by Gene Wolfe
What about the stars, Patera? Was Pas the god of stars, too? No, he could not be, because the stars burned outside Pas's whorl.
Not just in manteion, Molpe-but I sang there every Scylsday as a boy.
Miraculous Molpe, wind-borne on high,
Reaches her realm to the lands of the sky.
Dance for us, Molpe! Sing in our trees,
Send us thy breath, the sweet, cooling…
The old hymn faded and was gone with his cracked and lonely voice. Tartaros was the god of night and dark places, Tartaros who had been Auk's friend, walking with Auk, his hand in Auk's. There was no god's hand in his own, nothing but the stick that he had picked up a moment before. Was there a stick god? A god of wood and tree? A god or goddess for carpenters and cabinetmakers? If there was any, he could not think of it.
Smoke. He stopped to sniff. Yes, wood smoke. Very faint, but wood smoke.
How hot it was!
He had tried to smoke and salt fish when they had first come to Lizard, and watched his fish spoil afterward, had gone at last, after humiliating himself more than once, to the fishermen and learned their secrets. The smell of wood smoke always reminded him of his failures, of eating the fish that even loyal Nettle would not eat and being violently ill for half a day afterward. It was the dryness, not the smoke (as he had thought), that preserved the fish from decay.
"Tartaros! Can you hear me, Tenebrious Tartaros? Are you listening?" When he had written about Auk, he had shown Tartaros replying instantly to such pleas as those; but here was no book, no story, and there was no answer at all.
This grass-like stuff was wheat, presumably. Some sort of grain. They grew wheat, in that case, in the dark beyond the Aureate Path, the darkness of which the shade was a mere material shadow cooling the whorl, cooling even the breath of Molpe.
Hare had joined General Mint after Blood died, and had told them about the eagle and the old kite maker's praying to Molpe for a wind. The wind had come, he said. The wind, and winter, too. Winter at last, with snow to refresh fields as hot and dry as dead fish hanging over a fire.
How hard the wind had blown, and how bitterly, bitingly cold it had been when they had gone down into the tunnels!
Not like Green. No, not like Green at all.
The bomb had burst, and Hyacinth had feared that their horse had been killed. Hyacinth, freezing cold and a little dirty, so beautiful in the dim light and wind-driven snow that it had been hard to look at her. Nettle had been cheerful and brave; but Hyacinth had been lovely, always lovely and always finding new ways to be lovely even when she was exhausted or shrieking curses. Hyacinth had hated all men, had hated men in the aggregate, because of things that had been said to her and things she had been forced to do for money, humiliations worse than spoiled fish.
He had loved Nettle-Nettle, whose mother had hated her from the moment of conception, as the name she had given her had made only too plain-and had envied Patera Silk Hyacinth (lovely, savage Hyacinth) with all his heart.
He stumbled and fell, got up again, too weary to swear, and looked for the golden rectangle; but it had vanished. He was tired, he discovered. Weak and tired and light-headed, and what was the use? Sighing, he dropped to his knees, then stretched out upon the soft, half-grown grain.
If Hyacinth had indeed been his, he would never have gone to Blue, never have gone to Green, never have died on Green…
For the first time he admitted himself that he was truly dead, that he had died in the medical compartment of the pillaged lander he had struggled so desperately to repair. This was the whorl again, the Whorl in which he had been born, and this was the only afterlife he had been granted.
If he had somehow possessed Hyacinth, he would still be in the Long Sun Whorl. He had not possessed her, yet here he was, without the Long Sun.
His eyes shut of themselves, seeing no less shut than open; and the soft cold swirling snow of another day filled his mind, mocking the dry heat of black night.
Wings beat overhead, and a harsh voice called, "Silk? Silk? Silk?" But he did not reply.
The third member of our party is my daughter Jahlee. She is of medium height, red-haired and attractive, with a smooth almondshaped face and a sly smile many find captivating. The white mule is hers; she wears a thick wool gown under a wide, warm, snow-cat coat that reaches to the ankles of her kid-skin boots. The cold makes her slow and sleepy just the same, and she fears-as I do myself-that she may freeze to death like my poor friend Fava.
Jahlee is talented, although it might be unwise for me to say exactly how. She slipped her hands from the bonds as soon as the bandits left us. She can free herself easily from all such restraints, and her big white mule tolerates her, although it is naturally somewhat fearful. Our horses panic if Jahlee rides too near-but perhaps I have said too much already.
About myself, there is less to tell. I am Horn, Hide's father and Jahlee's. I am taller than most, and thin, with a homely, bony sort of face and white hair as long and thick as a woman's. I wear sheepskin boots like Hide's, and a long sheepskin coat over the old dark robe in which I left Gaon.
Now you know all four of us, and I must get some rest.
* * *
We hoped to reach the coast today, but there is no sign of it. I asked Hide whether we would not be several days' ride north of New Viron when we reach the sea. He said a week's ride at least. No doubt he is correct, but I would have appreciated more optimism. Since it seems likely that we are north of New Viron, we will pass Lizard before we come to the town. We will pass it, but we cannot reach it without a boat. Much as I would like to see Nettle (and Hoof?), my mill, and the house, I have resigned myself to going to New Viron first, selling our horses and some of the loot, and buying a boat.
Hide and Jahlee are asleep. It worries me, because she sleeps so little, normally; but she is near the fire and as warm as I can make her, with two blankets under and three over her, and her big coat as well. Her face-
I have sent Oreb to look for the sea. He is not as skillful as I would like at estimating distance or gauging the difficulty of rivers, sloughs, and the like; still, he will be able to tell me something of value. Or so I hope. Jahlee might scout for us in warmer weather, and that would be better.
Tomorrow we must find someplace where we can buy more food. If I thought that Jahlee was as hungry as I am now, I would be afraid to sleep.
Hide woke me up to tell me about his dream. He thought it might be important, and perhaps it is. Now he is sleeping again, but I shall sit up until dawn. It would be dawn already if only the sky were clear.
"It was so strange, Father. I didn't know I was dreaming at all until it was over, and it was such a long dream."
I nodded. "People say that when you know you're dreaming you're practically awake."
"Then I wasn't, but I was wide awake the minute it was over, and that was just a minute ago. Maybe I shouldn't have tapped your shoulder like I did."
"It's rather too late to think of it now." I yawned and stretched, believing-then-that I would be able to go back to sleep quite quickly.
"Can I get you something? A drink or something? There's a lot of wine left."
I shook my head, and suggested that he tell his dream, since he had awakened me for that purpose.
"I was in this big, big house. Like a palace. I've never seen a real one, but like the Calde's Palace you and Mother talk about. Only it wasn't grand like that, it was more like a great big kitchen with lots of rooms. I know this sounds petty silly."
"Dream-like at least."
"And halls and pantries and things, and tables and chairs and a lot of big cabinets of some kind of light-colored wood, smooth and waxed but not, you know, carved or painted very much. Some of the chairs were upside down. I don't smell things in dreams much, but I could smell food all the time, like meat with lots of pepper in it boiling in a pot, and bread baking."
"That was because you were hungry," I said. "People who go to sleep hungry are apt to dream about foo
d."
"I never saw any, but the smell was in the air all the time. I walked around… I don't know how to explain this."
"You need not try, in that case."
"I was younger. I couldn't be sure how old I used to be, but I knew I was younger in my dream."
"I'd like very much to have a dream like that."
"I was afraid I'd meet Hoof. I felt like he'd be mad at me for being younger, and he'd be bigger and stronger than I was. I walked a long way, and sometimes I'd see tall men with too many legs going into rooms, but I couldn't get the doors open, and mostly I didn't try. Sometimes they'd be waiting up against the wall where I couldn't see them good because there was a cupboard or something there, and I'd be afraid to look. You're making the little circles again, Father. What is it?"
"Nothing, perhaps. Did you ever get a good look at them?"
He shook his head.
"Did they have long noses?"
"I think so."
"Large ears?"
"I don't know. I didn't ever see their faces very well, but it wasn't anybody I knew. Or I don't think so."
"I understand. Did you look at your hands, Hide?"
"At my own hands? I don't think so."
"We seldom do. Or at least I don't look at mine often. Jahlee must watch hers a great deal more. When we killed the bandits I beat a man to death with my staff."
He nodded. "I remember."
"I didn't think you'd noticed. You were shooting."
"You had to do it, Father."
"No. No, I didn't, and I didn't intend to. It was only that I struck him, several times, I think, and he fell but he kept his grip on his knife. Then he started to rise, and I was afraid-desperately afraid, Horn-"
"I'm Hide, Father."
Although I blush to record it now, I only blinked and stared at him, wondering how I could possibly have made such a foolish error. Oreb saved me, landing on the ground at a point that put the fire between Jahlee and himself. "Big wet," he croaked self-importantly. "Bird find."
"Is it much farther?" Hide asked him.
"Bird find!" he repeated.
I told Hide, "He means that it is far for us but not for him. Is there a town, Oreb, where the land meets the sea?"
"Big town!"
"I see. Are there any before that? One we might reach tomorrow, for example?"
"No town."
I nodded. "Thank you very much indeed, Oreb. You've been very helpful."
He took wing.
"He's still afraid of Jahlee," I told Hide. "I don't believe he has reason to be, but he is."
"So am I, a little. I mean, not on Green or that other place, but here."
I nodded again. "Was she in your dream?"
He shook his head.
"Was anyone, besides the tall men?"
"A little girl named Mora and another one. Do you remember Mora from back when we were staying at that farm Jahlee pretended was hers? You said you knew her before, and she talked like she knew you."
"Of course."
"This little girl looked a lot like her, dark and pretty, you know? And she had a thing here on her cheek." Hide touched the middle of his own.
"I understand."
"They'd been playing with dolls. You know how girls do."
"Yes, certainly."
"They had a lot of dolls and toy dishes and a little table and chairs. The dark one wanted me to play with them, and I said all right, only not that. Then the other one said how about hide-and-seek? So I said all right. Then they said their dolls could play too, whoever was it could look for the dolls, too."
"I see."
"I hid my eyes, you know how you do, and counted to a hundred. You wanted to know if I'd looked at my hands."
"Yes. Did you?"
"Uh-huh. I just thought of it, but I did then. I remember taking my hands down after I counted. They looked younger, too, just like the rest of me."
"Were you wearing a ring? Any jewelry at all?"
He shook his head.
"Do you remember the ring I found in the lander?"
"Sure. Only you gave it to Sinew, not me. I don't think I could have taken it back with me."
"Neither do I. I simply wanted to know whether you remembered what it looked like."
"A white gold ring with a white stone."
I nodded, looked at my own hands, and picked up my staff, which had lain beside me while I slept. "I spoke of killing a man with this. I hadn't intended to kill him, but I was afraid he was going to kill us. I thought he might kill you or Jahlee, and kept hitting him as hard as I could; when the fighting had ended, I looked at him, and he was dead."
"It wasn't your fault, Father."
"Of course it was, and his as well. It was-it is-my fault that I killed him. It is his fault that I bear the guilt of killing him, because he gave me good reason to fear him. But if it could be proved that his death was neither his fault nor mine, it would not restore him to life."
"No."
"After the fighting was over, I noticed I had blood on my hands and realized that it was his. I washed them, and for a moment thought that I had lost the ring Seawrack gave me."
From a branch some distance from our fire, Oreb called, "Bird say. Say girl."
I looked up at him. "What are you talking about?"
"Say girl. Silk go. Go wet!" He flew, quickly vanishing in the dark sky; and Hide ventured, "Maybe he wants to tell Mother we're coming home."
"Perhaps he does. May I ask how your dream ended?"
"Well, I hid my eyes like I said, and after that I looked for a long, long time. Sometimes I saw those tall men. They would be standing still next to something else tall, like one of the cupboards or a big clock or something. But I knew they weren't playing and I wasn't supposed to see them at all, so I pretended I didn't, and went on looking."
"Did you find anyone?"
"Yeah. It took a long time, but I finally did. I opened this one big cabinet, and there was one of the dolls." He fell silent, his face troubled.
"I would think you would have been happy."
"I was. It was just a doll, though. Like a baby, only somebody had carved a face sort of like that one on your stick. Only this was a baby's face, and painted pink. Younger than Bala's baby. You couldn't even tell if it was a boy or a girl."
I said I doubted that it made any difference.
"I guess not. I took it and carried it like a real baby, and tried to go back to base. The place where I'd counted?"
"I understand. Could you find it?"
"Huh-uh. I looked and looked, only I couldn't find them. You know, the little table, and the chairs the dolls had been in. So finally I sat the doll down in a corner and said you're it. I explained about hiding eyes and counting, and looking for people, and then I ran away and hid. There was this great big long sofa with lots of legs, I don't know how many but eight or ten, maybe, and I got down on my stomach and crawled under it."
"Go on."
"There was a little girl hiding under there already. At first I thought it was the one with yellow hair, but it wasn't."
I nodded and said that I was delighted to hear it.
"Then I thought it was the other one, Mora. Only it wasn't her either."
"Who was it?"
Hide looked troubled, and seemed unable to meet my eyes. "I don't know."
"Was that the end of your dream?"
"Almost. We didn't talk, just pushed up close and held on to each other. We were both scared."
"In a game of hide-and-seek? What were you afraid of?"
"Being found, I guess. I was in front and she was in back against the wall, and I wanted to say if she sees me I'll go out and be it, and they won't know about you. Only I didn't. And pretty soon I could hear the doll, walking slow and looking in all the cabinets. And then I woke up and woke you up."
"To ask what your dream meant."
He nodded. "Yeah."
"But there is something about your dream you aren't telling me. Who was the girl
under the sofa?"
"I don't know."
"Have you told me everything you remember about her?"
"What did it mean, Father? Do you know?"
"I might guess, I suppose-but I have no intention of guessing until you're willing to tell me everything you remember about it. Are you?"
"I'll think about it," he said, and lay down.
The sea was to his left, cliffs of wet black rock topped with dark and lofty trees to his right. At times he climbed over tumbled stones and fallen trunks. At others, he walked stony beaches with water lapping at his boots. He had gone a long way already and felt he had a long way to go still, although he could not have said how far, or where he was going. A single bird swooped and wheeled over the sea; once it cried hoarsely and he stopped to look up at it, touched by some memory to which he could not put a name.
At last he saw a house, small and primitive, with walls of big timbers and a steep roof of wooden shingles that were curling now, warping from the sea's salt spray and the Short Sun's heat. He made for it, aware that in some fashion he had left the beach, that he was wading, or perhaps walking inland. There was sand under his feet as he approached the house, sand mixed with chips of bark. He tried to rid his boots of it before he went inside, kicking the step gently with his left foot, then his right. He stepped inside…
And was home. The table at which they had eaten was there, armless chairs for Nettle and himself, stools for the boys. When Marrow and the rest arrived to ask him to go back to the Whorl, there would not be chairs enough for all of them, and someone would carry out the heavy wooden storage box that he had built for winter clothes, and someone else would sit on that.
But Marrow and the rest had not yet come to ask him to go. There was a child asleep in a basket now, the old wicker basket Nettle had woven for herself before they left the farm that had been their share of Blue, the land given them for coming because everyone had wanted land and livestock, even those like themselves who had less than no idea what to do with it. The sleeping child was Sinew. He knew it before he saw its face, before he saw the small silver ring the child wore, or the white stone in the ring.