by Gene Wolfe
"It wasn't like that at all, really. No god ever visited us in all the time that I was growing up, not until just before we left for Blue."
"I didn't know that," Hound said.
"What I wanted-"
Oreb interrupted them. "Man come. Pig man."
"Good." He raised his lantern. "Pig? Are you all right?"
"Ho, aye."
"We were worried about you." He hurried forward.
The fitful light of the swinging lantern revealed the huge Pig, his dirty black trousers and dirty gray shirt, his big sword just now exploring the wide doorway of Blood's villa as Pig prepared to step out.
"We're going to camp in there. There are fireplaces, I'm sure, or there used to be."
"Aye, bucky."
He turned back to Hound. "Do you require our help with the donkeys?"
"No," Hound called. "But you could start that fire."
"I will. There-I'm going to blow out my candle, Pig. Hound doesn't want me to waste it, and he's right. I haven't seen any firewood around here anyway, and I imagine all the furniture was stolen or burned long ago."
"Aye."
Oreb muttered, "Poor man."
"So would you guide me to the back of the house and help look for wood? The trees overhang the wall there, as I remember, and there must be fallen branches."
Pig's big hand found his arm, and although Pig did not reply, he followed Pig docilely.
"This is where they had the sheds for Blood's floaters, and where the horned cats were penned. A talus cared for them, the one Silk killed in the tunnels. I suppose the others, the ones we killed when we stormed the house, were the Ayuntamiento's. The rabbit hutches must have been back here, too, though I don't remember seeing them."
"Seein'?" Pig's hand tightened. "Did yer say seein', bucky?"
Oreb fidgeted on his master's shoulder uneasily, wings half extended. "Watch out."
"Yes, Pig, I did."
"Pals, hain't we?"
"Certainly I am your friend, Pig. I hope you're mine as well."
"Then tell me somethin', bucky. Tell me what yer see."
"Right now? Nothing at all. It's totally dark."
"Yer said yer'd blow h'out yer glim, an' yer did. Heard yer. Heard yer h'open, an' blow, an' shut h'up."
"That's right. I can light it again if you wish, and use it to look around for wood."
"Nae sunshine, bucky?"
"No. None."
The hand on his shoulder, tight already, tightened still more. "What h'about ther skylands? Onie light h'up there?"
"No-wait." He lifted his head, scanning the sky. "One little pinpoint of red. It's a city burning, I suppose, though just a spark to us. That's what someone told me they were."
"What h'about ther hoose, bucky? Did yer gae Won Win?"
"No, not yet. I intended to, of course."
"Then yer don't know h'if there's lights h'in h'it, do yer?" Pig's voice shook.
"I-I'm inclined to doubt it. The entrance was dark, and weI-saw no lights in the windows. I didn't ask Hound, but if he had seen one he would have mentioned it, I'm sure."
"What h'about yer, H'oreb? Yer was h'in there wi' me."
"Bird go," Oreb confirmed cautiously.
"Yer Ben's guid h'in they dark. Better'n onie man's, hain't that lily, H'oreb? Look 'round noo, will yer? A favor ter ane what's yer friend?"
"Bird look."
"Yer needn't be a-feared. What do yer see?"
"Pig, Silk."
"Aye. What 'sides a' us?"
"Big wall. Big house."
"What a' a woman, H'oreb? Do yer see onie woman h'about, watchin' an' listenin'?"
"No girl."
"Lookin' h'out ther winder, h'it might be."
"No, no. No see."
There was a grunt of effort, followed by a thump as Pig's knee came down on the hard, dry grass. "Bucky, will yer help me? Yer me friend, yer said sae. Will yer?"
"Of course, Pig." From the new angle of Pig's arm, Pig was kneeling before him. He groped for him and found the other hand, a hairy hand as large as good-sized ham, that grasped the pommel of the big sword. "I'll help you in any way I can. Surely you know that."
"Recollect how yer felt a' me face, bucky?"
"Of course."
"Wanted ter prove ter yer Pig has nae een, bucky. Got me rag h'over 'em, an' some thinks Pig's soldierin'. Wanted yer ter find h'out fer yerself."
"I understand."
"Yer didn't have nae glim then, but yer does noo. Will yer light h'it fer me, bucky? Fer ane second, like."
"Certainly. It will be a relief to me, actually. Wait a moment." He opened the lantern and got out the striker again. It flared, shooting yellow-white sparks that seemed as bright as thrown torches; the butter-yellow flame of the candle rose.
The rag was no longer across Pig's broad, bearded face. Widely spaced holes like the eyes in a skull stared at nothing.
"Can yer see 'em, bucky? See me een? Where they was?"
He made himself speak. "Yes, Pig. Yes, I can."
"Gaen, hain't they? They cut 'em oot?"
He lowered his lantern and looked away. "Yes, they are. They did."
"Gets dirty, sometimes. Cleans h'in 'em wi' a rag h'on the h'end a' me fin'er."
"Man cry," Oreb informed him, and he looked back. Rivulets of moisture coursed down either side of Pig's broad nose.
"I'll clean them for you, Pig, if that's what you wish. With a clean cloth and clean water."
"Went h'in." Pig's voice was almost inaudible. "H'in ther hoose ter find what might be found, bucky. An' seen her."
Silence. He opened the little black lantern again and blew out its candle, and could not have explained why.
"Dark h'again, bucky?" There was a hideous mirth in Pig's voice that hurt more than any tears.
"Yes, Pig," he said. "Dark again."
"Yer dinna h'ask h'about her, bucky."
"No talk," Oreb advised him.
He ignored the warning. "I didn't think it the moment for prying questions."
"Yer dinna care, bucky?"
"I care very much. But this isn't the time. Hound is unloading his donkeys, Pig, and expecting us to find firewood. Let us find firewood for him. We said we would."
Later, when all three were sitting before a small fire in the large fireplace that had graced Blood's sellaria, Hound said, "I'm going to have a look at my donkeys. I've never had one get loose on a darkday, and I prefer that it never happen." He rose. "Can I get either of you anything?"
"We've more than enough."
As Hound left, Pig whispered, "Noo, bucky? Want ter hear h'about her noo?"
He shook his head. "Wait until Hound comes back."
"Want him ter hear h'it? Thought yer dinna."
"Of course I do. He knows this area and the people in it. Have you ever been here before, Pig?"
"Has Pig? Pig has nae!"
"Well, I have; but that was years ago. I'll have forgotten a great deal, even if I don't think I have. I'll have distorted more, and even the little I remember will be largely obsolete. I wanted to get you alone so I could find out what was troubling you. Now that I haveand it troubles me, too-I'm eager to hear what Hound will say about it." He waited for Pig to speak, and when Pig did not he added, "Of course I don't imagine that Hound can tell us how a man without eyes can see; but he may be able to tell us a something about what he has seen."
"Man come," Oreb announced. "Come back."
"I take it your donkeys haven't strayed, Hound? You wouldn't have returned so quickly if that had been the case."
Hound smiled as he resumed his seat. "No. They're fine. I worry too much about them, I'm afraid, and I doubt that will be the last time I check on them tonight. It must seem silly to you."
"Your concern for the animals in your care? Certainly not. But, Hound, Pig has confided something extraordinary to me, and he'd like you to hear about it, too."
"If it's something I can help with, I'll do what I can."
"I'm su
re you will. Pig went into this house alone when we first arrived. I needn't dwell upon how dark it was, or mention that Pig carried no light."
Guardedly, Hound nodded.
"I wish it were not necessary for me to mention that Pig is blind as well. He is, and though I never doubted it, he insisted I verify it. I did, and he's totally blind. If you doubt it, I do not doubt that he'll let you verify it as well."
"I'll take your word for it," Hound declared, "but I can't imagine what this is leading up to."
"Man see," Oreb explained concisely.
"Exactly. He saw a woman, here in this house. Is that correct, Pig?"
"Aye."
"Now you know all that I do, Hound. Let's go on from there.
"It was dark, Pig. Not the mere darkness of night, in which one can often discern large objects, including persons, but pitch dark. The depths of this ruined villa must have been utterly lightless. How was it you were able to see her?"
"Dinna know." Pig shook his head.
"Was she carrying a light? A candle, for example?"
"If she'd a' been," Pig said slowly, "Pig would nae been h'able ter see h'it ter tell yer." He stretched out his hands. "Fire here, hain't there? Auld Pig feels h'it, feels ther heat a' h'it. Can Pig see h'it, ter? Pig canna."
"Could you see anything other than the woman? The floor she was standing on, for example, or the wall behind her?"
"Nae, bucky. Nor canna recall such."
"It wasn't anybody you know?" Hound asked. "Tansy or-or some woman you've met in your travels?"
Pig turned his head, about ten degrees in error. "Would Pig know? Ter see?"
"I guess you wouldn't." Hound fingered his chin.
"Man talk!" Oreb urged.
"All right, I will. I warned you this place is supposed to be haunted. Or anyway I warned you, Horn. Pig had gone on ahead, I think."
"Haunted by a woman?"
"Yes. Do you want the whole story? It's the sort of thing children tell younger children, I warn you."
"I do. What about you, Pig?"
"Ho, aye."
"All right. Many years ago, a very rich man who had an ugly daughter lived here. This daughter was so ugly that no one would marry her. The rich man gave balls and parties and invited all the eligible young men in the city, but none of them would marry her. A witch came to his door all robed in black, and he fed her and gave her a card, and asked what he could do about his ugly daughter. The witch told him to lock her up where nobody except himself would ever see her. What's wrong, Horn?"
"Nothing, except that I've just realized for the thousanth time what an idiot I am. Go on with your story, please-I'd like to hear it."
"If you want me to." Hound held up the wine bottle from which he had been drinking, saw that it was still almost full, and sipped. "The witch told him to lock up his daughter where nobody could see her until everybody forgot how ugly she was. So that's what he did. He locked her in a dark, bare room and kept the shutters closed day and night so that nobody would see her and brought her food himself, and pretty soon everybody forgot about her except the augur who had christened her. I don't know what her name was, though no doubt the augur did."
"It was Mucor."
Hound stared.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. Go on, I want to hear the rest."
"This augur would come to the rich man's house and ask about her. Each time the rich man would make some excuse, saying that his daughter was ill or away. Soon the augur became suspicious. He had a hatchet, and he would come at night with his hatchet and chop open the shutter and let the ugly daughter out. Then she would go from house to house asking people to take her in. No one would because she was so ugly, and so she played tricks on them, throwing their supper plates at them and making them hit themselves with their own fists, and so on.
"But a god told the augur to go away, and he did. General Mint killed the rich father, and there was nobody left to let the ugly daughter out or feed her, so she starved to death in her room. But her ghost still haunts the house, walking on top of the wall or on the roof, and sometimes she stops travelers. If she stops you and you're polite to her, she'll tell your fortune and bring good luck. But if you even hint at how ugly she is, she'll curse you and you'll die within a year."
"Tell good!" Oreb applauded with his wings.
Hound smiled. "There it is. That's all I know except that there's a family in Endroad who claim to have the hatchet, which they say the augur left behind. I've seen it and it's just an old hatchet, with no magic powers as far as I know. You look very thoughtful, Horn."
He nodded. "I am, because your story suggests that Silk has left Viron-that he's on Blue or Green, if he's still alive. Patera Silk was the augur who pried open Mucor's shutter with his hatchet, and thus beyond question the augur in the story. I'd guess that the wise witch in black robes represents someone's confused recollection of Maytera Rose; but Silk was the augur. There can be no doubt of that."
He turned to Pig. "No one-very much including me-ever asked what became of the other people who were living here, but we should have. Silk killed Blood, and Echidna killed Musk; Hyacinth became Silk's wife, and Silk cared for Mucor until she came to Blue with her grandmother. Doctor Crane-I almost forgot him, and I shouldn't-was killed in error by the Guard. I have no doubt that some others, many of Blood's bodyguards particularly, were killed in the battle that freed Silk and the other prisoners the Ayuntamiento was holding here. Still, there must have been two or three dozen cooks and maids and footmen and prostitutes."
Pig's eyeless face addressed the fire. "They tell yer how onie blind mon can see a woman, bucky?"
"No, Pig. Not really; but they tell me something equally important that I may have been in danger of forgetting-that real stories, real events, never really end. When Nettle and I wrote our few pages about Blood, we thought that Blood's story and this big house's were over and done with. Blood was dead and the house had been looted, and there was nothing left to do but write it down as we had heard it from Silk and Hyacinth and the old man who had built the kite. He had come with us to Blue, by the way, and didn't want us to use his name, although he told us a great deal about Musk and his birds. We never foresaw that Blood and his daughter and his house would live on in legend, but that is clearly what has happened."
" 'Tis a book h'or somethin' yer wrote, bucky?"
"Yes, that my wife and I wrote together. May I have some of your wine, Hound?"
"Certainly. You said you didn't want any."
"I know." He wiped the mouth of the bottle, and put it to his own.
"H'on me h'account, bucky?"
"Yes. You can't drink since you've lost your sight. That, at least, is what you've told me."
"Aye. A mon what drinks has got ter see, h'or falls."
"I understand. We were together, you and I, Pig-closer than either of us is to Hound, though he and Tansy have treated us so well. If you couldn't drink wine, I wouldn't. We're going to be separated for a while now, and to tell you the truth, I think a few swallows of Hound's good wine may be needed to keep off the ghosts. Here you are, Hound, and thank you."
Hound accepted the bottle. "Do you mean the ugly daughter?"
"Was nae h'ugly ter me," Pig said rather too loudly.
"Silk talk!"
"No, I'll be looking for Mucor-for the daughter in your story." He stood, aided by his staff. "I'm going to leave my lantern here with you. As you say, the candle is valuable and may be irreplaceable. I shouldn't need it to see her any more than Pig needed eyes. It had never occurred to me to ask how Silk saw Mucor when she wasn't physically present."
Pig rose, too. "Comin' wi' yer, bucky."
"I-this is something I would prefer to do alone."
"Be blind Was me, bucky. H'oreb can tell yer, but better yer had somebody what's h'used ter h'it. Bucky… "
"Yes, Pig?"
"Bonnie she was, bucky. Beautiful ter me, ter auld Pig. Yer a smart mon, bucky."
He shook his
head, although he knew that Pig could not see the gesture. "No, Pig."
"Yer h'are. Dinna stand nae higher 'n me belt, an' bony. Bonnie ter me, though. Ken why, bucky?"
"Yes, I believe so. Because you could see her, and she was the only thing you've seen in however long it's been. In years."
"Smack h'on, bucky. Yer ken her, dinna yer?"
"Yes, Pig. I-this will mean nothing to you, I realize-but I helped feed and care for her while she and I were living in the Calde's Palace in Viron." He turned to Hound. "Does it surprise you that I lived in the Calde's Palace for a few days?"
Hound shook his head.
"I did, and Nettle and I came to know Mucor there, the woman you've been calling the ugly daughter. Much later, she gave me a tame hus. I'd like to show her that I'm here trying to repay her by finding eyes for her grandmother, and ask where Silk is."
Hound said, "You credit this ghost, both of you."
"Yes. Except that she isn't dead-or I don't believe she is. Certainly she did not starve to death in this house."
"H'if yer h'object ter me comin', bucky-"
"I do. I-yes, I do."
"What'll yer do h'about h'it? Think yer can gae sae hush naebody can hear yer?"
"Pig come," Oreb declared.
"Be talkin' ter her, bucky. An' me? Be standin' behind yer, lookin' h'over yer head. Yer hear, bucky? Said lookin'."
"Yes, Pig. I understand. If I agree to your coming, will you assist me? There's a climb, and it may be difficult. Will you let me stand on your shoulders?"
"Will he? He will!"
"Then come with me."
Together they went out into the blind dark. One of the donkeys brayed, happy to hear human footsteps; and both spoke to it, equally happy, perhaps, to hear another voice, even if it was no more than that of a friendly animal. When they halted and turned to face the villa again, the faint radiance of the fire, glowing weakly through the open doorway, seemed as remote as the burning city in the skylands.
"Where we gang, bucky?"
"To the room Hound mentioned." He found that he was almost whispering, and cleared his throat. "The room to which Mucor was confined by Blood. We're facing the villa now, and it should be to the right, though I can't be certain of that. Oreb, you can see the building before us, can't you?"