by Gene Wolfe
My host's mother could contain herself no longer. "This leader, Fava? Was he-"
"Grandmother!" Mora exclaimed. "You're not supposed to interrupt. You know you're not. You're the one who always objects when Fava and I do it."
"Interruptions are permitted in cases like this, " my host's mother declared with great firmness. "Fava, I have to ask you about Incanto's leader, because Incanto never did describe him. Was he tall? As tall as Incanto?"
Fava shook her head. "That's funny. No, he wasn't. But almost as tall, though he didn't look it, and-"
Stocky. You can think of him as muscular if you like, and he certainly looked strong enough to fight and climb and the rest of it, but there was nothing heroic about him except his eyes.
The little girl whose adventures I have been recounting to you knew nothing about heroes and swords, or any such thing, but she was as curious as a monkey, and as soon as she realized what was happening she pushed her little head up out of the water, and as soon as the grabber was dead she overcame her natural shyness sufficiently to speak to the leader who had killed it and saved her, offering her timid thanks and after some hesitation venturing to say that she thought his was the best shape for everyone.
The colorcat lay dead, half in and half out of the muddy water, scarlet blood that looked no different from a man's or a hog's spurting from the gaping wound below its jaws. Dozens of young inhumi rose to drink it; wading in, I caught one by the nape of the neck and carried it to the bank with its tail lashing futilely and its arms and legs pawing air. "Can you talk?" I shook it.
It swung its head from side to side, then nodded. Already its lizard's face was softening a little, melting.
"You see that tree?" I pointed dramatically. "All I've got do is grab you by your tail and swing you against it, so you'd better do everything I say. What's your name?"
"Mee."
"You're changing your looks, and that's good, but you're making yourself too childlike. I want you older, so grow those legs. Are you a male or a female, Mee?"
"Girl."
"That's good too, " I told her. "I think I'll keep you. I need a little help. If you'll come with me and do your job, I won't hurt you, and I'll see to it that nobody else does, either."
* * *
So he cut off a big piece of the grabber's skin for her (Fava continued), and scraped it until it was thin and smooth, and as flexible as grabber-skin can be made. She wrapped it around herself, and they picked flowers and pretty leaves for her to wear in her hair.
Incanto's leader had merely wanted her to frustrate the plans his son and a young woman were making in one of the human settlements. But without in the least intending to, he had made the little girl I have been talking about into a little girl from that day forward, a very good little girl, too, in her way, very fond of pretty dresses and playing nicely with other little girls.
Now I am tired and all of you have finished eating. I have a long way to go tomorrow, so I end her story here, and end it happily.
* * *
Perhaps I ought not to have drawn the three whorls, for I only corked my little bottle of ink, wiped my pen, stretched, and talked to Oreb. Now here I am again, the same man in the same place, with the same ink, paper, and pen – though I have sharpened my nib a trifle, as you see.
As I see, I interrupted myself at the place where Fava and Mora came in here in their nightdresses last night, and went off storytelling. I hope to get back to that, but first I ought to say that Fava has gone, and that the two young men who are to carry the letters I wrote for Inclito had dinner with us tonight.
One is certainly the mercenary with whom Inclito spoke; when I entered the room, I saw him glance at Inclito and nod. His name is Eco, a fine, stalwart young man whose dark face and flashing teeth and eyes remind me of Hari Mau.
I have been trying to place him in the group I spoke with in the palace. To my left at the back of the room, I believe. He is quite tall, and I am reasonably certain that I remember him looking over the heads of those in front of him. No smiles then. I saw a very young man about to be sent into battle, and wondering whether he had the courage to bear himself well. From what Inclito said, I feel sure he did.
Indeed, I would be equally sure if Inclito had said nothing about him.
When Mora and Fava came last night, I sent Onorifica for the other maid, Torda, the sullen, good-looking young woman who fetched lap robes for us on the night that Inclito drove me back to Blanko. "I've been wanting to talk to you, " I told her. "You are in danger-in deadly danger, in fact. I'm going to save you if I can. I had not intended to speak to you with Mora listening-"
I stole a glance at her; her heavy, coarse face told me very little, but her mouth seemed narrower than ever.
"Still, this may be the best way. And if Fava listens as well, it can do no harm and may do some good."
"You think you got me out of bed." Torda looked at me accusingly. "You think that-"
"I know I didn't. Onorifica brought you much too quickly for that. You were up and dressed, or dressing."
"I'm supposed to heat madame's bathwater. She bathes every morning. She'll be furious."
"Then Onorifica will have to do it."
"She's supposed to set the table for breakfast."
Fava tittered.
I waved the table aside. "Decina can do it. There can't be much involved in setting table for five."
"You thought I'd be scared and mixed up, but-"
I shook my head. "I hope to frighten you. I'm aware that you're not frightened now." (It was a lie; I knew she was.) "But I hope to frighten you for your own good. Women fear death, Torda, just as men do. If I can show you – and I think I can – that the Hand of Hierax is reaching for you even as we speak, you will be sensibly frightened and tell me the truth. If you do, things may not go so badly for you. Confusion is the last thing I'm hoping for. You must think clearly now, more clearly than poor Onorifica has ever thought in her life. You must see your peril, if you are to escape it."
"Poor girl!" Oreb cocked his head.
Mora nodded emphatically. "That's what I say too. If it weren't for-you really shouldn't bully her like that. I'm going to tell my father."
Fava's hand concealed her smile. "We came in here to talk to you about something entirely different, Incanto, and we were here first."
"I know what you want to talk about, " (my voice was not more assured than I felt) "and it is the same thing. You say it's entirely different, but you don't know what I'm talking to Torda here about. Or do you?"
Fava shook her head.
"Torda is a spy, " I said, and was careful to look at Fava as I said it. "Inclito has known for some time that there was a spy in his household. He asked me to identify her. I say her because it was clear to both of us that it had to be one of four persons: Decina, Onorifica, Torda, and you, Fava. It's Torda, and she can save us all some time by confessing."
"A spy? I am not!"
Oreb spat, "Bad girl!"
"I imagine everyone here knows your history, " I told her, "so there can be no harm in re-hashing it. You came here as a poor relative – a relative only by courtesy. Your mother was supposed to have been a second cousin by marriage, or something like that. Something equally nebulous and impossible to prove. Came here from where?"
Torda shook her head and stared at the floor.
"Not from Blanko, because it wasn't said in that fashion. If you and your family had lived in town, Inclito and his mother – his mother particularly – would have known all about you. You came here from Soldo, and it's obvious who sent you."
"No!"
"You may actually be the sort of step-relative you claim to be. Who cares? The relationship is so tenuous as to be nonexistent anyway. Inclito took you and treated you as well as his daughter. All four of us know why."
I waited for her to speak, but she did not.
"You really are good-looking, " I told her, "your profile particularly. Your face is a trifle too narrow, I would say
, but it's not at all bad, and you have an admirable figure. When you smile you must be very pretty, and I'm sure you smiled a lot at Inclito, at first. Didn't you?"
She was glaring at me now, eyes blazing. "That has nothing to do with you!"
"Then something went wrong between you. Did he find you with another man? Or did you ridicule his appearance? He isn't a handsome man, and he seems sensitive about it."
Torda's face was set hard. "It's none of your affair. I told you."
Mora said, "He's acting for my father, or thinks he is." Her voice was flat with resignation.
"I would guess that you simply wanted too much. Was it jewels and clothes? Inclito had made a mistake when he treated you as well as he did in the beginning. You may even have tried to get him to marry you, and he doesn't want to remarry. He's hoping to leave everything he's got to his daughter and her husband."
Torda looked at Mora, and her eyes spoke volumes.
"He cast you aside, and you had to become the mere servant you'd been pretending to be. Any normal woman would have left then-"
"I had no place to go!"
Mora sighed. "Nobody here will, if you don't keep your voice down."
I nodded. "Why did you stay? Clearly because Duko Rigoglio would have been displeased. He would want you right here, as long as you could learn-"
"I'm from Novella Citta. I really am." Torda's voice was almost conversational, but a tear crept down her cheek.
I shrugged. "If that's the truth, perhaps I can arrange for your body to be sent there. I'll do what I can. Certainly Blanko won't want you where its own citizens find rest."
"Fish heads?" Oreb inquired.
"Breakfast soon, at least, though I doubt that there will be fish for you. Mora, would you be willing to go to the kitchen and see that Onorifica brings your grandmother's bathwater? Or perhaps even see to it yourself? It would be-"
She shook her head.
"As you like."
I turned back to Torda. "To repeat, it was clear that the spy was one of you four. Inclito suspected Fava and took care to say nothing that a spy might think significant in her presence. It was a reasonable precaution, and he took it; but nothing changed. The Duko seemed to know each plan he hatched. That suggested that Fava was not the spy, but he – and I, when he told me about it – remained understandably suspicious of her. She was not related to him, had no discernible family of her own, and had the run of the house. I talked to her and to Mora, hinting that her visit, welcome as it had been, had reached its natural conclusion. Mora wanted her to stay, but she herself readily agreed to leave at once, as you've no doubt heard. That settled it for me – Fava was no spy.
"Mora, how do they kill spies in Blanko? Have you any idea? At home they shoot them, but I've heard that in some places they're torn apart by four horses."
"Hang them, I think."
Fava said, "We burn inhumi. It depends on just what the person's done."
I nodded. "You were eliminated, as I said. That left Decina, Onorifica, and Torda here. Torda was clearly a rejected lover, so the answer was plain enough. I took time to inquire about the other two just the same. Decina has been working for Inclito and his mother since Mora was small; moreover, she rarely leaves her kitchen. I eliminated her, as any sensible person would. Onorifica's family lives nearby, and she isn't intelligent enough unless she's a superb dissembler."
I returned to Torda. "If you don't confess, you'll still be tried before the Corpo and executed. It's not the way I'd deal with this if I had a choice, but this isn't my house and Blanko isn't my town. What have you to say?"
"I didn't!" And then, in a whisper, "I love him."
"Poor girl!"
"Yes, Oreb. But a wealthy one if she could have made him believe it. Torda, I can only say that you have a strange way of showing it. If you confess-now-I'll do my utmost to see that there is no trial and no execution."
She shook her head violently.
"I hesitate to speak for him, but I believe that Inclito will as well. He'd prefer to keep your past relationship a secret, surely. Will you confess?"
"I didn't do it!"
I drew a deep breath and let it out. "Then there's no more to be done. Mora, will you tell your father we must see him as soon as he's up and dressed?"
"No." She spoke to Fava. "Go tell the other one about Grandmother's water."
I shook my head, and Fava said, "Really, Mora, I-"
"I mean it. Go now."
Fava stood, nodded, and left us, closing the door behind her. As I watched her go, I had to marvel at the perfection of the illusion. To my eyes (if not to Oreb's) she was a girl of thirteen or fourteen, rather small, with light brown hair that I knew must be a wig.
"Bad thing! Fish heads?" Oreb tugged at a lock of my own.
"No, breakfast isn't ready yet. Onorifica would have come around to tell us, I feel sure."
Mora began, "I am-"
I cut her off. "I know. First let me send Torda away."
Mora shook her head. "I am the spy. It was me."
"As you wish, " I told her, and spoke to Torda. "Mora's been spying on her father for Duko Rigoglio. I accused you in the hope of making her confess. Do you understand?"
"It will… " Her face was stricken. "This will kill him."
"It will if he finds out, perhaps. A few minutes ago you said you loved him. Do you intend to tell him?"
She shook her head.
"Then perhaps you do. Will you tell your father, Mora?"
"No, " Mora said. "I couldn't."
"In that case, neither will I. If we three can keep a secret, there's no reason it shouldn't be kept."
Mora began to speak, but I raised my hand to silence her. "Before you say anything about Fava – it may be we've seen the last of her. Do you realize that? It was why I didn't want you to send her away."
"I hope she's gone. That would make it easier." Mora slumped in her chair.
"Harder, I believe, and certainly less satisfying. She recruited you, isn't that right?"
After a lengthy pause, Mora nodded.
Torda said, "Then Fava is really the Duko's spy?"
"She is-or was-one of two, " I said. "She got Mora to cooperate with her, and I imagine that Fava herself carried their reports back to Soldo."
Fava opened the door as I was speaking. "I did, and I got Mora to tell me things, that's all. I never said anything to her about spying, or telling the Duko. No matter what she's told you, that's all it was."
"That is all I ever thought it was. But after a time she must have realized what she'd been doing. If she hadn't before Inclito told her he thought there was a spy in the house, she certainly must have after that. Nevertheless, she didn't want you to leave."
Mora nodded.
"And she must have been very much afraid that you'd find a way to tell her father after you left-a letter to be found in your room or something of that sort. Most of you can't write, but you can, I know. Since you've been going to palaestra with Mora, it's not surprising."
Mora said, "She wouldn't have."
"She'll say she wouldn't have if you ask her now, I feel quite sure." I watched Fava resume her seat on my bed. "What was it the Duko gave you, Fava? Silver and gold? Cards with which to repair a lander? Not food, you seem to have had no difficulty getting that for yourself."
She shook her head.
"What was it, then?"
"I won't tell you!"
"Yes, you will." I strove to sound ruthless. "I'm giving you a chance to leave alive, but I'll withdraw it if I must."
Sullen silence.
"In a little while, I'm going to have to speak with Torda in private, because I want her to tell me a private matter. Yours is not. You must tell all three of us right now, Mora particularly."
"Torda too?"
"Yes, I think so. It's a bit late to leave Torda out."
I turned and glanced at the window. The Short Sun was rising, illuminating Inclito's broad fields and fat cattle. (Today I watched him
stoop and pick up a clod of black earth, which is just now being plowed for winter wheat.) Gesturing, I said to Mora, "All that will be yours someday-no doubt he's told you. Yours, and your husband's."
"Good place!" Oreb assured us, and Mora nodded mutely.
"How did the Duko pay you, Fava, for the information you brought him? What did he give you?"
"Nothing!" She hesitated. "Jewelry, mostly. Jewelry and cards. I gave them away or threw them away."
"I can imagine-gold is heavy stuff. Since you didn't want the Duko's jewels or his cards, what did you want? You must have wanted something."
She shook her head. "Nothing."
"I know, you see, or at least I think I do; and
I'll tell Mora if you don't. It will sound far worse from me."
"You know everything, don't you!"
"Certainly I don't know as much as I need to. I intend to consult the gods again, if I can persuade Mora's father to give me a lamb-"
"No cut!"
"Not you, silly bird. If Inclito will let me have a lamb or something of the kind to sacrifice, I'd like to consult the Outsider. Him, particularly, and perhaps the Mother, the Vanished People's sea goddess, though as far as I know the war brewing here has no connection with the sea."
"Then you'll pretend the gods told you, " Fava declared.
"Certainly not. The gods won't tell people who do that sort of thing anything."
"We've been waiting for it, " Mora explained listlessly. "Some kind of magic or enchantment. We were afraid, but we wanted to see it."
I nodded, and admitted that when I was her age
I would have felt the same way.
Fava said, "Do we still want to talk to him about what we came to see him about, Mora? It will sound inane after all this."
"I don't care, " Mora told her. "If you want to."
"Then I won't."
"I think we need to finish talking about your spying first, " I said. "Mora will feel better when that's over, and so will I. While you were out of the room, I said that if the three of us-Mora, Torda, and I-could keep a secret, there was no reason for anybody else to know. Can you think of one?"