Epiphany of the Long Sun

by Gene Wolfe

  Hesitantly, Silk nodded.

  "Suppose you were to put a man on a hilltop twenty miles away, and tell him to ride as soon as he saw a lantern run up the flagpole of the Juzgado. It's the same principle."

  "I believe I understand."

  "When ordinary wire like we use gets cut, you can fix it by wrapping the ends together. With glass threads like you find in chems, that won't work. You've got to have a special tool they call on opticsynapter. We don't have one here because we don't use glass thread. We haven't any way to make it."

  Silk endeavored to ignore Maytera Marble's disappointment. "Then we must locate one of these tools-and someone who knows how to use it, I assume-and tie the glass threads? Is that correct? Then you can complete the repair?"

  Swallow shook his head. "If she went around with her hand hanging from the glass string, it would probably break. We can do the welding right now, and we'd better. When you find an opticsynapter she can take off her hand in the usual way. The operator shouldn't have any trouble fishing out the other end of the string."

  "Where would we find one?"

  "There you have me, Caldé. A doctor who specializes in chems should have one, but I don't know of one here in Viron."

  Chenille snapped her fingers. "I know somebody!"

  "Do you, dear? Do you really?" Maytera Marble's voice, usually so calm, trembled noticeably.

  "You bet. Stony had one of those strings cut where our talus had shot him, and Patera Incus fixed it for him so he could move again. He had a gadget to do it with, and that's what he said it was, an opticsynapter. I was watching him."

  Silk turned to Blood's emaciated daughter. "You were gone a few minutes ago, Mucor. Are you back with us? Please answer, if you can."

  She nodded. "With the Flier, Silk. Women have him. They want to know about the thing that lets him fly."

  "I see. Perhaps it would be wiser for us not to speak of that at present. I want you to search for Patera Incus for me, as well as Hyacinth and Auk. Do you know him?"

  After a silence that seemed long, Mucor said, "No, Silk."

  "He was a prisoner in your father's house for a while, at the same time I was. He's an augur too, short, with a round face and prominent teeth. A few years older than I. I realize you don't see things as we do, but that is how we see him."

  Mucor did not reply, and Maytera Marble passed her working hand before Mucor's eyes without result. "She's gone, Patera. She's looking for him, I think."

  "Let's hope she finds all three soon." Silk glanced up at Oreb. "Has the man finished working over there? Joining the iron, or whatever you'd call it?"

  "No fire! No more!"

  "Thank you. Come along, Director. As interesting as all this is, and potentially valuable, I can't spare more time for it. Your workman must begin Maytera's repair. You and I can discuss our contract while he works. How many taluses could you build at the same time if you called back all of the employees you've sent home? Don't exaggerate."

  "I won't. I just wish I had my charts here. The movement of parts, you know, Caldé, and the time required to make them."

  "How many?" Silk stepped around the screen into a clutter of metal tables, remembering at the final moment to smile at the leather-aproned craftsman at work there. "Good afternoon, my son. Thelxiepeia bless you."

  "Four, Caldé." Behind him, Silk heard Swallow's relieved exhalation. "I want to say five, but I can't guarantee it. We could start a fifth, once the first four are moving along."

  "Then the city will order four," Silk decided, "with the double front plates I described, heads of real bronze, and the shields. We must consider armament, too, I suppose, and price. How long will four require?"

  Swallow gnawed his lip. "I'm going to say two months. That's the best I can promise, Caldé."

  "Six weeks. Hire new people and train them-there are thousands of unemployed men and women in this city. Work day and night." Silk paused, considering. "The city agrees to pay a premium of six cards for each day less than forty-five. You have my word on that."

  Swallow licked his lips.

  From his perch on the screen, Oreb crowed, "Silk win!"

  Chapter 8

  To Save Your Life

  Repressing a shudder, Maytera Mint stepped over the dead man's leg, the last to go into the guardroom. Over Hyrax's leg, she told herself firmly. It was only Hyrax's leg, and not a thing of honor; Hyrax, a near-homophone of Hierax, was a name often given boys whose mothers had died in childbirth.

  Now, Maytera Mint reflected, Hierax had come for Hyrax.

  "They, the-ah…" Remora began, and fell silent.

  "Soldiers." Spider seated himself on a stool. "Soldiers got them." He pulled up his tunic and thrust his needler into his waistband, let the tunic fall into place again, and wiped his hands on his thighs. "See how good they got shot, Patera? Dead center, all three. That's soldiers' shootin'."

  "I would have thought that Hyrax's body would warn Guan," Maytera Mint ventured. She was looking down at Guan's body as she spoke. "He must have seen it, exactly as we did."

  Spider nodded. "That's why he figured there wasn't nobody layin' for him. He figured they'd of moved it if they were, and he had a slug gun, didn't he? I'd want to know more than feet in the door, wouldn't I? So he went in careful and had a look around, see? That's how I would of done, and that's how Guan did. Then he set his gun down, probably stood it in the corner, and got that water. That's when they got him, shot him from in back. See where he's lyin'? He was watchin' the door while he drank. He couldn't shut it without movin' Hyrax, and he hadn't done that yet, but he was watchin', only a soldier was in here with him that he didn't know about, and that's when he shot him."

  "May I sit, too?" Maytera Mint had found another stool. "May His Emminence?"

  "Sure."

  "We-er-arms? Should be armed." Remora was poking about the guardroom. "Slug guns, hey? Slug guns for soldiers, um, chems. Chemical persons, eh? All of them. The slug guns of the, um, departed."

  "They're gone," Spider informed him. "They all had slug guns. That's Guan, Hyrax, and Sewellel. A slug gun'll do for a soldier, and soldiers don't like them lyin' around.

  "I am sorry," Maytera Mint told him. "Genuinely sorry. You must understand that. I sympathize with your grief, not just conventionally but actually."

  "All fight. Sure."

  "Nevertheless, I have won our bet. You pledged your word to give me honest answers to three questions. If you would prefer to wait, I understand. We may not have long, however."

  "I might not," Spider told her. "That's what you're thinkin', isn't it? Say it."

  She shook her head. "I'm not, because I don't understand the situation sufficiently. When you've answered my questions, I may. Here is the first. The Army is by no means alone in its possession of slug guns. All Bison's troopers have them, as do many others. Yet you were entirely certain it was not one of Bison's troopers who had killed Paca. Why was that?"

  Remora put in, "He's answered already, hey? The-urn-accuracy. Precision.

  "Yeah, that. But we saw them, and the other boys shot at them. You said you heard shootin' when we had you locked up. Well, that was what you heard. It was soldiers, two or three, maybe. If they'd known there wasn't but five of us and me with no slug gun, they'd have shot it out, but they couldn't be sure we didn't have a couple dozen, that's what I think. So they beat hoof figurin' to chill us one at a time." He sighed. "We ought to of stuck together, but I didn't see it like that then."

  "Thank you." Maytera Mint laced her fingers in her lap as she considered. "If they have come to rescue His Eminence and me, there would be no reason for us to shoot them if we had slug guns to do it. That's not a question, Spider. It's a comment."

  "It's right enough, whichever it is. But if you're tryin' to find out who sent them or why, you're not goin' to get it out of me. I don't know. The Army's ours, the Ayuntamiento's. All the soldiers are supposed to know about us."

  "Possibly, um, councillor, eh?" Remora had carried
over a stool. "Might not he have come to-ah-dubiety? You have, um, informers? Against the general's forces, eh? Might not the councillor have come to fear that the Caldé, er, likewise? You?"

  "Maybe." Spider rose, went to the door, and taking Hyrax's wrists pulled him into the room. "But I don't believe it."

  "Nor do I," Maytera Mint murmured as Spider shut the door and bolted it.

  "You gamble, eh? Put yourself at hazard. And us. If the soldiers you apprehend are concealed, hey? There are other, um, chambers? In addition to this in which we, er, presently?"

  "That's the latrine," Spider told him, nodding toward an interior door. "We got one of those portable jakes in there. The other's the storeroom. Yeah, they could be in either one. Or locked out. I'll take that for now."

  He turned to Maytera Mint. "You got two more questions, General. You goin' to ask them? Or you want more water and somethin' to eat? You can eat first if you want to."

  Observing Remora's expression, she said, "Why can't we eat while I ask? We're adults."

  "Swell. Patera, you're the hungriest, right?"

  "I, er, possibly."

  "Then you go in and get it. The door's not locked. Go in there, have a look at the prog, and bring out whatever you and the general want. Fetch along some wine, too, and more water if you want it."

  Remora gulped. "If they are, hey? Inside?"

  "They most likely won't shoot you. Tell them they won't have to shoot me, neither. Tell them all I got's a needler. When we went up to that house, I figured a needler'd be plenty and leave a hand free. Besides, it's what I usually pack."

  "I shall emphasize the point, um, assuming." Remora faced about and bowed his head.

  "Well, get to it. Open the shaggy door."

  "He's praying," Maytera Mint explained. "He knows that he may be shot as soon as he does. He's commending himself to High Hierax and offering the other gods what may be his final prayers as a living person."

  "Well, make it quick!"

  "Thank you for answering my first question," Maytera Mint said to distract Spider. "I agree that you've answered fully and fairly, as specified. My second may be a bit touchier. I want to point out in advance that it concerns no confidential matters of our city's. Or of the Ayuntamiento's, in so far as the two can be distinguished.

  "Before I ask, would you like to pray too? If there are soldiers in there, which you seem to think possible, they are more likely to shoot you than His Eminence. And if they shoot His Eminence, they will certainly shoot us as well."

  Spider gave her a twisted grin. "How about you, General? You're a sibyl. Why aren't you prayin'?"

  She took out her beads and fingered them while she framed her answer. "Because I have prayed a great deal already during the past few days. I have been in danger almost constantly, and I've sent others into dangers far worse and prayed for them. I would only be repeating the petitions I've made so often. Also because I've told the gods again and again that I'm very willing to die if that is their will for me. If I were to pray, I would pray only that His Eminence, and you, be spared. I do so pray. Great Pas, hear my plea!"

  Spider grunted.

  "Furthermore, I don't believe there are soldiers hiding in here. I think that what must have happened was that one of them was in here looking for something. He heard Guan come in and hid, then came out and shot Guan after Guan's first and perhaps rather cursory examination failed to find him. Would the water have come from the storeroom?"

  Spider nodded. "Right."

  "Then I should think that the soldier was in the latrine. Since chems don't use them, he might have thought Guan wouldn't expect him there."

  Spider said nothing, sitting with eyes half shut, his back against the shiprock wall.

  "Here is my second question. You'll recall that Councillor Potto described the situation on the surface to His Eminence and me, then asked who was master of the city. His description made it clear that he was implying the Rani was. I take it you will concede that. You were present."

  "Sure. When her troopers come out of her airship, some of yours took shots at them. You know that?"

  "I do. Many died as a result of that tragic error."

  "Those troopers thought Viron was bein' invaded, and they were right. Sure, the Trivigauntis are goin' to help you fight us. Sure, they're goin' to make this Silk Caldé. But he'll lose his job the first time he balks. What's the question?"

  "You've answered it already, at least in part. I planned to ask what you know of the plans of the Trivigauntis."

  Remora cleared his throat. "I am-ah-readied. Also resolved. You yourselves, eh? Are you, um…?"

  "Go ahead," Spider told him.

  Remora took two determined steps to his right and threw wide the door.

  "That's the latrine, you putt!"

  Calmly, Remora turned. "I am, ah, was aware of it. I, um, eavesdropped, eh? Couldn't help it. The General, um, indicated that this, ah, necessary room would be the point of greatest, er, greater hazard. I revere her intellect. More than your own, if I may be thus-ah-incivil."

  "Usually I do better than this," Spider told him. "Now get in there where you're s'posed to, and don't forget to bring me out a bottle."

  "You would-ah-indubitably have had me, um, risk the necessary room as well." Remora opened the storeroom door as he spoke. "I therefore, eh? Advised by the immortal gods. Or so I would like to, um, have it. The greater risk first."

  He stepped into the storeroom. "As for, ah, this…" He clapped to brighten the single dull light on the ceiling. "It is equally, um, innocent? Unpeopled."

  "In that case, I would like another bottle of water, Your Eminence," Maytera Mint declared firmly, "if it's not too much trouble. And some bread, if there is any. Meat, too. I would be very grateful." To Spider she continued, "I inquired about what you knew, you'll notice, not what you guessed. Do you know this? Or is it speculation?"

  "I know it. Now you'll want to know how I know."

  She shook her head, marveling to find herself-little Maytera Mint from Sun Street!-haggling with such a man over such a matter. "I won't require you to reveal your sources."

  "I'll tell you anyhow. Councillor Potto told me before we went up there. He wasn't just guessin', neither."

  Remora emerged from the storeroom with a dusty wine bottle, two even dustier bottles of water, and several small packages wrapped in tinted synthetic.

  Spider accepted the wine. "Brown's bread and red's meat. I ought to of told you, but I guess you worked it out yourself."

  "It was not-ah-cryptic." Remora sat down. "This, er, packet is unopened, Maytera. I, hum, sampled the other. Somewhat saline, but tasty."

  She accepted a red package and unwrapped it eagerly; it held flat strips of what seemed to be dried beef. "We thank all gods for this good food," she murmured. "Thanks to Fair Phaea, especially. Praise Pasturing Pas for fat cattle." She tore the leathery meat with her teeth and thought it sweet as sugarcane.

  "Councillor Potto can lie birds out of a tree," Spider drew the cork of the wine bottle with a pop. "I've heard him to where I just about believed him myself. You said while we were talkin' in the tunnel that you figured I could fool you if I wanted to. I'm not so sure, but Councillor Potto could put it over on me, and I know it. Only this wasn't that. He just said it, listenin' to himself. I don't think he cared a sham shaggy bit whether I believed it. But I do, and I've known him twenty years, like I said."

  Maytera Mint nodded and swallowed. "Thank you. And thank you, Your Eminence, for this food. I thanked the gods, I fear, but not their proximal agent."

  "Quite all right, eh? Um-delighted. Have some bread." Remora handed her a brown-wrapped package. "Strengthening. Ah-fortifying."

  "Thank you again. Thank you very much. All praise to Fruiting Echidna, whose sword I am."

  She paused as she tore the loaf. "Spider, I'll ask my final question, if I may. I won't be able to, with my mouth full of this good bread. You may not know the answer."

  "If I don't know, I don't."
He wiped the top of the wine bottle on his cuff and held it out to her. "You want to bless this, too, while you're doin' everythin' else?"

  "Certainly." Maytera Mint laid the bread in her lap with the remainder of the dried beef and traced the sign of addition over the bottle. "Praise to you, Exhilarating Thelxiepeia, and praise to you, likewise, dark son of Thyone."

  "Want a drink? Help yourself."

  She sipped cautiously, then more boldly.

  "I bet that was the first wine you ever had in your life. Am I right?"

  She shook her head. "Laymen-they are men in fact, very largely-give us a bottle now and then. When it happens, we have a glass at dinner until it's gone." She hesitated. "We did, I should have said. Maytera Rose and I did, but we won't any more. She passed away last Tarsday, and I've scarcely had a moment to mourn her. She was…"

  "A, umph, excellent sibyl," Remora put in. He chewed and swallowed. "Doubtless. I did not have the-ah-happiness of her acquaintance. But doubtless, eh? No doubt of it."

  "A good woman whom life had treated sufficiently roughly that she struck out, at times, before she was struck." Maytera Mint finished pensively. "Toward the end she struck at others habitually, I would say. It could be unpleasant, and yet her asperity was fundamentally defensive. That's good wine. Might I have a little more, Spider?"

  "Sure thing."

  "Thank you." She sipped again. "Perhaps His Eminence would like some too."

  "Dimber with me."

  Maytera Mint wiped the mouth of the bottle and passed it to Remora. "My third question now. As I said, you may not know the answer. But what was the original purpose of these tunnels? I've been wondering ever since our Caldé described them to me, and it may be important."

  Spider leaned back, his homely heavy-featured face tilted upward and his eyes closed. "That's somethin' I can tell you all right, but I got to think."

  "As I say-"

  He leaned forward once more, his eyes open and one large hand tugging at his stubbled jaw. "I didn't say I don't know. Councillor Potto told me about them. One thing he said was it wasn't just one thing. There's three or maybe four, and they go under the whole whorl. You know that?"