You Are Here Smashwords by N. E. White

Author:N. E. White [White, N. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

*

His heart still trembling, Alberto shuffled down the steps into the cool, dry basement that held all the important things in his life. He flicked on lights that he had installed himself many decades before. Against the east and west walls stood the carved mannequins that bore the skins of the others who had come to view the map over the centuries, a fresh representation of some aspect or region of the Desolation on each one. It had been the work of his family for many generations, right back to Vito Mercuri, whose ancient skin adorned a sculpted figure standing against the north wall, next to the mummified corpse of Giovanni Canossa, arranged in a pose of crucifixion.

As always, a rush of chittering burst in his head as Alberto crossed the floor to stand before Canossa. He had never been able to make out words in the torrent of noise, but the meaning was always clear. It had been ever since his father had brought him here when he was just a boy, he alone chosen to continue the family legacy. Canossa’s wrinkled, blackened face gazed down at him with ferocious intent while Alberto calmed himself, drew a deep breath.

“Another visitor,” he said quietly. “A woman this time. Willing to kill, I am sure. I showed her the most recent map, the one on the journalist who came from America. She seemed unimpressed, but she saw it clearly. She has it now.”

A flurry of whispering assailed him again.

“Yes, she will be another piece of the Final Atlas. But this time it will be different.” Sweat ran down Alberto’s forehead, and he could feel the heaviness of it against his eyebrows. He had been dreading a moment such as this, though had known that it must come. “She mentioned a consortium she was contracted by, a group of people interested in the map. If she gets it to them before she loses her mind, there will be several new subjects returning to join the Atlas in the coming months. Enough to complete it, perhaps.”

The noise that was not noise increased in volume, bringing tears to his eyes. “Yes, I know. There will be much work to do to prepare these additions, and I cannot do it alone. I have put off the matter of succession too long. I must call my brother Ernesto in Milan. He has a grandson, young enough to learn. He expressed an interest in visiting me this summer, before he goes to the university. He will come, and I will show him the Atlas.”

The room echoed with a placating trill that Alberto knew was meant to soothe his concerns. He shook his head. “Don’t talk to me,” he whispered to Canossa’s dead flesh, “of rewards. We both know where that got you.”

Alberto made his way through the house to the street, pausing only to collect a book of matches from the kitchen. At the tobacconist’s stand on the corner he bought a fresh pack of cigarettes and then eased himself onto a bench by the fountain in the piazza.

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