Llanwyre Laish | 33
Llanwyre Laish
The Cabinet of Bells
The madman in the palace has engaged forty new servants to tie tiny bells around the flowers in his garden. We proceed with gossamer ribbon and jeweler's tweezers, for we cannot harm the blooms. The extensive gardens spill out from inside the palace walls and down to the sea. When the wind blows, the flowers raise a chorus of ethereal metallic tinkling, like something from a fairy tale. An entire village of children makes the bells, for only their small hands can make such delicate adornments. Together, we are known as the Cabinet of Bells.
We live in a long house with soft beds and warm fires, much grander than our former village huts. The Emperor's kitchen prepares our meals, but exhaustion keeps us from enjoying this gesture. Already this month one of us has gone blind, and the Clerk of the Household sent him home. We fear for him, for what village has work for one who cannot see?
Sunup, sundown, tying and tying, for flowers die quickly and bells must be moved and replaced constantly. The flowers bloom year round in the temperate climate, but we who live in the longhouse curse the warm winds and pray for frost. My hands shake from the exacting work, and my head aches so badly that I cannot see.
Visitors come from all over the world. The women wear full skirts that dislodge our bells, and the men walk confidently wherever they please. Our own Emperor and his caravan of courtiers destroy most of our work as they play. At night, we carry crates of new bells up from the warehouse down by the sea.
The courtiers love the madman. He demands little of them, and therefore they have little reason to poison one another for his favor. Instead they gather to admire his wasteful extravagances. Administration of the country has all but stopped, for the Emperor's passion for beauty exceeds his passion for justice. My less cynical peers remind me that at least he has no passion for injustice, like his father, who regularly razed whole villages at a whim. Yet as I look out over the garden and see the backs of villagers bent over the flowers, I realize that “raze” means more than one thing.