Soldier of the mist l-1

by Gene Wolfe

  The other cook said, "You do. And everything else."

  I asked, "Will they come here?"

  "I suppose, some of them. They're going everywhere, asking crazy questions like what did you eat at the first meal yesterday."

  The other cook said, "Then we'll tell them. What's the harm in telling a Rope Maker what you had at the first meal?"

  "Yes, we'll tell them," Lalos agreed. "We'd better."

  I carried in the rest of the dishes, and the cooks put little Io to washing them. There was food waste, mostly seeds and apple cores, scattered around the courtyard. Kalleos told me, "I'm your mistress, Kalleos, Latro. I want you to sweep all this up. You know about answering the front door?"

  I nodded and told her I had read it on my own door.

  "Good. And don't forget to sweep again tonight when everyone's left. You can remember that, and I like it clean in the morning. And Latro, no matter what they tell you, the girls have to look after their own rooms-they'll get you to do it if they can, the lazy sluts. And their rooms have to be clean by tonight. If you see one who doesn't clean her room, you tell me."

  I said, "I will, madame."

  "And when you go to the door tonight, don't let in anyone who's drunk until he shows you his money-silver, not bronze or copper. Or gold. Let in anybody who has gold. But don't let in anyone who looks poor, drunk or sober. And don't draw that crooked sword of yours unless you have to. You shouldn't have to."

  "No, madame."

  "Use your fists, like you did on what's-his-name the other night. And when Io's finished washing up, send her to me. Don't let those two idlers in the kitchen make her do all their work-I want her to go to the market with me. I'll have most of the stuff for tonight delivered, and she can carry the odds and ends. Make the deliverymen go to the back, and don't talk to them. And make them leave-after you have all the goods-if they try to snoop. I'm counting on you, Latro."

  Men came as soon as it grew dark, mostly bald or graying men, too old to fight. I admitted them; when they were busy with the women, I slept a bit in my chair by the door, only waking when the first left. Some stayed, sleeping with the women in their rooms. When the courtyard was empty, I carried the cups and bowls back to the kitchen for Io to wash tomorrow and got out my broom.

  Many of the lamps were dark, and a man slept in one corner. I could see it would be impossible to clean the place well, but I decided to clean it as well as I could. It was very pleasant in the courtyard anyway. The thinnest-possible sliver of moon peeped between the clouds and left shadows beneath the walls, and the heat had passed. The air was soft, perfumed by the flowers Kalleos had bought that afternoon.

  I was sweeping near a corner where there were many urns holding many flowers, when a woman's hand stroked my shoulder. I turned to see who she was, but her face was lost in the shadows. She said, "Come, child of war. Do that later, or never."

  Knowing what she wanted, I laid my broom on the flagstones and sought her among the blossoms, not finding her until she showed herself to me by kindling a silver lamp shaped like a dove, which hung over the couch in her chamber.

  I cannot remember what women I have possessed. Perhaps there have been none. I know that for me tonight she was the first-that no other would have been real beside her, that our joy endured while cities rose and fell, and that while I clasped her the breezes of spring blew perpetually.

  My lover was half woman and half child, her cheeks and all her flesh rose-tinted in the roseate light from the dove, slender yet round of limb, her breasts small but perfect, her eyes like the skies of summer, her hair like fire, like butter, like night, ripe with myriad perfumes. "You forget," she said. "But you will remember me."

  I nodded because I could not speak. I do not think I could have lifted my hand.

  "I am more lovely than my rival. Three faces she has, but none like mine. You have forgotten her; you will never forget me."

  "Never." Her chamber was hung with crimson velvet; it seemed to glow in the dim light.

  "And I am lovelier far than Kore, the Maiden." Her voice grew bitter. "Not long ago, I gave my favor to a poor creature called Myrrha. Better I had withheld it. Her own father bore her down, and she became a tree, a speechless thing with wooden limbs." A horned doorman fluttered wide, white sleeves to ensure our privacy. "Yet she bore him a child, the fairest ever seen. I locked it in a chest-so you would call it-to keep it safe, for I had lovers who would have used it like a woman."

  I nodded, though I would rather she had talked of love.

  "I trusted her-that vile girl who calls herself the Maiden, though her legs clasp Hades. She opened the chest and stole the child. I begged for justice, but she kept it four moons each year. At last it died, and from its blood sprang this blood-red blossom where we lie."

  I said, "I would lie here forever, for every kiss of yours is new to me."

  "Yet you will not, O my lover. Soon, how soon you must go! But you will not forget me, nor what I say."

  Then she whispered in my ear, repeating the same thing again and again in many ways. I cannot write it here, because I do not remember what it was-and it seems to me that even as I heard her words they were lost; but perhaps they only sank into some part of me where memory does not go. She showed me an apple of gold and spun the dove to make its light play upon that apple.

  Then she was gone, and her chamber too, and I was left leaning on my broom in the cold court. The moon glowed high overhead, a crescent glyph cupping some meaning I did not comprehend.

  I got one of the lamps and searched among the flowers for the door to her room; when I found it, it was only a crimson anemone, half-open, before which fluttered a tiny white moth.

  With my hand I brushed him away and held it up, and it seemed to me the heart of the blossoms held a spark of laughter, but perhaps it was only a tear of dew.

  A woman touched my shoulder. It was Kalleos, her breath heavy with wine because she had been drinking with the men.

  "You don't have to worry about that, Latro," she said. "Poking among the flowers with a light. Get it tomorrow, when you can see what you're doing. Put away that broom and come with me. You're a fine figure of a man, know that?"

  "Thank you," I said. "What is it you want, madame?"

  "Only your arm to get me to my door. I'm ready for my bed tonight, by every god, and I'll sleep like a chalcis. I've a skin in there, Latro, and I'll give you a drink before you go. It isn't right that you should work all the time and never get to party."

  I took her to her room, where she sat on her bed, her weight making the straps creak under the mattress until I thought they must break. She told me where the wineskin was and had me pour cups for us both; and while I was drinking mine, she blew out the lamp.

  "I'm at that age when a woman looks best in the dark," she said. "Come and sit with me."

  My hand brushed her naked breast.

  "Surely you know how to put your arm around a woman?"

  It was not completely dark. I had left the door open a crack, and a thread of light from the silver dove stole in, whispering something too faint for me to hear. Kalleos had let her robe fall to her hips, and I could see her white breasts and the rounded bulge that ended in the dark cloth of her robe. I felt they should disgust me now, but they did not. Rather it seemed that in some way Kalleos was the woman in the anemone, as a word written is the spoken word, and not just a dirty smudge upon the papyrus.

  "Kiss me," she said. "And let me lay down."

  I did as she told me, then took off her sandals and pulled her gown away from her legs.

  By that time she was snoring. I went out, shutting the door behind me, and came here to my own place, where I write these words.

  CHAPTER XXI-Eutaktos

  The lochagos knocked as I was serving the first meal today. Kalleos moaned. "That's trouble, I'm sure of it."

  Zoe, who had been boasting about the big tip she had been given the night before, said, "It might be good news. You never know."

  "An
ything that happens before dark is bad news when you've got a headache. When you're my age, you'll understand."

  The knocking grew louder. Phye said, "That's not knuckles. He's pounding with something."

  It had been the grounding iron of a spear, as I learned when I opened the door. Eutaktosk and half a dozen shieldmen shouldered their way in. Their hoplons and cuirasses protected their bellies, but their helmets were pushed back, and I was able to hit one in the neck and throw Eutaktos over my hip before the rest got their spears leveled. I threw my chair and drew my sword, and the women began to scream. Eutaktos was up again and had his own sword out, with Io hanging from his sword arm and crying, "Don't kill him!"

  He shook her off. "We won't, unless he runs on the spears. Who's master here?"

  Kalleos came forward, wearing the expression she used when the women threw food. "I am, and that's my slave you're talking about killing. If you kill him, you'll pay for him. Nine minas he cost me not a month ago, and I have a receipt signed by a leading citizen."

  "You're no daughter of Hellen's."

  "I didn't say I was a citizen," Kalleos answered with dignity. "I said the man I spoke of is. He's at sea in command of a squadron of our warships at this very moment. As for me, as a freedwoman and a resident foreigner I am protected by our laws."

  Eutaktos looked sourly from her to me. "How many men here?"

  "Right now? Three. Why do you want to know?"

  "Get the rest."

  Kalleos shrugged and told Phye, "Bring in Lalos and Leon."

  "You there." Eutaktos pointed to me with his sword. "Quick! Name the man who sold you."

  I shook my head.

  Io said, "Hypereides, sir. Please don't hurt Latro-he can't remember."

  The shieldmen, who had been nudging one another and winking while they stared at the women, fell silent as though someone had given a command. Eutaktos lowered his sword and sent it rasping back into the scabbard. "You say he doesn't remember, little girl?"

  Suddenly abashed, Io nodded.

  "We can settle this quickly," Eutaktos told Kalleos. "Do you have any books?"

  Kalleos shook her head. "None. I keep all my records on wax tablets."

  "None at all? Want us to search? You won't like it."

  "There's a book Latro has to write in. He does forget, as Io says."

  "Ah." Eutaktos glanced at one of the other Rope Makers, and both smiled. "Fetch it, woman."

  "I don't know where he keeps it."

  Phye said, "You won't be able to read it, Lochagos. I've tried, but he writes in some barbaric tongue." Our two cooks, who had banged the pans that morning and talked loudly, looked very small beside her. The man I had hit got to his feet rubbing his neck.

  "But he can read it to me," Eutaktos said. "Latro, bring me your book."

  Io said, "He's afraid you'll take it, sir. You won't, will you?"

  Eutaktos shook his head. "Do you know where it is?"

  Io nodded. "I know more about Latro than anybody."

  "Then get it. We won't hurt him or you."

  Io ran to my room and was soon back carrying this scroll.

  "Good!" Eutaktos said. "And now-"

  There was a tap at the door. Eutaktos told one of the shieldmen to see who it was and send him away. To me he said, "A fine book, must have cost a couple of owls. Too long for you to unroll it all between your hands?"

  I nodded.

  "Then do it on the floor, so I can see it. Little girl, hold down the end."

  The shieldman who had been sent to the door announced, "Urgent message, Lochagos. A Milesian."

  Eutaktos nodded, and the soldier ushered in a tall and very lean man with hair like a black haystack; he wore a purple cloak and many rings. This man darted a glance at me, another at Kalleos, and said to Eutaktos, "Many blessings upon you, noble warrior! I have words that are for your heroic ears alone."

  Kalleos came forward smiling. "I can show you to a comfortable room, Lochagos, where you two can talk in private. We haven't tidied up yet from last night, but-"

  "No matter," Eutaktos snapped. "Take us there-we won't be long. You, Latro, close your book again and keep it so. Basias, see that he does."

  They were back almost at once, the Rope Maker looking pleased and the Milesian chagrined. To his shieldmen, Eutaktos said, "This fellow's come to tell us what we were about to see for ourselves." He turned to me. "Unroll your book."

  I did as he had ordered, and when I reached the final sheet found a dried flower there.

  Eutaktos crouched beside me. "You men, look here! Did everyone see this?"

  The shieldmen nodded, and several said, "Yes, sir."

  "Remember it. You may have to tell Pausanias. You heard me ask the question. You heard he couldn't answer. You saw him unroll this book, you saw the flower. Don't forget those things." He stood up. "These are high matters. It won't go well with anyone who makes a mistake."

  The Milesian began, "Noble Rope Maker, if you would care-"

  "I wouldn't. You Ionians are mad for gold. We win your battles for you, so you think we've got it. There isn't a man here who's any richer than the poorest slave in this house, myself included."

  "In that case… " The Milesian shrugged and turned to go.

  "Not so fast!"

  Two shieldmen blocked the door.

  "You'll leave when I say, not before. Obey orders or suffer for it. Latro, you're coming with us; so's the child. What's her name?"

  "Io!" Io piped.

  "Woman." Eutaktos turned to Kalleos. "Apply to Pausanias or either of our kings and you'll be compensated. Shut up! You talk too much-all of you do up here."

  "Sir," I said, "I've got a cloak and some clean chitons. May I get them?"

  He nodded. "Whatever you want, as long as that book's part of it. Basias, go with him."

  Kalleos said, "Eurykles, you're not going with them too, are you?"

  "Of course not," the Milesian told her.

  Eutaktos turned on him. "Of course, you mean. You're from Miletos, Miletos is in the Empire, the Empire's our enemy, you're our prisoner. Curses and witchery will get your throat cut before you finish them."

  I left with Basias then, and so I did not hear what else was said. When we returned, Io had a little bundle at her feet and a wooden doll under her arm. Basias looked inquiringly at Eutaktos and pointed to my sword.

  Kalleos explained, "He was my watchman, Lochagos. Latro, I'll keep that for you, if you like."

  "No," Eutaktos told her, "Basias will keep it. Pausanias may return it to him."

  The street was hot after the shade of Kalleos's courtyard. I held my belongings at my shoulder with one hand and held Io's hand with the other; she held mine and did the same. Eutaktos marched in front of us, staring every man he saw out of countenance and spitting every time some new city stink offended his nostrils. The Milesian stumped sour-faced after us, muttering to himself.

  Basias was on my right, and on my left and behind us tramped the rest of the shieldmen, all with long spears, red cloaks, and big hoplons painted with the wedge-shaped letter that the Crimson Men call the Stylus, which seems to me a most fit insignia for their Silent Country. They might have been the vanguard of an army of occupation, and the archers posted where the road left the city looked relieved when we marched past.

  Among the Rope Makers each shieldman has several slaves to carry his belongings, pitch his tent, and prepare his food. These slaves had bought wine in the city, so we had a little to stir into our water (for the shieldmen had not yet eaten the first meal), as well as raw onions, boiled barley, salt olives, and cheese. Io says I forget, and I know I do; but I remembered then how much wine there had been on Kalleos's table when we left, and her melons and figs.

  Before we ate, Eutaktos sent slaves into Thought to recall the other enomotia of his lochos. When the meal was over (which it soon was) he ordered the rest to break camp. I asked Basias where we were going.

  "Back to Redface Island," he told me, "if that's where t
he prince is. He wants to see you."

  I asked why, but he only shook his head.

  Io said, "You don't remember, but we sailed around Redface Island with Hypereides. It looked wild-just a few little villages along the shore."

  Basias nodded. "Too many pirates. Tower Hill trades for us."

  The Milesian had come over to listen. He remarked, "And gets rich from it."

  "That's their problem." Basias turned and stalked away.

  "Odd people, aren't they?" the Milesian said. "I know you don't recognize me, Latro, but I'm Eurykles the Necromancer. You held a light for me not long ago, when I performed one of my greatest wonders."

  Io said, "You came to Kalleos's and joined Hypereides's party. Rhoda told me."

  Eurykles nodded. "That's right, and from it you must know I'm a good friend of Kalleos's; and Kalleos is Latro's rightful owner."

  "She is not!"

  He looked at her askance. He is one of those people who can raise one eyebrow a great deal higher than the other.

  "Latro's a free man, and I'm his slave. Kalleos said I was hers, but she didn't even have a bill for me."

  "Nor does Latro, I imagine. Not that it matters now. Don't talk of buying and selling to these Rope Makers, by the way. Among every other people in the world, trading's honorable and stealing dishonorable; but among the Rope Makers it's just the reverse. Stealing's glorious if you don't get caught, but trading blackens a man's name as much as keeping a stall in the market."

  I said, "You don't like them."

  "Nobody does. Some people admire them, and some people nearly worship them; but nobody likes them, and from what I've seen of them today, they don't even like each other."

  Io asked whether he had been to Redface Island.

  He shook his head. "There's no money past Tower Hill on the isthmus, not a scrap. Nothing but barley, blood, and beans. You saw how Eutaktos treated me when I came to him with valuable information, didn't you? Made me a prisoner! An officer from any decent city would have filled my mouth with silver."