naked and filthy as you are.." I could have been insulting, confirming her opinion. But I decided to follow a more diplomatic approach.
"I'm quite clean, begging your pardon, and… meaning no disrespect, madam… some cultures might find *your* clothes offensive." She examined me skeptically for a moment, then nodded.
"Your point is well-taken... sir. Still, though, you cannot deny you are a rather rough-looking sort of fellow."
"My appearance is merely the product of my environment, madam, and a difficult life. I shouldn't be held accountable for that."
"Oh, but you should! How easy it is for one to blame one's life, one's surroundings for their every failing! I can see by your manner you are well-educated, sir, yet you appear to insist upon a lifestyle of wandering and senseless violence. Why not settle in Sigil, become a contributing citizen, rather than some bloody-handed nomad in its streets?"
"The choice is out of my hands, I assure you."
"Oh? How so?" Her coldness melted away into a look of curiosity.
My lips quirked in a smile. I had the time. I told her my story… or what I knew of it. At the end, Diligence looked shocked.
"That... that is quite a tale, sir."
"Were it only a tale, madam. It is my life, and I've the scars to prove it - as you noted when we first met, I believe."
"Yes, yes... quite so." She smiled slightly... I had begun to wonder if she was even capable of such a thing. "I wish you luck, sir, in your undertakings. May you find yourself once more."
She claimed the time I had already taken was more than she could spare from her busy schedule, so she left without answering any more questions.
I moved on to an outdoor café, circulating among the patrons standing near the bar.
I talked to a young, finely attired woman relaxing there, enjoying the outside air while sipping at a beverage. Her eyes widened slightly as she took my appearance in. She smiled uneasily.
"Ah... greetings to-" Suddenly, her eyes alighted on Morte. "Oh! What a cute little mimir!" I decided to have a little fun with Morte, for a change.
"Isn't he? He likes to have the top of his skull scratched."
"Truly?" She remained smiling, but looked suspicious. "Surely you jest, sir! 'Tis only a mimir..."
"What do you mean? Don't they all enjoy that?" I asked innocently.
She shook her head. "No, none that I've seen. They're merely objects, aren't-" Morte interrupted her:
"Well, you see, chief, it's all about differences in the *quality* of your mimir. Some - like me -- are more enchanted than others, that's all. More... uh... 'self-aware,' is the term." The woman shrugged.
"That could certainly be."
I questioned her about the Clerk's Ward. From her and several other patrons, I learned most of the ward was filled with record halls and administration buildings. The part of the ward where I was now was different. It contained the Civic Festhall of the Sensates, a faction. There were several other buildings of interest as well. The Art and Curio Gallery, the advocate's home, the apothecary, the Brothel of Slating Intellectual Lusts, the tailor and an odd little curiosity shop.
Questioning her revealed a bit more about some of the locations. The advocate was Iannis, a lawyer. The brothel existed to pleasure the mind and senses, certainly a type of brothel with which I was unfamiliar. It was run by a sensate, said to be a succubus, which I thought to be some sort of a fiend. The Civic Festhall was most renowned for its sensoriums, where one could experience the experiences of others captured in special stones. Some areas of the festhall were resolved for members of the Sensate faction only.
I overheard another, older, patron expounding on obscure regulations to a younger companion who was looking somewhat dazed. The older man looked somewhat bookish. His clothing and accessories were extremely clean, neat and well cared for, and he often paused to brush some fleck of dust or lint off of them. A symbol resembling a stylized dagger, piercing upwards through a flame, was embroidered upon his tunic.
I interrupted him to get his attention. The man's eyes passed over me, gleaming as they fixed on Morte.
"Oh, I say! Would you look at that! A floating skull!"
Morte turned and looked behind him. "Where?! Where?!" The man gasped as Morte spoke.
"By the unjust laws of Tueny the Merciless!" He suddenly covered his mouth and looked at Annah apologetically.
"Sorry, sorry... the man was a horrible tyrant, now long dead. His name should never be spoken so; 'tis rather vulgar. My deepest apologies, m'lady. I did not mean to offend." Annah shrugged, rolling her eyes.
"Talk as yeh like, cutter; I care not a whit fer what yeh say... unless ye're rattlin' yer bone-box about *me,* that is." He turned back to Morte.
"But behold! A skull, buoyant, levitating off the ground, cognitive of its environment, and possessing hearing, speaking and seeing capabilities." He turned to me, as if I was suddenly a confidant.
"This is truly one of the reasons that the Planes shall never become dull to me, sir - just when you think you have seen everything, the Planes show you yet another corner to peer around, and..." He raised his hands gloriously. "...suddenly whole new, wondrous vistas are open to you."
"I'm not sure if Morte qualifies as a 'wonderous vista.'" I said sourly, aware it was probably a mistake to ever have attempted to begin this conversation. The man ignored me, looking to Morte instead.
"I say, skull..." he began when Morte gasped.
"Look, behind you - another floating skull!"
I resignedly let matters take their course. The man seemed to have forgotten me entirely, instead turning in shock to look for this 'other' floating skull.
"No! Where? Where!"
"Right where I'm pointing! There!" The poor fellow didn't even stop to think that Morte had nothing to point with, he was so busy looking attempting to see what Morte saw.
"Where? I cannot see it!" Morte replied with mock exasperation.
"You just missed it! A whole *parade* of them! Probably never happen again in a million revolutions of the Great Ring!"
"I sense you also possess a peculiar degree of mockery," he harumphed, having finally caught on.
"I prefer to refer to it as keen insights into human nature." Morte bobbed slightly, as if shrugging.
I attempted to get the man's attention again. He suddenly seemed to see me for the first time... The man's eyes widened.
"By the unjust laws of Tueny the...!" He caught himself, looking apologetic. "I say, are you all right? You look..." He fumbled for the words. "...hurt." I replied I was all right. Annah interjected herself into the conversation as well.
"Aye, it hurts ta look at 'im, it does."
"Very funny, Annah. I had some questions, such as who you are."
"Why, my name is Able Ponder-Thought. I passed my Administrator exam just recently, and have achieved the status of an 'A9,' a research consultant in the Hall of Records, one of the many aides specializing in Sigil's physical laws and history. I research topics and laws of interest to others. It is quite fascinating, really..."
I quickly cut him off, asking about the symbol embroidered on his tunic.
"Why, 'tis the symbol of the Fraternity of Order. We are responsible for much of the law-making and running the courts here in Sigil. Many judges, advocates and clerks are members of our Order, and we are pleased to be able to help enforce Sigil's laws and keep things orderly. We make a strident effort to learn all laws, whether they pertain to Sigil, the Planes or the multiverse itself."
"The Fraternity of Order believes that the multiverse is governed by laws. When one knows all the laws, one will understand the multiverse. That is our goal. By understanding the laws, their limits, we learn to avoid certain laws."
Perhaps he would be of some use, after all. I asked about the Lady of Pain.
"The Lady of Pain, yes, yes... she is the force behind Sigil, you know. Very impressive figure, but little is known about her."
He began ticking off the points which were known on his fingers: "One: She is not just a symbol of Sigil, as some claim. She is very real and very dangerous. Two: She is believed to be the one that keeps the Powers... deities... out of Sigil. As long as she is present, the Powers cannot enter Sigil... Three: She also prevents unauthorized teleporting and gating into and out of Sigil. It prevents the outer planes creatures from bringing even more of their kind to Sigil outside of the conventional routes. Four: She has never spoken. To anyone. Five: She usurped control of Sigil from Aoskar, a Power now believed dead. Six: Anyone who threatens Sigil... or her... is punished, either by falling beneath her shadow, which results in a series of invisible stab wounds that can kill even greater baatezu, or by being sent to the mazes, from whence few ever escape. Seven: She does not like to be worshipped. Those that do are often found with their skin missing. And lastly: The sight of her is believed to drive others mad."
I asked about several other topics, but found either his knowledge to be lacking, or explanations so long-winded he never came to the point. He failed to note my attempts to excuse myself, so I just walked away.
I moved to another patron, a tall, slender woman, sipping wine from a small ceramic cup. She appeared to be looking for someone. Her facial features were elegantly exotic and the woman's ears, though partially covered by her long hair, could be seen to come to sharp points.
I greeted her. The woman turned to face me, violet eyes flashing like flawless chips of amethyst. Her speech was as music; I could hear a faint, musical tinkling, a hundred tiny crystal bells, as she spoke. Each word lingered in my ears, as if they were unwilling to relinquish the exquisite sound.
"Nemelle turned to face the scarred, dour stranger. She asked what he wished of her."
"Wow, " Morte commented.
"Pah!" Annah sneered at Morte. "Stop yer droolin', yeh leerin' skull."
"My," Morte replied, "what a hot-blooded little chit! Starved for attention? I could drool over you, too, if you're just jealous…" Morte started floating towards Annah, making wet slavering noises…
Annah stated, "Get a hair's breadth closer, skull, an I'll see to it that not one o' yer chatterin' teeth lies within a hundred paces of another!"
Morte stopped abruptly, turning away while muttering unintelligibly. I tried to ignore their byplay.
"You're Nemelle? I was told you know the command word for this decanter."
The woman made no move to touch or examine the decanter, but only spoke. "Nemelle took it from the stranger, turning it in her hands. Had she seen its like before, she thought? Perhaps... yes, she remembered now. She returned the decanter, whispering into his ear as she did so..." I realized I knew the word, now -- 'Nildenosaj' -- though I was certain the woman never whispered to me, but merely said she did. She blinked at me.
"Would the stranger leave her, now, satisfied with what she had told him?"
"Not just yet. Are you looking for someone?"
"'Where could she be?' Nemelle wondered. Her companion, Aelwyn, was supposed to have met her here days ago." The woman sighed miserably; the air around her grew chill with her sadness. "How long must she search this vast, foreign city before she finds her dearest friend?"
I nearly started at the name Aelwyn. When I first left the Mortuary, a citizen of the Hive recognized me, and accused me of an awful crime to someone of that name. But it couldn't be the same person.
"I could help you find your friend. What does she look like?" Nemelle clasped her hands together and bowed her head to me.
"She would be so pleased to hear news of her friend! She told the kind stranger what Aelwyn looked like, so that he would know her should he come across her." An image formed in my mind -- a woman who resembled Nemelle, but with golden eyes and hair of fiery crimson.
Now that I knew the command word for the Decanter of Endless
Water I carried, I thought back to the Smoldering Bar and the
twisting corpse which gave it its name.
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