(urth) Seeing the signs...

[Ryan Dunn]

On Dec 16, 2010, at 6:09 AM, Jeff Wilson wrote:

> I'm not sure it's consistent to include Agia's hex sign scribbled in the dust and not the beats or masks painted on the towers, or the theatrical masks appearing in various places.


Thanks, Jeff. Here are some of the added citations, one for the masks on the towers, and a couple of the mask entries. I did not include the cacogen masks since they are explained in the text. Agilus's ribbons, however, I felt were important to include. So, too, I felt the paintings in the pinakotheken were worth note. There are more to add, surely, and I'll try to make it comprehensive (maybe with your help?).

. .

"Many of these were so old and smoke-grimed that I could not discern their subjects, and there were others whose meaning I could not guess - a dancer whose wings seemed leeches, a silent-looking woman who gripped a double-bladed dagger and sat beneath a mortuary mask. After I had walked at least a league among these enigmatic paintings one day, I came upon an old man perched on a high ladder."

(Shadow of the Torturer, c.6 - "The Picture-Cleaner and Others")

. .

"Like the rest of that vaulted hall it was of dull, reddish brick, but it was upheld by two pillars whose capitals bore the faces of sleepers, and I found the silent lips and pale, closed eyes more terrible than the agonized masks painted on the metal of our own tower."

(Shadow of the Torturer, c.6 - "The Picture-Cleaner and Others")

. .

"The man behind the counter was more frightening than any torturer. His face was a skeleton's or nearly so, a face with dark pits for eyes, shrunken cheeks, and a lipless mouth. [...]

"I unsheathed Ternunus Est and laid her on the rags. He bent over her, neither touching her nor speaking. By that time my eyes had become accustomed to the dimness of the shop, and I noticed a narrow black ribbon that stretched forward a finger's width from the hair above his ears. "You are wearing a mask," I said." [...]

"'The ribbons that held your mask,' I said. 'They're still there.' He was dragging down boxes from behind his counter and did not reply."

(Shadow of the Torturer, c.16 - "The Rag Shop" & c.17 - "The Challenge")

. .

"'Eventually he had led her into what must have been the presence chamber. She said it was a large room with hangings of a solid, dark red and almost no furniture except for vases taller than a man and wider than she could spread her arms.

"'In the center was what she at first took to be a room within the room. The walls were octagonal and painted with labyrinths. Over it, just visible from where she stood at the entrance to the presence chamber, burned the brightest lamp she had ever seen. It was blue-white, she said, and so brilliant an eagle could not have kept his eyes on it.'" [...]

"'She ran to the curtains hoping to find another door behind them, but as soon as she pulled one aside, one of the eight walls painted with labyrinths opened and Father Inire stepped out. Behind him she saw what she called a bottomless hole filled with light.

"'There you are,' he said. 'You've come just in time. Child, the fish is nearly caught. You can watch the setting of the hook, and learn by what means his golden scales are to be meshed in our landing net.' He took her arm and led her into the octagonal enclosure." [...]

"'In the center of the enclosure, just under the lamp, was a haze of yellow light. It was never still, she said. It moved up and down and from side to side with rapid flickerings, never leaving a space that might have been four spans high and four long. It did indeed remind her of a fish. Much more than the faint flagae she had glimpsed in the mirrors of the Hall of Meaning ever had - a fish swimming in air, confined to an invisible bowl." [...]

"'The ancients, who knew this process at least as well as we and perhaps better, considered the Fish the least important and most common of the inhabitants of specula. With their false belief that the creatures they summoned were ever present in the depths of the glass, we need not concern ourselves."

(Shadow of the Torturer, c.20 - "Father Inire's MIrrors")

. .

"As she said that, we rounded one of the path's seemingly endless sinuosities. A log tagged with a small white rectangle that could only be a species sign lay across the path, and through the crowding leaves on our left I could see the wall, its greenish glass forming an unobtrusive backdrop for the foliage."

(Shadow of the Torturer, c.21 - "The Hut in the Jungle")

. .

"When I left him, the orichalk was gone. In its place - and no doubt with its edge - a design had been scratched on the filthy stones. It might have been the snarling face of Jurupari, or perhaps a map, and it was wreathed with letters I did not know. I rubbed it away with my foot."

(Shadow of the Torturer, c.29 - "Agilus")

. .

"From his sabretache he took an iron phallus. It was about a span and a half long and had a leather thong through the end opposite the tip.

"It must seem idiotic to you who read this, but for an instant I could not imagine what the thing was for, despite the somewhat exaggerated realism of its design. I had a wild notion that the wine had rendered him childish, as a little boy is who supposes there is no essential difference between his wooden mount and a real animal. I wanted to laugh."

(Claw of the Conciliator, c.7 - "The Assassins")

. .

"We had descended perhaps a hundred steps when we reached a door painted with a crimson teratoid sign that appeared to me to be a glyph from some tongue beyond the shores of Urth. At that moment I heard a tread upon the stair." [...]

"I was delighted to hear his voice, and largely in the hope that he would speak again, I asked, 'Where are we, then?'

"'On Urth,' he answered, and strode across the room to the folded panels. Their backs were set with clustered diamonds, as I now saw, and enameled with such twisted signs as had been on the door. Yet these signs were no stranger than the actions of my friend Jonas when he threw the panels open. The rigidity I had remarked in him only a moment before was gone—yet he had not returned to his old self."

(Claw of the Conciliator, c.18 - "Mirrors")

. .

"Enter a PROPHET. He wears a goat skin and carries a staff whose head has been crudely carved into a strange symbol."

(Claw of the Conciliator, c.24 - "Dr. Talos's Play")

. .

"Oversized rooms were separated by walls not much thicker than draperies; no floor was level, and no stair straight; each banister and railing I touched seemed ready to come off in my hand. Gnostic designs in white, green, and purple had been chalked on the walls, but there was little furniture, and the air seemed colder than that outside."

(Claw of the Conciliator, c.30 - "The Badger Again")

. .

"As I had suspected, the Cumaean was not a woman at all; yet neither was she one of the horrors I had beheld in the gardens of the House Absolute. Something sleekly reptilian coiled about the glowing rod. I looked for the head but found none, though each of the patternings on the reptile's back was a face, and the eyes of each face seemed lost in rapture."

(Claw of the Conciliator, c.31 - "The Cleansing")

. .

"The tiles were of many shapes, though they fit together so closely, and at first I thought them representations of birds, lizards, fish and suchlike creatures, all interlocked in the grip of life. Now I feel that this was not so, that they were instead the shapes of a geometry I failed to comprehend, diagrams so complex that the living forms seemed to appear in them as the forms of actual animals appear from the intricate geometries of complex molecules.

"However that might be, these forms seemed to have little connection with the picture or design. Lines of color crossed them, and though they must have been fired into the substance of the tiles in eons past, they were so willful and bright that they might have been laid on only a moment before by some titanic artist's brush. The shades most used were beryl and white, but though I stopped several times and strove to understand what might be depicted there (whether it was writing, or a face, or perhaps a mere decorative design of lines and angles, or a pattern of intertwined verdure) I could not; and perhaps it was each of those, or none, depending on the position from which it was seen and the predisposition the viewer brought to it."

(Sword of the Lictor, c.14 - "The Widow's House")

. .

"Before we had gone another hundred paces, there were strips of red cloth suspended from the trees; some of these were plain, but others had been written over in black in a character I did not understand — or as seemed more likely, with symbols and ideographs of the sort those who pretend to more knowledge than they possess use in imitation of the writing of the astronomers."

(Sword of the Lictor, c.20 - "The Circle of the Sorcerers")

. .

'When the second suitor was closer still he saw that it wore a ring of gold about the ankle of one boot, and the brown wings now seemed no more than a cloak of that color.

"'Then he traced a Sign in the air before him to protect him from those spirits that have forgotten their creator, and he called, 'Who are you? Name yourself!'

'''You see me,' the figure answered him. 'Name me true, and your wish is my wish.'

'''You are the spirit of the lark sent forth by the armiger's daughter,' said the second suitor.

"'Your form you may change, but the ring marks you.'"

(Citadel of the Autarch, c.13 - "Foila's Story -- The Armiger's Daughter")

. .

"For guides our column had three savages: a pair of young men who might have been brothers or even twins, and a much older one, twisted, I thought, by deformities as well as age, who perpetually wore a grotesque mask. [...]

"The old man had a staff as crooked as himself, topped with the dried head of a monkey.

"A covered palanquin whose place in the column was considerably more advanced than my own bore the Autarch, whom my leech gave me to understand was still alive; and one night when my guards were chattering among themselves and I sat crouched over our little fire, I saw the old guide (his bent figure and the impression of an immense head conferred by his mask were unmistakable) approach this palanquin and slip beneath it. Some time passed before he scuttled away. This old man was said to be an uturuncu, a shaman capable of assuming the form of a tiger.

(Citadel of the Autarch, c.28 - "On the March")

. .

"There were papers relating to matters now utterly forgotten and not always identifiable; mechanical devices ingenious and enigmatic; a microcosm that stirred to life at the warmth of my hands, and whose minute inhabitants seemed to grow larger and more human as I watched them; a laboratory containing the fabled "emerald bench" and many other things, the most interesting of which was a mandragora in spirits."

(Citadel of the Autarch, c.35 - "Father Inire's Letter")

. .

...ryan
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