by Gene Wolfe
“What about Guan?” Maytera Mint inquired. “Aren’t we going to bury him, too? Wouldn’t you like His Eminence to pray for him as well? Perhaps we could make it a group ceremony.
“Guan’s not for ice.”
“Certainly he is.” She sighed. “Where is your stretcher?”
“He’ll be along in a minute.”
“Thirsty, eh? Might we, um, hungry, likewise.”
“So am.I,” Maytera Mint declared. “You have a stretcher somewhere, or so you say, Spider. If there’s food and water there, too, may we not go to it?”
“I, ah—”
“You ate and drank last night, I assume, and this morning. You, Guan, Paca, and the others. We didn’t.”
Spider clambered to his feet. “All right, you two, you got it. Come on. I want to see what’s keepin’ those putts.”
“Ah — water? And, um, something to eat?”
“Sure thing. We got prog and plonk. There’s a well, too. I ought to of let you have some last night. You need a hand up, Patera? How ’bout you, Maytera?”
“I’m fine, thank you, Spider.”
“I — ah — give warning,” Remora said as Spider helped him to stand. “The next, um, instance. Strike the General. Or me. I shall attack, eh? Will. Martyr, hey? Gone but — um, er — commemorated. Unforgotten.”
“He isn’t going to,” Maytera Mint told Remora briskly. “We are past all that hitting and hating with Spider. Don’t you understand, Your Eminence?”
“Come on,” Spider repeated, and started down the tunnel. “You want to eat? I’ll bet you anythin’ they aren’t cold.”
“Um, forbidden.”
“Wagering is contrary to the regulations of the Chapter,” Maytera Mint explained, “but I am prepared to violate them and accept whatever punishment may be meted out to me. I say that they are dead, all of them. The men you sent for the stretcher, and Guan, too. As dead as Paca. Will you take my bet?”
“Sure thing.” Spider had drawn his needler again. “I got a card says I’m right.”
“I don’t want your card. What I want are answers to three questions. You must promise to answer in full. No lies and no evasions. No half truths. What will you have from us if we lose? We haven’t any money, or at least I have none.”
Spider halted, waiting for her. “I donno, sib. Maytera, I mean. That’s better, huh? You call each other sib, though.”
She nodded. “We call one another sib, which is short for sibyl, because maytera is reserved for the sibyl in charge of the cenoby in which we live. There’s only one other sibyl in my cenoby since Maytera Rose passed on, Maytera Marble. She is senior to me, so she is in charge. I will call her Maytera when next we meet, assuming that Maytera Rose has been buried.”
“You, too, huh? Well, I’m sorry, Maytera. Come on, Your Eminence, shake it up.”
“His Eminence has a gold gammadion set with gems,” Maytera Mint confided. “He might be willing to make it my stake in our bet. I’ll try to persuade him.”
Spider shook his head. “I could nab it anytime.”
“Certainly you could, but you would have stolen it. Though Tenebrous Tartaros, whose realm this surely is, is the patron of thieves, I doubt very much that he approves of stealing from augurs, and all the other gods surely condemn it. If you won His Eminence’s gammadion you would have acquired it honesdy, and would have no reason to fear divine retribution.”
“Yeah. But you don’t think I’ll win.”
Maytera Mint shook her head. “No, I don’t. I will not deceive you, Spider. I am as sure as I can be without having seen them that all those men are dead. If you accept my bet, you’ll have to answer my questions, one for each dead man.”
“All right, I’ll tell you what I want, Maytera. But I’m goin’ to call you General. That’s who I want to bet with, the rebel general. Can I do that? Patera does.”
“Certainly. I’d prefer it, in fact.”
“You figure I’m a thief. I can tell by the way you were talkin’ a minute ago. That’s the lily, isn’t it, General?”
“You employ a great deal of cant, Spider, and cant is used principally by thieves. Also by prostitutes, with whom I’ve spoken now and then, but most of them steal when it seems safe.”
“Most everybody will,” Spider told her positively.
“Perhaps. If so, it is small wonder that the gods show us no more affection than they do.”
“Well, I ain’t a thief. I talk like I do ’cause we’re with them a lot. Spies don’t ken with people like you, General, or this other sibyl you call Maytera. She don’t know anythin’ they need, see? You do, but if they were to ken with you, they’d need a shaggy good reason or you’d start thinkin’, why’s he around all the time?” Spider paused for breath.
“You go to some city to look into things, you know, and you want somebody local to help out, what you want’s a thief six to one. When we got to have new blood, that’s where we look, too. Not always, but mostly.”
“I understand, Spider…”
“Out with it.”
“Very well.” Maytera Mint took a deep breath. “Were you a thief previously? Is that how you came to be a spy-catcher?”
He grinned at her, displaying crooked and discolored teeth. “What makes you think you can believe me, General?”
“I’m a good judge of character.”
“I’d lie to you.”
“Indeed you would, and you might do it so skillfully, that I would think you were telling the truth. But you won’t lie to me about this, not here and not now. Were you? It’s none of my affair, and to confess the truth there is a thief I taught when he was a child of whom I’m very fond. His name is Auk.”
“I know him,” Spider said.
“You do? That hadn’t occurred to me, but now that you’ve mentioned it, no doubt you must. Does he — is he one of your knot, as you call it?”
“That’d feague you, huh? He’s not. Auk won’t work for anybody else, and he’s too peppery for my trade anyhow. I wasn’t a thief either. I was a hoppy. You believe that?”
“If you say it’s true, absolutely. May I ask why you left the Calde’s Guard?”
“They callin’ it that again? That’s what it was when I went in, then they changed it. They kicked me out. Let’s not talk about why.”
Remora, who had caught up with them and overheard much of their conversation, muttered, “No, ah, never. Only shriving, hey? There — um — solely.”
“I won’t ask,” Maytera Mint promised.
“Pulled off my stripes and put them on my back. I could show you the scars. Cull called Desmid brought me in. He’s cold. I been catchin’ spies for Viron twenty-two years now. I don’t know how many I’ve nabbed or helped nab, thirty or forty. Could be more, and there’s a lot we don’t want to nab but could anytime we wanted to. I’m tellin’ you ’cause of what I want my end of our bet to be. I’m stickin’ with Councillor Potto, see? Twenty-two years I been workin’ for him, and he took me when I didn’t have two bits or a padken. I’m his man, always will be.”
“In that case, let us hope a peace can be arranged that will permit Councillor Potto to retain his seat.”
Spider nodded. “Sure thing. All right, let’s talk about this bet. First off, these three questions. Suppose you were to ask me who my boys are, the ones you think’s yours. I can’t tell you names. You see that? I won’t lie to you, General, but I won’t tell, either.”
“I understand. I won’t ask you to betray your friends.”
“All right, here’s what I want. If your side wins and you get loose, you don’t nab me and my knot for spyin’ on you, or for holdin’ you like we’re doin’.”
Maytera Mint started to speak, but Spider raised his hand. “That’s not all. You let us keep doin’ what we been doin’ for Viron. You’re goin’ to need us worse than you think. If you do that, I’ll tell what’s gone on before, and give you the files.”
“I can’t. I would accept that bet if I could, cheerfully
and without hesitation. But those are matters for the calde and the new Ayuntamiento, not for me.”
“The, um, terms. He, er, designated? Specified yourself General. Not the — ah — reconstituted Ayuntarniento or the calde, hey?”
“But he means our side. The calde, Generalissimo Oosik, and even the Trivigauntis. Don’t you, Spider? For myself, I would give you my word, as I said. In fact, I do, whether I win or lose. But I cannot bind the calde and an Ayuntamiento that does not yet exist.”
“But you’ll promise, General? Personally?”
“Absolutely. I have and I do.”
Spider indicated Remora with a jerk of his thumb. “Have him flash that gaud. Pas’s cross. You can swear on that.”
“If you wish. Will you allow me my three questions, when I win? Full, honest answers?”
“Sure thing. I’ll swear too, if you want.”
“Then it won’t be necessary.”
Remora had produced his gammadion; Maytera Mint laid her hand upon it. “I, General Mint of the Horde of Viron, called by some the rebel or insurgent forces, I who am also Maytera Mint of the Sun Street mantelon, do hereby swear that should we prevail I will not punish nor attempt to punish this man Spider and his subordinates for their activities in collecting intelligence for the Ayuntamiento as presently constituted. I further swear that I will do everything I can to prevent others from so punishing them, short of force. In addition, I will actively support their being retained in their function, that is to say the counterintelligence function, in which they have served our city faithfully. I will do these things whether I win my wager with Spider or lose it.”
She drew breath. “Is that satisfactory?”
“Ought to cover it.”
“Great Pas, bear witness! Ophidian Echidna, whose sword I am, bear witness! Scintillating Scylla, Patroness of Our Holy City of Viron, bear witness!”
“Good enough.” Spider held out his hand. “Have we got a bet? Shake on it.” Solemnly they shook hands, her own small hand enveloped in a thickly muscled one twice its size.
“All right, I’ll tell you right now I got a lock. We’re almost there.” He gestured. “See that side tunnel up ahead? We go in there, and the old guardroom’s only four, five steps. If they were cold, we’d have made them before this.”
She shook her head. “To the contrary, though I wish you were correct. They would have heard our voices and called out.”
A hundred steps brought them to the side tunnel’s entrance. As soon as they turned into it, she caught sight of a man’s feet protruding from a doorway. “That will be Guan,” she murmured.
Spider stopped her, spreading his arms to hold Remora back as well. “That’s Hyrax. I always twig a cully’s shoes, or a mort’s either. Shoes tell more than any kind of kick. A lot know it, but that don’t stop it from bein’ true.”
“Wasn’t the other man with Hyrax, Spider? Where is he?”
“In there.” Spider’s breath rasped in his throat. “Just out of sight, most likely. You don’t shoot a cull soon as you see him through the door, not if he’s comin’ in. You let him get inside. That way you got two tries if he beats hoof.”
He turned to Remora. “You first, Patera. Pull out Pas’s cross and have it where they can see, and hold your hands up. You’re a augur in a robe, not holdin’ a slug gun or anything. They won’t shoot you, or I don’t think they will. Tell them I got the general. Leave us be, or she’s cold.”
Remora looked stricken.
“You wanted to die down here, didn’t you? This’s your chance. Go on before I shoot you myself. They won’t.”
“They must know we’re out here,” Maytera Mint said. “They will have heard us. If not before, they will certainly have heard that.” Spider did not reply; his eyes were on Remora.
“I, er, shall.” Remora backed away, raised his hands, and turned toward the doorway.
“Pas’s gammadion,” Maytera Mint prompted him. “Take it out so they can see it.”
If Remora heard her advice, he ignored it. She watched him pause at the threshold, then step through. There was no shot.
“They used to have soldiers down here awake and ready to go if there was trouble,” Spider told her. His hoarse voice was close to a whisper. “That was before the Guard. That’s what Councillor Potto told me one time, and he ought to know.”
They stood side-by-side in silence after that. There was no sound from the guardroom, no sound from any source save the almost inaudible sigh of the cool wind that filled the tunnel.
At length Spider said, “I should of told him to take a look around in there. I guess he’s doin’ it anyhow.”
“I’m going too.” Maytera Mint started toward the doorway.
“Hornbuss!” Spider caught her arm. “You’re goin’ to do what I say, and I say you can’t.”
“Your Eminence!” she called. “Are you all right?”
For a few seconds her words echoed hollowly from the gray walls, and she felt certain that she and Spider were the only living people within earshot. Then Remora stepped out of the doorway, avoiding the dead man. He held out a bottle of thick, mottled glass. “Water, Maytera! General. Ah — potable. Um, pure, in so far as I can, um, gauge its qualities.”
Spider snapped, “Nobody in there?”
“Not — ah — dead men. Two, in addition to the one you, um, observe in the entrance. Shot with slug guns, I — ah — or, um, both with a single such gun. Quite possibly. Our, ah, companions, oh? Yesterday, likewise earlier. One the, um—”
“Guan.”
“Er, yes. Ah — the name you gave. Furnished? Supplied.” Having come near enough, Remora handed the bottle to Maytera Mint. “He dropped this, I fancy, General. So it appeared, oh? When he — um — attained life’s culmination. Some spilt, eh?”
She was drinking and did not trouble to reply. The water was cool and clean and tasted fresh and unspeakably delicious. All her life she had been taught that Surging Scylla, the water goddess, was first among the Seven; she had not realized either how true or how important that insight was until this moment.
Chapter 7 — The Brown Mechanics
Silk looked around curiously, finding it hard to believe that this enclosure, this collection of sheds surrounded by a fence, produced taluses. On his shoulder, Oreb croaked in dismay.
“It’s starting to rain,” Chenille announced; she pushed back raspberry curls to squint at the sky.
“I’ve been trying to remember where I came from,” Maytera Marble ventured. “I don’t think it was like this at all.” She edged Mucor toward the shelter of the sentry box as she spoke.
If Fliers were a rain sign, what might Fliers who landed presage? The final days of the whorl? Silk decided to keep the speculation to himself. “I should have asked you about that long ago, Maytera. Tell me about it.”
“I couldn’t remember a thing then, I’m sure. Not till poor Maytera Rose bequeathed me my new parts. I’m sure I must have told you about them.”
Silk nodded.
“A week last Tarsday, that was. They’re much better than my old ones, but after I’d put them in, it was hard for me to keep straight which memories were Marble’s and which were mine.”
Chenille corrected her. “The other way, Maytera.”
“You’re quite right, dear. Anyway, I recollect a big room with green walls. There were pallets, or perhaps metal tables, little ones about as high as a bed.”
“Here comes one of the guards.” Chenille pointed.
“I was lying on one, and I didn’t have any clothes on. Perhaps I shouldn’t talk about this, Patera.”
“Go ahead. It’s not immoral, and it could be important.”
“I was trying to boot, and I remember that the girl next to me sat up and said she was naked, which she certainly was. When she did, somebody brought her a dress.”
The guard halted with a clash of armored heels, one hand leveled across his slug gun. “Follow me, Calde.”
“No wet,” Oreb mutter
ed.
“He has a point,” Silk remarked as they set out. “Could we borrow umbrellas? If we’re going to have to walk between these buildings, as I expect we will.”
“I’ll get some while you’re talking to the director,” the guard promised; he trotted ahead to open the door of a brick structure not much different from a modest house.
“We can wait outside,” Chenille told Silk. “I mean, in the hall or whatever, just as long as it’s out of the rain.”
He shook his head, entering a reception room presided over by a woman rather too large for it. She smiled. “Go right on in, please, Calde.”
“Will there be enough chairs? There are four of us.”
From the room beyond, a short man beginning to go bald told him, “Three chairs and a settle. Come in!” He offered his hand. “Swallow’s my name, Calde.” Silk shook it and introduced Maytera Marble, Mucor, and Chenille.
Swallow nodded, still smiling. “Sit down, please, ladies, Calde. You’re lame, I hear, and I see you’re limping.” He shut the door. “Everybody’s got some tidbit about you. You’re lame, you’ve got that tame bird, and you predicted the downfall of the Ayuntarniento. I’m sure you’ve heard it all.”
Silk took a leather armchair near Swallow’s table. “And now you’re surprised to see how young I am, and would like to ask my age.”
“Why, that’s none of my affair, Calde.”
“I’m twenty-three. You must be,” he glanced at Swallow’s hands, “in your forties. Forty-five or forty-six. Am I right?”
“I’m glad you’re not, Calde. I’m forty-three.”
“Twenty years older than I am, precisely. You must think I’m very young and inexperienced to head the city government. I am, and I realize it. I have to depend on the judgement of more experienced men and women. That’s one reason Maytera Marble’s with me today; it’s also the reason I’m here talking to you, an older man with experience I haven’t got but need to draw upon.”
“I’ll be happy to help you any way I can, Cald — . Would you like something before we get started? Coffee, wine, tea? Would the young ladies? Chamomile can fetch us some.”