by Gene Wolfe
"Pah!" Bison leaned back in his chair. "This changes everything. I have to think."
Mint said, "Good. I'll have a real chance to talk while you're doing it, and I may be able to accomplish something. Did the godling tell you why, Horn?"
He shook his head.
"They never do." There was something trumpet-like in her soft, sweet voice, a distant trumpet summoning scattered troops. "If it told you anything more, anything that we should hear or can hear, I'd like to hear it right now."
"It told me that I was to proclaim its message here in Viron, its message being that no more were to go. Pig and Hound have heard all this."
"They can stand to hear it again, I'm sure. Have you proclaimed it?"
He tugged with some irritation at his thin, pale beard. "I felt that my task was to find Silk and bring him back-to do the thing I have promised to do. I felt that the godling had no right to give me orders, no matter who or what he may represent. But I haven't found Silk-"
Mint shook her head.
"I haven't, and I'm beginning to believe that may be why-that as long as I refuse to obey, I will not."
Bison said, "There may be some truth in it."
Mint nodded. "In which case, you're nearer to finding him already. You've told us. And these friends, for that matter. Proclaiming would be too strong a word for what you've done so far, but it would seem you're moving in the right direction."
"Thank you. Thank you very, very much." There were tears in his eyes.
"You think my husband's cheated you. I could hear it in your voice a few moments ago."
"No talk!"
"Oreb's right-I shouldn't say what you're suggesting. But if you could hear it, I don't have to."
"He told you the truth. He doesn't know where Silk's living now, and neither do I. After what I've told you about the man who shot me, you should be able to understand that. Quite a few people want Silk back-"
Bison leaned forward again; one thick hand struck the table. "He made my wife calde, and she's made me calde. We've explained all that."
Hound nodded vigorously. "You certainly have."
"So I say to you what I've said before to any number of people. If Silk were to come to me and ask me to resign the office, designating him, I would do it that day."
Mint laid her hand, small and very white, upon Pig's. "You're Horn's friend, and you're concerned about him, I know that, and it does you credit."
"So am I," Hound said.
"I feel sure you are. Horn, you must understand that Silk has friends, too. Not only personal friends, like Pig and Hound are to you, but what might be called public friends, people who love him and supported him. They're very protective of him."
"Such ken yer maun do fer him, mistress?"
"Does that mean know? If it does, they don't. Because we wouldn't. We're friends of Silk's. But many believe we might. Or if they don't believe it, they fear it. Some of them have hidden him away, probably out in the country."
Hound said, "Well, it seems to me that if you were really his friends, he would tell you where."
Mint shook her head. "He hasn't. Because, you see, he is our friend, too. If we knew, and it were known we knew…"
"You might be shot again," Hound said. "I see."
"Yes, or my husband might be shot. Or we both might be poisoned, or whatever you like. Horn, have you noticed that he never said he did not know where Silk was? He said he did not know where he was living. He's been hidden away by the Prolocutor, I believe."
Bison rose. "I need to talk to him. You must excuse me, darling, gentlemen. I'll see if my glass can find him."
As Bison left, Mint said, "He wants to find out where it is for you, I suppose-"
"Good man!" Oreb announced his approval.
"I doubt that's wise," Mint continued pensively, "but I doubt even more that His Cognizance will tell him. He might offer to provide a guide, but that's not likely to do much good. May I tell you about our little ghost? That might be helpful."
With a satisfied grunt, Pig pushed his plate away. "Wish yer would."
"I will. This palace, as I'm sure you understand, was built in the days of Viron's prosperity, when it had more people and far more money. After the death of Calde Tussah, it was shut up. Councilor Lemur, who was the real ruler of the city when I was a child and a young woman, dared neither to declare himself calde nor to hold an election he might have lost. He contented himself with actual power, and let the trappings of power go. This palace remained vacant for about thirty years."
"Calde Silk reopened it," Hound informed Pig.
"He did. He and my friend Marble lived here at first, with her granddaughter, a Flier whose friends had been killed by the Trivigauntis, and some others. Did you live here too, Horn? I know you were with him then. Did you go home at night?"
He shook his head. "We ate here and slept in one of the rooms upstairs."
"Of which there are a great many. The first floor is devoted to public rooms like this one. There's a ballroom, a huge sellaria, the reception room you saw, and the library. And kitchens, sculleries, pantries, and so on. My husband and I sleep in a suite on the next floor, and there are more for guests, quite a lot of them. Above them are rooms for aides, maids, attendants, ladies-in-waiting, valets, and the rest of it. Above that is another floor with rooms for the palace staff. They're small and I've never counted them, but there must be nearly a hundred. Our own staff isn't anywhere near that large. Neither was Calde Silk's when he and his wife lived here."
Hound asked whether some of the rooms were haunted, and Mint favored him with a smile. "They all are, if you want to call it that. Our little ghost is most often met with in the rooms we use most, but that's probably just because there is someone to see her in those. Do you have a comment to give us, Horn?"
"Silk talk!" Oreb demanded.
"Only that you haven't talked about the topmost floor, General."
She nodded. "Because I haven't been up there. I have to be carried up and down the stairs now, so I'll probably never go. I've been told that it's a perfect warren of storerooms filled with all sorts of stuff. I haven't mentioned our cellars either, for the same reason. There are nine or ten cellars on three levels."
"Knew a hizzie 'twas frighted by a ghaist h'in a cote h'in ther lightlands," Pig rumbled.
Mint smiled again. "But that ghost was a spirit, I'm sure. Ours is material. Or at least I think she is. She walks like I do to mock me, which suggests she might be a devil. I really can't believe that, however, though some devils are material. But she takes things, and she's been known to leave footprints in dust and snow. I told you so much about this palace, because I wanted you to understand why our searches have failed thus far. Do you, Horn?"
He nodded, to which Oreb added, "Yes, yes!"
"Good. If any of you would like to tour this floor when we're through here, I'll take you around and tell you as much as I know about the rooms and furnishings."
Hound said eagerly, "I would. Very much."
"Auld Pig'll push yer, mistress. Proud ter."
"Then we shall do it, and that's a promise. Horn has seen them already, I know. Perhaps he might enjoy seeing them again."
He nodded, and for Pig's sake added, "Yes. Certainly."
"I've been calling our little ghost `her,' and none of you have challenged it. Do you want to, Horn?"
"No." He was no longer looking at Mint's small, almost colorless face, but at the room itself, half expecting to see Olivine peeping around some corner. Mucor's death's-head stare mingled with the reflections in the glass covering a picture, but faded to nothing as he watched it.
"She wears a skirt of some rough cloth," Mint was saying, "and covers her head with a shawl or scarf. So she looks female, and we assume she is. My husband thinks she is a child from one of the houses nearby who disguises herself and slips in now and then. My own guess is that she's a beggar girl who took up residence while the palace was empty and has chosen to remain. The fact that our searc
hes have failed to find her weighs on my husband's side, I confess. Have you theories of your own?"
No one spoke. Hound shook his head.
"Horn? You were recommended to Pig by another ghost, as we heard a few minutes ago. You must have some conjecture."
Oreb croaked, "Silk talk!" impatiently.
"I have nothing to say," he told Mint, "beyond the comment that both the theories you've outlined seem implausible to me. You challenge me, very justly, to put forward a better one; but I can't."
Mint raised her eyebrows. "You have no idea whether she's female or not?"
"Why, no. If everyone who has seen her thinks her female, I would think it highly probable she is."
Beside him Pig muttered, "Have a care, bucky."
Hound said, "If she's material, not a real ghost, you might set a trap for her. My wife and I have a little shop in Endroad, and we sell them there, traps for animals, I mean. I can give you the name of a man who'll make you a bigger one."
Mint shook her head. "That would be cruel. I would much rather have a ghost to talk about than catch a child in a trap. But I haven't told you the most interesting part so far. She was seen again yesterday."
"Fient!"
"Yes, she was, Pig. By our cook. And she had Silk's ghost with her. Horn?"
"It still sounds as though you're saying Silk is dead."
"I'm not. Our cook, you must understand, thinks our little ghost is a real ghost, the spirit of someone who left this life without attaining Mainframe. All the servants-"
Bison, returning to his chair, shook his head. "I don't believe in ghosts."
"I didn't say you did, darling, I said they do. As it happens, I believe in them myself. But not in ghosts who steal and leave footprints."
Bison said, "We don't see her for months. Then somebody hears her walking on the floor above and it starts all over again. We hear her a lot more than we see her, really."
Mint nodded. "I was about to say, Horn, that even though I believe in ghosts, I don't believe in this one. And since our limping child isn't a real ghost, I doubt that Silk was a ghost either. I think it was the living Calde Silk our cook saw. Were you able to reach His Cognizance, darling? You were at it long enough. What did he say?"
Bison hitched his high-backed armchair nearer the table. "Don't you want to finish with the ghost first?"
"I'm nearly finished. I was going to say that Silk wasn't wearing his robe. He comes to this palace in lay clothing quite often, so that isn't surprising. A calde, even a former one, has to be extremely careful. At any rate, he was wearing ordinary clothes, according to our cook. But they must have been very dirty. She said they looked as though he'd escaped his grave."
"Did he have…?" Hound pointed to Oreb.
"No bird?"
Mint shook her head. "In a robe, with his famous pet upon his shoulder, he would have been recognized by everyone. With neither, he was still recognized by our cook, who used to be his. She must have seen him every day then, or very nearly. Wouldn't you say she sees you about that often, darling?"
Bison nodded.
"After I became calde, he and Hyacinth were often here as our guests. Shall I bring the cook in so you can question her yourselves?"
"Nae fer me, mistress."
"What do you think, Hound? Should I bring her in?"
With more spirit than might have been expected, Hound said, "I think we should all be open and honest for a change."
Oreb flapped his applause. "Silk talk!"
"Very well," he said, "I will begin. You know, obviously, that it was I and not Calde Silk your cook saw. It was. If you want to bring her in and have her identify me, go ahead."
Mint said, "No."
"As you wish." He was about to mention the gardener, but reflected that the old man had not betrayed him; the least he could do was to reciprocate. "You want me to tell you who your ghost is. I understand that-I'd feel the same way in your place. But she reposed her trust in me, thinking I was Patera Silk; and I intend to keep faith with her."
Bison said, "She thought you were Silk."
He nodded. "I just said so."
"So does the Prolocutor. He wants you to sacrifice in the Grand Manteion this afternoon."
"I've told you I'm not an augur."
Mint said, "You would be assisting him, I would imagine," and Bison nodded.
Pig pushed back his chair. "Best gang, bucky, an' yer weel nae. Bide, an' she'll make fast."
"But we hope he will," Bison said, "and if he will there's no reason he shouldn't remain. I ask it as a favor to me, and to my wife."
"So do I," Mint declared.
"Gang h'or bide, bucky?" Pig's big hand found his forearm.
He shrugged. "Bide. I've honored General Mint since I was a boy. I can't refuse her now."
"Good!" Bison poured himself more wine. "Your friend Hound says we ought to be more honest, so here's my contribution. I knew about this when you came to my office. That is to say, I knew that the Chapter has been looking for you and that it was because the Prolocutor had heard you were here and wanted you for manteion this afternoon. I didn't want you to do it, and so-"
Hound interrupted. "Why not?"
"Because I thought he was going to tell everybody to get on landers. We've had too much of that already. Besides, I don't have landers to give them. A couple, actually, but they're not in working order. It would cost more than the city can spare to send them off." Bison sipped his wine. "But he's not going to say that. Are you?"
"No." He sighed. "No, I'm not. I'm going to tell them what the godling told me, which is that they are to remain. That Pas-well, never mind. I'll tell them to stay, and ask their help in finding Silk."
"Silk here," Oreb declared testily.
Mint nodded. "You said our little ghost mistook you for Calde Silk."
"Yes," he said. "She did." He recalled the gardener again and added, "It happens fairly frequently."
"I dare say. Darling, I should let you finish, but I'll do it for you. Possibly I can save you embarrassment. You were going to confess, weren't you, that you arranged this luncheon to get our guests out of the Prolocutor's reach? You were going to keep them here on one pretext or another until his sacrifice was over. Isn't that right?"
Bison grunted assent.
"Very well." Mint raised a shirred oyster halfway to her mouth, then laid her fork aside. "We've had Horn's honesty and my husband's. I don't think Oreb has to unburden his conscience. He's been entirely open from the beginning. I'll go next, and after that it will be Hound's turn, and Pig's. I intend to require it of you both, gentlemen, so be warned."
"Nae meself fashes me, mistress," Pig rumbled.
"Here then is my confession,"Mint continued. "Horn, you said our ghost mistook you for Calde Silk, and implied that our cook did as well. You say such mistakes happen often."
"Yes."He was looking around again, not for Olivine or Mucor this time, but because he wanted to see the room itself.
(I'll never come here again, he thought. Soon we'll go to the Grand Manteion, and I'll assist. I don't know where we'll go after that, perhaps back to Ermine's or the Juzgado, but we won't come back here. I'll walk out the big door, the troopers will shut it behind me, and I'll never see this any more.)
"Were you on Blue before you came here? You were sent out from there, you said, and you talk about taking Silk there."
He shook his head. "I was on Green. I spent nearly a year there; but I came there from Blue. We've a house-you'd call it a cot tage-on the south end of Lizard Island, near the Tail. A house and a mill. I used to have a boat, too, though I'm afraid that's gone forever."
"I must ask you this. It may be cruel. I think it is, but I have to. Were mistakes of this kind common when you were on Green? Did people there sometimes call you Silk, for example?"
He shook his head again. "I doubt that any of them had ever seen Silk-or knew his name, unless they had heard it from me."
"New Viron must have been settled by people
from here. Its name implies that. There must be many people there who've heard of Calde Silk, and some who saw him at one time or another. Did they mistake you for Silk, Horn? Did that ever happen?"
"No," he said. And then, when no one else spoke, added, "I know what you're going to say."
"Do you? Then why don't you say it yourself and save me the trouble."
Oreb took up the word. "Say Silk!"
He ate instead, hoping that someone else would speak.
"Pig and Hound know. Are you aware of that? They have from the beginning. I asked Pig to push my chair, and as soon as we were out of earshot I explained to him that I had taught Horn, and seen him in my classroom every day."
"No see!" Oreb commented. "No boy."
"My husband told me you were calling yourself Horn when we talked on our glasses, but he thought it was to deceive the men with you. He had fallen in with the imposition, and suggested I fall in with it, too. I did, but soon came to suspect that you believed it yourself. I asked Pig, and he confirmed it. You had never been trying to deceive him, Silk. Neither had you tried to deceive Hound. You have only been trying to deceive yourself, and now even that is at an end."
"You've never had any of the pickled pilchards," he told Pig. "Would you like a couple? I'm going to try them myself."
"Horn went." Mint's face was grim. "He carried out the Plan of Pas, as we did not. It has cost me sleepless nights, Calde. It has cost you a great deal more, I'm afraid. Horn incurred no guilt. You would be rid of yours, if you could, just as I would prefer to be rid of mine. But you cannot rid yourself of it like this."
"Thank yer, bucky. Thank yer kin'ly."
Having added three pickled pilchards to Pig's plate, he forked two more onto his own. "I know I look like Patera Silk, but I also know who I am," he said. "No one, not even you, Maytera, can make a man who knows who he is believe that he is someone else."
15. HOME
Wind in the west, but it is not much of a wind and we are on the lee side of Mucor's Rock. We could have anchored in the little bay. Perhaps we should have.
Shadow for us, while all around us the blue water dances in the last light.