by Gene Wolfe
“Yes. Yes, of course. I should have thought of something like that, Maytera. Welding? Is that that they call it?”
Hossaan said, “That’s what they call it when they fix a floater.”
“It’s not just reuniting the metal, Patera. There are little tubes in there, tiny tubes, and wires, and things like threads — fibers, they’re called — that pipe light. Look.” She held up her useless right arm, pushing back the sleeve so that he could see the sheared end. “Marl thought they might be able to do it. He’s as old as I was, Patera, and I don’t think he always reasons correctly any more. But…”
Silk nodded. “It’s your only chance. I understand.”
“Marl would have given me the money if he’d had it, but he’s very poor. This Fulmar doesn’t pay him, just clothes and a place to live. And even if I had money, they might not want to try it, Marl said, unless I had a great deal.”
“Believe me, I’ll help you, Maytera. We’ll go as quickly as we can. You have my word on it.”
She had taken a large white handkerchief from her empty sleeve. “I’m so sorry, Patera.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I can’t really cry, not for a long, long time. And yet I feel that way. There’s so much work, with you gone and Patera Gulo gone, and Maytera Mint gone, and my granddaughter to take care of, and just one hand for everything.”
Silk reached another decision. “I’m going to take you away, too, Maytera, for the time being at least. You and Mucor both. I need you both, and it’s too dangerous for you — and for her, particularly — to be here alone. Will you come with me if I ask you to? Remember, I’m still the augur of this manteion.”
She looked up at him with a new glow behind the scratched, dry lenses of her eyes. “Yes indeed, Patera, if you tell me to. I’ll have to straighten up first and put things away. Put a notice on the door of the palaestra so the children will know.”
“Good. There’s a Calde’s Palace on the Palatine, as well as the Prolocutor’s. I’m sure you must remember when the calde lived there.”
She nodded.
“I’m reopening it. I’ve slept in the Juzgado the past few nights, but that’s never been more than an expedient; if Viron’s to have a new calde, he has to live in the Calde’s Palace. I’ll need a place to entertain Generalissimo Siyuf when she arrives, to begin with. We’ll want an official welcome for her and her troops, too, and I’ll have to notify Generalissimo Oosik as soon as possible. Thousands of fresh troops are certain to change his plans.”
Silk turned to Hossaan. “How long do we have? Can you give me some idea?”
“Not an accurate one, Calde. I’m not sure when she left Trivigaunte, and Siyul’s a famous hard marcher.”
“A week?”
“I doubt it.” Hossaan shook his head. “Three or four days, at a guess.”
“Patera.” Maytera Marble touched Silk’s arm. “I can’t live in the same house with a man, not even an augur. I know nothing will — but the Chapter…”
“You can if he’s ill,” Silk told her firmly. “You can sleep in the same house to nurse him. I’ve a chest wound — I’ll show it to you as soon as we get there, and you can change the dressing for me. I’m also recovering from a broken ankle. His Cognizance will grant you a dispensation, I’m sure, or the coadjutor can. Hossaan, can you take us back to the Juzgado? There will be four of us.”
“Sure thing, Calde.”
“I don’t have a floater at present, except for the Guard floaters, and Oosik needs those. Perhaps I could hire you and your floater — we’ll talk about it.
“Maytera, do whatever you must, and tack up that note. I was hoping to sacrifice here and go to the Cock when I left, but both will have to wait. Tomorrow, perhaps.
“Hossaan, I’m going into the manse for a moment while she does all that; then we’ll collect Mucor and a young woman who came here with me, and pay off my litter.”
“I heard you had a pet bird,” Saba said, eyeing Oreb; she was a massive woman with a marked resemblance to an angry sow.
Silk smiled. “I’m not sure pet’s the correct word. I’ve been trying to set him free for days. The result has been that he comes and goes as he pleases, says anything he wants, and seems to enjoy himself far more than I do. Today we went back to my manteion, mostly to enlist Maytera Marble’s help in airing this place out. I got some important news there, by the way, which I’ll give you in a moment.”
“That’s right.” Saba snapped her fingers. “You holy men are supposed to be able to find out the gods’ will by looking at sheep guts, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Some of us are better at it than others, of course, and no one’s ever suggested that I’m much better than average. Don’t you have augurs in Trivigaunte?”
“No cut!” Oreb required reassurance.
“Not you, silly bird. Positively not.” Silk smiled again. “I got him as a victim, you see; and though I’ve ruled that out, he’s afraid I’ll change my mind. What I wanted to tell you is that I went into the manse to see if I’d left my beads there Phaesday night. I should have said earlier that he’d flown off when I got out of my litter.
“Well, I went into the kitchen because I empty my pockets on the kitchen table sometimes, and there he was on the larder. ‘Bird home,’ he told me, and seemed quite content; but he rode out on my shoulder when I left.”
“He sounds like a good trooper,” Saba leaned back in her ivory-inlaid armchair. “You have so many male troopers here. I’m still getting used to them, though most fight well enough. I have news for you, too, Calde, when you’ve given me yours.”
“In a moment. To tell the truth, I’m afraid you’ll rush off the minute you hear it and I want to ask about augury in Trivigaunte. Besides, Chenille’s making coffee, and she’ll be disappointed if we don’t drink it. She wants to meet you, too — you helped save her; she was one of the hostages at Blood’s.” Seeing that Saba did not understand him, Silk added, “The villa in the country.”
“Oh, there. You were the one we came after, Calde.”
“But you saved Chenille too, and Patera Incus and Master Xiphias — you and Generalissimo Oosik, and several thousand of General Mint’s people, I ought to say.”
Saba nodded. “We were a little part, but we did what we could. Where’s Mint, anyhow?”
“Trying to turn courageous but untrained and undisciplined volunteers into a smoothly running horde, I assume. I’ve tried to do that sort of thing myself on a much smaller scale — with the mothers of the children at our palaestra, for example. I don’t envy her the task.”
“You’ve got to get rough with them, sometimes,” Saba told him, looking as if that were the aspect she enjoyed. “There’s times to be pals, all troopers together. And there’s times when you need the karbaj.”
Silk wisely refrained from asking what the karbaj was. “About augury. From what you said, I take it that it’s not practiced in Trivigaunte? Is that correct?”
Saba inclined her head, the movement barely perceptible. “You try to make the gods like you by cutting up animals. We don’t. I’m not trying to offend you.”
“Not at all, General.”
“I’m a plain-spoken old campaigner, and I don’t pretend to be anything more. Or anything less. A simple old trooper. The way things are here makes me try and act like an ambassador, so I do my best.” She laughed loudly. “But that’s not too good, so I’ll give it to you straight. Your customs seem backwards to me, and I keep waiting for them to turn around. Take her, now.” Saba pointed to Chenille, who had entered with a tray. “Here’s a woman and a man talking, and a woman waiting on them. I’m not saying you never see that at home, but you don’t see it often.”
“But to get back—” Silk accepted a cup. “Thank you, Chenille. You didn’t have to do this, and I’m not sure General Saba realizes that. Goodness and servility look alike at times, though they’re very different. Won’t you sit down?”
“If I won’t bother you.”
“Of course not. We’l
l be happy to have your company, and I know you were anxious to meet General Saba. She’s the commander of the Rani’s airship.”
“I know.” Chenille gave Saba an admiring smile.
“She was one of your rescuers. Generalissimo Oosik told me afterward that he’d be delighted to see the kind of efficiency her pterotroopers displayed in a brigade of our Guard.”
“They’re picked women, every one of them,” Saba told Silk complacently. “The competition to get in is fierce. We turn away ten for each we take.”
“I want to get back to augury. If I seem to be harping on it, I hope you’ll excuse me; I was trained as an augur, and I doubt that I’ll ever lose interest in it entirely. But first, would it be possible for me to go up in your airship some time?”
Saba winked at Chenille, her brutal face briefly humorous.
“One of the students — his name is Horn, and he’s acting as a messenger here for the present — told me not long ago that he’d dreamed of flying. So have I, though I didn’t admit it to Horn, or even to myself when I spoke with him.”
“Bird fly!” Oreb proclaimed.
“Exactly. We can scarcely look up without seeing a bird; and there are fliers every few days, proving it can be done. When I was a boy, I used to imagine they were shouting, “We can fly and you can’t!” up there too high to be heard. I knew it was foolish, but the feeling has never left me entirely.”
“Wing good.” Hopping onto Silk’s head, Oreb displayed it.
“He couldn’t fly for a while,” Silk explained. “Before that I doubt that he took much pride in it.”
“I’m going to surprise you, Calde,” Saba announced. “You are welcome to visit my airship anytime. Just let me know when you’re coming so I can get things trooper-like for you.”
“Of course.” Silk sipped from his cup, pausing to admire the delicate porcelain, brave with gilt and holding a painted Scylla as well as coffee.
“If that were wine, I’d tell you I was going to fit you up with wings like my girls”, the teeth of Saba’s underjaw showed in a savage grin, “and shove you out. But sham diplomats don’t get to make that sort of a joke.”
Silk sighed. “I’d thought about it. I’m not at all sure I have the courage, but perhaps I might try.”
“Don’t. You’d be crippled for life if you weren’t killed. My girls start with a platform that would fit in this room. I — who’s that!”
“Who?” Silk glanced at the doors; so did Chenille.
“There was a face in that mirror.” Saba stood up, her cup still in her hand. “Somebody that isn’t in here, somebody I’ve never seen before. I saw her!”
“I’m sure you did, General.” Silk put down his coffee.
“You’ve only just reopened this palace, isn’t that right?”
“Less than an hour ago, actually. Maytera Marble and—”
“A secret passage.” Saba’s tone brooked no contradiction. “The mirror’s a peephole, and somebody’s spying from in there already. One passage at least, and there could be more, I’ve seen some at home. What’s that girl doing?”
Chenille had gone to the mirror and grasped the sides of its ornate frame with both hands. “It’s dusty,” she told Silk. “They had dust covers over all this, but dust got in anyhow.” With a grunt of effort, she lifted the mirror from its hook; behind it was featureless plaster, somewhat lighter in color than that to either side.
Silk had risen when Saba did. He limped to the wall and rapped it with his knuckles, evoking solid thuds. Saba stared, her wide mouth working.
“Want me to put this back, Patera?” Chenille inquired.
“I don’t think so. Not yet, at least. I’ll do it, or Master Xiphias can. Can you put it down without dropping it?”
“I think so. I’m pretty strong.”
The heels of Saba’s polished riding boots came together with a click. “I apologize, Calde. I’m leaving. Again, I regret this very much.”
“Don’t go yet,” Silk said hastily. “Your Generalissimo Siyuf is bringing us thousands of—”
Saba’s cup fell to the costly carpet, splashing it and her gleaming boots with black coffee. “That’s the news I was going to tell you! You — you learned that from animal guts?”
Chapter 3 — The First Theophany on Thelxday
Three busy days after Saba had dropped her coffee, Marrow the greengrocer abandoned the pleasant anticipation of the parade that was to close the market early to stare at the weary prophet nearing his stall. “Auk?” Marrow smoothed his fruit-stained apron. “Aren’t you Auk?”
“That’s me.” The prophet stepped out of the wind to lean against a table piled with oranges.
“You’re a friend of the calde’s. That’s what they say.”
“I guess.” Auk saatched his stubbled jaw. “I like him, anyhow, and I brought a ram when Kypris came. I don’t know if he likes me, though. If he don’t, I don’t blame him.”
Marrow wiped his nose on his sleeve. “You’re a friend of General Mint’s, too.”
“Everybody is now. That’s what I hear.”
“Scleroderma told me. You know her? The butcher’s wife.”
Auk shook his head.
“She knows you, and she says you used to come to Silk’s manteion, on Sun Street.”
“Yeah. I know where it is.”
“She says you’d sit in a little garden they’ve got and talk to her. To General Mint. Would you like an orange?”
“Sure, but I don’t have the money. Not that I can spend.”
“Take some. Wait a minute, I’ll get you a bag.” Marrow hurried to the back of his stall, and Auk slipped a peach into his pocket.
“Now you’re going around talking about the Plan of Pas. Would you like some bananas? Real bananas from Urbs?”
Auk looked at the price. “No,” he said.
“Free. I’m not going to charge you.”
Auk straightened up, filling his barrel of a chest with air. “Yeah. I know. That’s why I don’t want any. Listen up. I’d steal your bananas, see? That’s lily. I’d steal ’em and riffle your till, ’cause that’s the kind I am. I’m a dimber thief, and Tartaros needs cards for something we’re planning to do. Only I won’t let you give me bananas. They cost you too much, and it wouldn’t be right.”
“But—”
“Muzzle it.” Auk had begun to peel an orange, pulling away bright cusps of rind with strong, soiled fingers. “I got a mort back in the Orilla I’m supposed to take care of. She’s hungry, and she’s not used to it like me. So if you want to put oranges and maybe a couple potatoes in that sack, I’ll thank you for ’em and take ’em to her. No bananas, see? But nab the gelt off these that want to buy first. I’ll take the sack when you’re done, if you still want to give it.”
“That’s Auk the Prophet,” Marrow whispered to the crowd around his stall. “A dozen yellow apples, madame? And two cabbages? Absolutely! Very fresh and very cheap.”
A few minutes later he told Auk, “I want to take you over to Shrike’s as soon as my boy gets back. Scleroderma’s husband? He’ll let you have a bite or two of meat, I’m sure.”
There were two hundred, if not more, waiting for Auk in the Orilla, and another hundred following him. Tartaros whispered, “You are fatigued, Auk my noctolater, and cold.”
“You got the lily there, Terrible Tartaros.”
“Therefore you are liable to be impatient.”
“Not me. I been fired and cold up on the roof, when they were looking with dogs.”
“Be warned. This time the prize is greater.”
Auk shouldered their way through the crowd, halted at the door of the boarded-up shop that had been his destination, and put down the bags he carried. “Listen up, all you culls.”
The crowd hushed.
“I don’t know what you want, but I know what I want. I want to leave this stuff with the dell inside. She’s hungry, and some cullys in the market gave me this for her. If you want to see me, you’ve done it. If
you want to hear me, you’ve done that, too. If it’s something else, let me give her these and we’ll talk about it.”
A voice from the crowd called, “We want you to sacrifice!”
“You’re abram. I’m no augur.” Auk pounded on the warped door. “Hammerstone! Look alive in there!”
The door opened; at the sight of the towering soldier, the crowd fell silent. “This ain’t one of the Ayuntamiento’s,” Auk shouted hastily. “He’s working for the gods like I am, only when we were corning here…” He tried to remember when they had come; although he vividly recalled watching Hammerstone free himself from tons of shattered shiprock, he could not shut his mind upon the day. “It was when the Alambrera gave up. Anyway all these trooper culls were taking shots at him, so we figured it was better for him to pull it in.”
Behind him Hammerstone hissed. “Ask if Patera’s here.” It was like receiving confidences from a thunderhead.
“Patera Incus!” Auk shouted. “We’re looking for this real holy augur named Patera Incus. Somebody said something about a sacrifice. Is Patera Incus out there?”
Voices from the back of the crowd: “You do it!”
From behind Hammerstone, Hyacinth inquired urgently, “Is there food in those? I want it.”
Tartaros whispered, “Tell them you will,” by some miracle overcoming the clamor of the crowd.
Auk was so surprised he turned to look. “What the shaggy — I mean yeah, dimber, Terrible Tartaros. Anything.” Passing both sacks to Hammerstone, he cupped his hands around his mouth. “I’ll sacrifice. You got it!”
“When?” Four men lifted a terrified brown kid over their heads; its unhappy bleats were visible, although inaudible.
“Now, Auk my noctolater.”
“Now!” Auk repeated.
A thin man whose coat and hat had once been costly asked, “You say you’re doing the gods’ will. Will a god appear?”
Auk waited for assurance from the blind god at his side, but none was forthcoming.
Others took up the question. “Will a god come?”
