THE LANTERN PARLIAMENT

The Lantern Parliament met only when the city above forgot too many stories. I found it by following a fox that carried a lantern in its mouth through the roots beneath my apartment.

In the underground chamber, a hundred sentient lamps hung over benches made from ancient wood. Each held a human memory in its flame. The great green Speaker told me I had been appointed Clerk of Remembered Things.

"Your predecessor forgot that they voted to close the city gates," it said. "We require a witness before the next ballot."

I had never been elected to anything. The lanterns argued that this made me ideally impartial. Above them, the forest groaned with the first wind of winter.