by Gene Wolfe
"We could have talked at dinner." Silk was thinking about Bison's salute. Bison had not tried to imitate a Guardsman's click, snap, and flourish, which would almost certainly have rendered him ridiculous; yet the salute had conveyed respect for order and the office of Caldé, plainly and even attractively.
"Not alone. Part of what I'm going to say…" Bison let the thought trail off.
Oosik rose. "We must speak more upon our topic, Caldé. Not now, but soon. I hope you agree."
Silk nodded, causing Oreb to hop from his head to his left shoulder.
"With your permission, I shall look in on my son. I hope he is well enough to attend. I will return at eight."
Silk glanced at the clock; it was after seven. "Of course. Tell your son, please, that all of us hold high hopes for his recovery." Oosik saluted and made an about face.
Stepping aside for Oosik, Horn put in, "Willet's back with Master Xiphias, Caldé. He asked me to tell you."
Silk was on the point of instructing Horn to call Hossaan by his true name, but thought better of it. If Hossaan had called himself Willet, Hossaan had no doubt had a reason.
"Master Xiphias's in the Blue Room. He says he doesn't have to see you before dinner unless you want to see him."
"That's good." Silk smiled. "I'm in dire need of people who don't have to see me. I wish that there were more. You'd better go home now, Horn, or you'll miss supper."
"Nettle and me are going to help. We'll get something."
"Fish heads?" Oreb inquired.
"If there are any, I'll save them for you," Horn promised.
"Very well, Horn, and thank you." Silk returned to Bison. "When I heard you were here early, I hoped that you had come to tell me you'd found Maytera Mint. I take it you haven't."
"No, Caldé, but that's what I want to talk to you about."
"Then sit down and do it. I don't have long before dinner-the other guests will be here soon-but we can finish up afterward if we must."
Bison sat; like Oosik, he seemed too large for the chair. "You've talked to Loris and Potto on a glass, Caldé."
Silk nodded.
"They won't talk to me. I know, because I tried before I came here. But they talked to you, and they might talk to you again. I want you to ask them to let you see General Mint for yourself. They say they've got her. Make them prove it."
"Why do you doubt them, Colonel?"
Bison sighed and leaned back. "I knew you'd ask that. I don't blame you, I would too. Just the same, I kept hoping you wouldn't."
"Poor man!" Oreb commiserated.
"When I ask to see her, they'll want to know why. I must have something to tell them, and the more compelling it is, the more likely it will be that they'll show her to us-assuming that they have her."
"You'll let me watch?"
"Certainly." Silk paused, his forefinger tracing circles on his cheek. "You're emotionally involved. Oreb senses it, and so do I. I hope you won't let your attachment to Maytera Mint, one that I feel myself, goad you into acting rashly.
"I hope so, too, Caldé." Bison clenched hairy fists that looked as big as hams. "You've been down in the tunnels. You said so during that meeting."
"Bad hole!"
"Well, so have I. Maybe I should've told you then, but I didn't because it didn't seem relevant and I didn't want you to think I was showing off. There's a way down in the Orilla, and I'm pretty sure there's more, besides the one under the Juzgado that Sand and his soldiers used."
Silk nodded. It had not occurred to him that Bison might be a thief, and he adjusted his mind to the new information as Bison spoke again.
"I got a hunch after a while. I remembered a place down there, an old guardroom that they used when there were soldiers underneath the city all the time. I had a feeling they might have taken her there, and went in with thirty of my troopers to check it out myself."
"Bad hole!" Oreb repeated; and Silk nodded again. "It is a bad hole, and I'm not in the least sure that what you did was wise, Colonel. I understand why you did it, however.
"We found the place all right." The big hands clasped and seemed intent upon pulling each other's fingers off "The door was open, and there were bloodstains all over the floor. Fresh blood, Caldé."
"Which could have been anybody's." Silk hoped that his expression did not reveal the dismay he felt. "Horn! Horn, would you come back in here for a moment, please?"
"When we got back to the sufface, I tried to talk to the Ayuntamiento on a glass," Bison continued. "There used to be one in that old guardroom, I think, but it was stolen a long time ago, if there was. Anyway, I tried to talk to Potto, and when he wouldn't, to Loris. Then to Tarsier or Galago. None of them would speak to me. That was when I came here."
"Did you ask your glass to find Maytera for you?"
Bison shook his head. "It didn't occur to me. Do you think they might have her where there's a glass?"
Horn burst in. "Yes, Patera? I mean Caldé.
"It's late," Silk said, "and I'm getting tired. It seems to me that I've been inviting people to dinner all day long, and relying on Maytera to keep track of everybody. Would you ask her, please, as soon as she has time, to write me a complete list of the guests we expect?"
"I can tell you, Caldé. Or write it out for you if you'd rather. I wrote the placecards and put them around."
"Tell me then. If I need a written list afterward, I'll have you do it."
"You, Caldé, at the head of the table. On your right will be Generalissimo Siyuf. Maytera said we had to put her there because the dinner was to welcome her to the city."
Silk nodded. "Quite right."
"Then His Cognizance. She'll be between you and him."
Oreb fluttered uncomfortably; Silk said, "Go on."
"Then General Saba, she's the captain of their airship. Then Colonel Bison."
"I'm Colonel Bison," Bison explained. "I came a little early to speak to the Caldé."
"Good man!" Oreb assured Horn.
"Horn is one of the boys at our palaestra," Silk told Bison. "The leader of the boys at our palaestra, I ought to say, and he's been worth a hundred cards to us. Continue, if you please, Horn."
"Sure. Colonel Bison, then Generalissimo Siyuf's staff officer, whoever she is. And then Maytera at the foot of the table, only I don't think she's going to sit down there much and talk to people, Caldé. She's too excited and worried about something going wrong in the kitchen. That's the chair closest to the kitchen."
"Of course.
"On her right there'll be General Saba's staff officer, then Chenille, then Master Xiphias."
"I'm beginning to lose track," Silk told him. "Where will Generalissimo Oosik sit?"
"On your left, Caldé. Then his son. When he got here, he said please put his son right beside him, because he's been so sick. He's worried about him."
"Naturally," Silk said.
"Then Master Xiphias on the Generalissimo's son's left."
"If I've been following you, there should be five people on the right side of the table and five on the left." Silk counted on his fingers. "Right-Siyuf, His Cognizance, Saba, Colonel Bison here, and Siyufs staff officer. Left-Oosik, his son, Xiphias, Chenille, and Saba's staff officer.
"That's right, Caldé, and you and Maytera make twelve."
"Bird eat?"
"Yes indeed." Silk smiled, glancing sidelong at Oreb. "I wouldn't think of dining without your company. Unfortunately you'd make thirteen at table the way things stand; you won't, however, because I'm asking Horn to ask Maytera to set one more place to my immediate left-a place for General Mint. Please letter a card for her as well, Horn, and set her place exactly like all the others. It will make the left side a trifle more crowded than the right, but the guests on that side will have to bear it."
"It's a real big table, Caldé. It won't be bad."
"I know, I've seen it. Perhaps General Mint will come. Let's hope so. She'll certainly be welcome if she does."
"Very welcome," Bison rumbl
ed.
"So they-no, wait a moment. What about Mucor? Surely she isn't going to help you in the kitchen. Isn't she going to eat with us?"
Horn looked slightly embarrassed. "Maytera thought it'd be better for her to eat in her room, Caldé. She isn't always-you know."
"Maytera Marble's granddaughter," Silk explained to Bison. "I don't believe you've met her."
Bison shook his head.
"She must certainly eat with us. Tell Maytera I insist upon it. She had better be close to Maytera, however. Put her on the right side, between Maytera and Generalissimo Siyuf's staff officer. That gives us six on each side, and fourteen places-fifteen diners in all, including Oreb. Be sure to letter a placecard for Mucor as well as one for General Mint."
Silk heaved a sigh of relief, feeling better than he had since early that morning; his informal dinner no longer seemed a mere formality, and when the dinner was over the formalities (which he had come to detest) would be over as well. "She may be dead," he told Bison. "With all my heart, I pray she isn't, but she may be."
Bison nodded gloomily.
"Even if she is, however-even if we were to find her body, even if we knew beyond doubt that she was dead-we dare not let the Trivigauntis know it, or even suspect we think it. She has won more victories than any other commander we've got, and the better chance they think we have of winning, the more help they will provide us. Am I making myself clear?"
Bison nodded again. "We mustn't let her troopers know, either. Half would go after her on their own, if they knew the Ayuntanriento's got her."
"Or your troopers. Quite correct." Silk pushed back his chair and stood up. "Come with me; there's a glass in the next room."
The gauntletted hand of old Jerboa withdrew the knife of sacrifice, and the calf fell to its knees and rolled over on its side, its spurting blood captured in an earthenware chalice held by one of the younger sibyls. With more dexterity than Auk would have believed he possessed, Jerboa cut off the calfs head and laid it on the fire. The right rear hoof gave him some difficulty, but he persisted.
A fleeting fleck of color in the Sacred Window caught Auk's eye. He gasped, and it was gone.
The impact of the call's final hoof sent up a fountain of scarlet sparks; Jerboa faced the Window, hands aloft. "Accept, O Great Pas-" He coughed. "Pas who art of all gods…"
The window bloomed pink, violet, and gold. As Auk watched open-mouthed, the dancing hues coalesced into a face of more than human beauty-one that he saw as plainly as he had ever seen any other woman's. "You seek my lover," the goddess said.
"We do, O Great Goddess." Jerboa's reedy old voice was weaker than ever. "We seek him because we seek to do his will."
Auk blurted, "He said he'd come if we'd find Patera."
The goddess's violet eyes left Jerboa. "So much love… So much love here. Auk? You are Auk? Find her, Auk. Clasp her to you. Never part."
"All right," Auk said, and repeated, "All right." It was difficult to argue with a goddess. "I sure will, Kindly Kypris. Only Pas gave us this job. We had to find Patera, so we did. Now we got to find Pas, got to get the two together, like."
"The Grand Manteion. Auk." The goddess's shining eyes left him, opening their bottomless lakes to Jerboa once more. "Will you go, old man? Dear old man, so filled with love…? Will you find my lover and your god? Jerboa?"
The old augur struggled to speak. Shell said, "I'll take him, Great Goddess. We'll go together." His voice was stronger than Auk had ever heard it.
Although he could not tear his gaze from hers, Incus, on his knees, scuttled backward. "I am pledged…"
"To prevent my mischief." Kypris's laughter was the peal of icy bells. "To kill fifty? A hundred children. Or more, that little Scylla may heed you. Homely little Scylla, with her father's temperament and her mother's intellect."
Incus seemed incapable of speech or motion.
"You'll require a sacrifice… Auk? Not children."
"Not children," Auk repeated, and felt an immense relief.
"My lover. Pas? My lover is engaged with his wife. At present." This time the precious bells were warm and merry. "Not in making more… Brats? You call them sprats. No. Oh, no. Wiping her out of core. Do you know what that means? Auk?" Kypris's smile found Shell. "Tell him…"
"He don't have to, Kindly Kypris. I got it."
"You will need a victim. To get my lover's attention. Not a child… Auk? Something unusual. Think upon it."
"A victim in the grand Manteion," Auk repeated numbly.
"Several. Perhaps. Auk. I offer no… Suggestions. But tonight. As quickly as you can." For a half-second her high, ivory-smooth brow wrinkled in thought. "The piece the old man has may aid him in the fight. I hope so."
As Silk limped into the room, one of the waiters provided by Ermine's pulled out his chair for him. He halted behind it, his hands resting on the back. Bison, smiling broadly, made his way down the table to his seat near the foot.
"Welcome," Silk said. He had intended to welcome them in the name of the gods, but the words died unspoken. "Welcome in the name of the City of Viron, to all of you. I deeply regret that I was unable to welcome most of you when you arrived; but I was engaged with Colonel Bison. Maytera will have welcomed you, I feel sure, in Scylla's name."
At the other end of the table, Maytera Marble nodded.
Xiphias whispered, "Sit down lad! Want your leg worse?"
"In which case," Silk continued, "I welcome you in the name of him who enlightened me, the Outsider, the only god I trust."
"He is right, Caldé." Oosik pushed back his chair. "If you will not, my son and I must rise. We cannot remain seated while our superior stands." The pale cornet on his left was struggling to get to his feet already.
"Of course. That was thoughtless of me, Generalissimo. I beg your pardon, and your son's." Silk sat, finding his inlaid rosewood chair rather too high. "I was about to say that I do trust him, now, though it's very hard for me to trust any god."
"We are like children, Patera Caldé," Quetzal told him, and Oreb flew from Silk's shoulder to perch upon the topmost level of the crystal chandelier. "A child has to trust its parents, even when they're not to be trusted."
The pale cornet looked up with a flash of anger that seemed as much a symptom as an emotion. "What are you two implying!"
"Nothing, Mattak. Nothing at all." His father's big hand covered his.
Siyuf's laugh was clear, pleasant, and unaffected. "So we feel of Sphigx, Caldé. But are we fighting among ourselves so quick as this? At home we make a rule that there is allowed no fighting until the fourth bottle."
"That's a good rule," Bison put in, still smiling. "But the tenth might be better."
The young officer had already relaxed, slumping back in his chair; Silk smiled, too. "I don't know what the proper form is, but this is a thoroughly informal dinner anyway. Generalissimo Siyuf, have you met your fellow diners? I know you know His Cognizance and Generalissimo Oosik."
"There is one I should particularly like to meet, Caldé Silk. That very promising girl who sits with Major Hadale."
The major, a gaunt, hard-faced woman of about forty, said, "Her name is Chenille, Generalissimo. She's living here in the palace temporarily."
Siyuf cocked an eyebrow at Silk. "I am surprise that you have not seated her next to you. She could fit in very easily here between you and me."
"Good girl!" Oreb assured Siyuf from his lofty perch.
"Major Hadale is correct," Silk told Siyuf. "Her name is Chenille, and she's a close friend. So much has happened since we met that I could call her an old one. She has been helping Maytera here, haven't you, Chenille?"
She stared down at her plate. "Yes, Patera."
"Is there anyone else? What about Master Xiphias?"
"I have not this pleasure." Siyuf's eyes remained upon Chenille.
"Master Xiphias is my fencing teacher and my friend, as well as the best swordsman I have ever seen."
"Rich, too, lad! Rich! You asked me
to open the window, remember? Up there in Ermine's! Everybody heard you! Think they'd stay away after that? Breaking my door down! Doubled my charges Molpsday, tripled them yesterday. It's the truth!"
"I am happy for you," Siyuf told him. "Your Caldé speaks of swordsmen. He has never seen a swordswoman, perhaps. Soon we must cross blades for him."
Silk recalled Hyacinth's feigned fencing with the azoth; to hide what he felt, he said, "We are neglecting the cornet. Neither Generalissimo Siyuf nor I have met you, Cornet. That is our loss, beyond doubt. Are you a swordsman? As a cavalry officer, you must be."
"I am Cornet Mattak, Caldé," the young officer announced politely. "My sword has been drawn against you. I'm sure you know that. Now I long to draw it again, in your service."
"You must recover your health first," his father told him.
Quetzal murmured, "I will pray for him, Generalissimo. We augurs teach others to pray for their foes. We try, at least. We seldom get a chance to pray for ours, because we have so few. I'm grateful for this opportunity."
Maytera Marble was equally grateful for the opportunity to turn the talk to religion. "It's Lord Pas who teaches us that, isn't it, Your Cognizance?"
"No, Maytera." Quetzal's hairless head swayed from side to side above his long, wrinkled neck.
Mattak said, "I want to apologize, Your Cognizance. I've been feverish…" His voice faded as he met Quetzal's gaze.
"My son has horrible dreams," Oosik explained to the table at large. "Even when he is awake-" He was interrupted by the arrival of the wine, a huge bottle rich with dust and cobwebs.
"We've an extensive cellar here," Silk told Siyuf, "laid down by my predecessor. Experts tell me a good deal of it may have soured, however. I know nothing about such things myself."
The sommelier poured him a half finger, releasing a light aroma suggestive of wildflowers. "Not this, Caldé."
