I was born without sight in a mud and straw shelter on the outskirts of the city of Norvalis. Being blind, I was given no name. Or rather, the name that had been given to me at birth was rescinded upon the discovery of my affliction. Unfit for the requisite duties of a peasant child, I was rejected by my family. They wrapped me in a tattered cloth and carted my infant body to Norvalis where an orphanage had been established at the edge of the city for children who shared disabilities similar to mine.
Raised in part by the clergy of a nearby cathedral, my first recollections were of committing prayers and hymns to memory. Each day a stern man entered my room and listened silently as I recited the previous day's teachings. Upon leaving, the man would advise me to pray to God for forgiveness. "Our Lord has disallowed you to look upon Him and His creation," the man said. "Sight is the most magnificent of all divine sanctions, and it has been denied to you. But God is truly merciful child, you need only ask him and he will favor you with sight."
Without the knowledge of what it meant to see, only that it was a faculty I had been deprived of, I implored God to revoke his curse. I begged he tell me ways in which I was to atone for my sins. Struggling with all my strength, I would lift my frail body upwards toward the open window above my bed. As I heard the wind rustling through leaves and smelled the scent of flowers canvassing the ground below, I beseeched escape from my confinement and an end to the deficiency that had placed me there. When my feeble arms would support my weight no longer I would drop from the window and wail with frustration and despair.
Years passed like breathless whispers, vague and unknown, and my entreaties went unfulfilled. At the age of fourteen, I was told by the clerics that a new advisor had arrived in Norvalis and that he would be overseeing my lessons. The man was named Benedictus. Illness had recently bereaved him of his wife, leaving his daughter Ariana motherless. I was told that Benedictus had abandoned his modest home in a neighboring town and traveled to Norvalis with Ariana seeking the opportunities that the city could provide. He sought employment at the orphanage and due to his level of education had been welcomed by its administrators. Shortly following the announcement of Benedictus' arrival, I was informed that he wished to speak to each of the children placed under his care individually.
My fingertips gliding along the coarse granite walls as I proceeded, I cautiously guided myself through the hallway. Filled with apprehension, I rapped reluctantly upon the heavy wooden door of the quarters that had been chosen for him from which to conduct his affairs. Muffled footsteps were heard and with a faint rush of air the door was opened.
"Welcome. Come in, come in," a booming voice echoed through the halls. "Please, have a seat."
Before I could reply or make a move, my left arm was clutched firmly above the elbow and I was led to a tottering wooden chair further into the room. Once seated, there was a protracted period of silence. I could sense Benedictus quietly staring at me, a mannerism I had grown to despise among the other administrators. I shifted uneasily in my seat.
"Forgive me, I only wished to study your face so that I may remember it," the man said, sensing my discomfort. "If I may, I would like to introduce myself. As you may know, my name is Benedictus. My daughter and I have come to this great city as refugees fleeing the oppression of grief. The ministers of this establishment have charged me with overlooking the studies of you and your companions. From this moment onward I will be your benefactor. Tell me your name child."
I hesitated. "I have been given no name, sir."
"You have been stationed here for nearly fifteen years and you have not been afforded so much as a name?" he asked with disbelief.
"Had I needed a name, sir, I am sure that one would have been provided for me."
"Child, our names are our bonds to this Earth, you must have one. I will leave the choice to your discretion."
I contemplated, admiring the foreign characteristic of patience exhibited by the man before me. "If I am to have a name," I said at last, "I would choose to be named rather than to name myself."
