Tuvo Ausonius knew where he was, as he had not been blindfolded. His arrest had been effected quite openly, the officers arriving during daylight hours with the rod and cuffs, and conducting him quite publicly through the streets.
The rod was behind the small of his back, and his arms had been brought forward about it; his hands, in the cuffs, were rather at his sides; held closely there by the arrangement of cuffs and chain. The rod could not slip from its position as two small, looped chains, attached to the rod, one on each side of the body, were snapped about his arms, just above the elbow.
The two officers who had placed Tuvo Ausonius on his knees now stepped back.
Tuvo Ausonius was naked, save that a rag had been twisted about his loins, perhaps that his modesty as a same might be respected.
Ausonius winced as a bright light, set somewhere above, illuminated him.
The curule chair, at the moment, was empty.
Ausonius, his eyes half closed, shut against the glare, tried to look to the guards. He could do so only with difficulty, as they were rather behind him, on each side. He could read nothing in their expressions or carriage, save perhaps that they would do with him what they were told.
A door opened and an officer of the city entered.
“Mercy!” cried Tuvo Ausonius.
The officer, who carried some papers, regarded him.
“I am innocent!” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Of what?” asked the officer.
“I do not know,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “Why am I here? With what have I been charged?”
The officer, looking down upon him, did not choose to respond.
“There has been some mistake,” cried Tuvo Ausonius. “I am Tuvo Ausonius, of Miton, an honest citizen, a patrician, a level-four civil servant in the government of his majesty, the emperor!”
“My record is impeccable,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“I am a patrician,” he said.
“I am innocent!” he said.
“You will be heard, of course,” said the officer. “His lordship himself will hear your case.”
“His lordship?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.
At this point a tall, darkly clad figure appeared in the doorway.
Tuvo Ausonius pressed back against the metal bar fixed in its sockets.
“Your lordship,” said the officer, deferentially.
The darkly clad figure nodded and approached, taking the papers from the officer. “Thank you, Commissioner,” said the darkly clad figure.
This appellation startled Tuvo Ausonius.
The darkly clad figure took his place on the curule chair, and leafed through the papers.
“I am innocent, your lordship,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“You may leave, Commissioner,” said the darkly clad figure.
“Yes, your lordship,” said the officer, and withdrew.
The darkly clad figure was masked.
“Tuvo Ausonius, civil servant, fourth level, Miton, a same world, finance division, first imperial quadrant, member of the honestori, even of the minor patricians-” said the masked figure, looking through the papers.
“Of the Ausonii,” said Ausonius, “in the 103rd degree!”
“That is quite impressive,” said the masked figure.
“An excellent dossier,” said the masked figure.
“Yes, your lordship!” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“On the whole,” said the masked figure.
“Your lordship?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.
“There does seem the matter of mating,” said the masked figure. “You are aware of the encouragements of the imperial government in these respects? You are aware of the empress mother’s concern in such matters?”
“Oh!” cried Tuvo Ausonius, relievedly. “Certainly! Do not fear! I searched avidly for a spouse! A marriage was arranged, indeed, with an inferior, but technically suitable member of the patricians, one from the acceptable world of Terennia, one whose descent fell, even if only barely, within the guidelines for my station, a Tribonius Auresius!”
The masked figure raised his eyes from the papers.
“That is a woman, of course!” said Ausonius. “Sames often give their female children masculine or neutral names, in order to help them better attain in their psychology and behavior the goals and ideals of sameness.”
“But you are not mated,” said the masked figure.
“Alas, no!” cried Tuvo Ausonius. “Perhaps you have heard of the Alaria?”
“Yes,” said the masked figure.
“It was lost!” moaned Tuvo Ausonius.
“Several ships have been lost,” said the figure.
“There was doubtless a malfunction, or a meteor storm,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Doubtless,” said the masked figure.
“My proposed bride was on board the Alaria,” said Tuvo Ausonius, in a choked voice.
“But you have not made other arrangements?”
“I was at a loss, I was heartbroken,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “You can understand.”
“I think so,” said the masked figure.
“But now, after this time, of course,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “I am more than willing to mate. Does the board have a candidate in mind? I would be eager to comply, whoever it might be. I am a good citizen.”
“Your citizenship is commendable,” said the masked figure. “Do you think this business has to do with a mating board?”
“Does it not?” asked Tuvo Ausonius, apprehensively.
“The empire does not practice coercion,” said the masked figure. “The empire is the very condition of freedom, as you know.”
“Certainly,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Very few individuals, statistically, are arraigned before mating boards,” said the masked figure, “and little more is necessary, in most cases, than presenting some evidence, reasons, arguments, or such, pertinent to the matter. You have done far more than is expected by such boards, having actually gone to the lengths of arranging a marriage, and such. You would be instantly, and without question, exonerated. Too, the empire can surely respect your sense of loss, your feelings.”
“Then this matter is not in connection with a mating board?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.
“Certainly not,” said the masked figure.
“Why do you think you were brought to this world?” asked the masked figure.
“I do not know,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“The empire has had its eye on you for a long time,” said the masked figure.
“Oh?” said Tuvo Ausonius, uneasily.
“Your record appeared outstanding,” said the masked figure.
“Your lordship?”
“You were summoned here to be commended, to be honored for your devotion to the empire, to be rewarded and promoted.”
“Your lordship!”
“But in examining your accounts, preparatory to clearances for the award,” continued the figure, “a number of unusual, subtle, serious discrepancies appeared.”
“Impossible!” cried Tuvo Ausonius.
“There are special formulas, not generally publicized, for detecting such discrepancies,” said the figure.
“My work is outstandingly accurate,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Perhaps it contained some inadvertent errors?”
“Perhaps,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “But I find that hard to believe.”
“So does the examining board,” said the figure. “The errors are of such a nature, such a frequency, such a proportion, that it is impossible that they can be the result of inadvertence. They demonstrate, incontrovertibly, to the board, evidence of extensive, profound, shameless peculation.”
“I do not understand,” said Tuvo Ausonius. He suddenly seemed very much aware of the cuffs on his wrists, how hard the cement was beneath his knees.
“Perhaps you have enemies?” suggested the figure.
“But who, for what purpose?” cried Ausonius.