by Gene Wolfe
But we might. Now them, how are we going to attack?"
"Behind and before, with as many men as we can," Bison rumbled.
Lime added, "We need to take them by surprise, Maytera."
"Which is another reason for attacking here. When they get to the
Alambrera, they'll think they've reached their goal. They may relax
a little. That will be the time for us to act."
"When the doors open." Bison drove a fist into his palm.
"Yes, I think so. What is it, Zoril?"
"I shouldn't say this. I know what everybody's going to think, but
they've been shooting down on us from the walls and the high
windows. Just about everybody we've lost, we've lost like that." He
waited for contradiction, but there was none.
"There's buildings across the street as high as the wall, Maytera,
and one just a little up the street that's higher. I think we ought to
have people in there to shoot at the men on the wall. Some of mine
that don't have needlers or slug guns could be on the roofs, too,
throwing stones like the messenger talked about. A chunk of
shiprock falling that far ought to hit as hard as a slug, and these
Hoppies have got armor."
Maytera Mint nodded again. "You're right. I'm putting you in
charge of that. Get some people--not just your own, some of the
older boys and girls particularly--busy right away carrying stones
and bricks up there. There must be plenty around after the fires.
"Lime, Your women are no longer fighters unless they've got
needlers or slug guns. We need people to get our wounded out of
the fight and take care of them. They can use their knives or
whatever they have on anyone who tries to interfere with them. And
that woman with the pitchfork? Go get her. I want to talk to her."
A fragment of broken plaster caught Maytera Mint's eye. "Now,
Bison, look here." Picking it up, she scratched two widely spaced
lines on the fire-blackened wall behind her. "This is Cage Street."
With speed born of years of practice, she sketched in the Alambrera
and the buildings facing it.
There was still a good deal of cedar left, and the fire on the altar had
not quite gone out. Silk heaped fresh wood on it and let the wind fan
it for him, sparks streaking Sun Street.
Quetzal had taken charge of Musk's corpse, arranging it decently
beside Maytera Rose's coffin. Maytera Marble, who had gone to the
cenoby for a sheet, had not yet returned.
"He was the most evil man I've ever known." Silk had not
intended to speak aloud, but the words had come just the same.
"Yet I can't help feeling sorry for him, and for all of us, as well,
because he's gone."
Quetzal murmured, "Does you credit, Patera Calde," and wiped
the blade of the manteion's sacrificial knife, which he had rescued
from the dust.
Vaguely, Silk wondered when he had dropped it. Maytera Rose
had always taken care of it, washing and sharpening it after each
sacrifice, no matter how minor; but Maytera Rose was gone, as
dead as Musk.
After he had cut the sign of addition in Villas's ankle, of course,
when he had knelt to suck out the poison.
When he had met Blood on Phaesday, Blood had said that he had
promised someone--had promised a woman--that he would pray at
this manteion for her. Suddenly Silk knew (without in the least
understanding how he knew) that the "woman" had been Musk. Was
Musk's spirit lingering in the vicinity of Musk's body and prompting
him in some fashion? Whispering too softly to be heard? Silk traced
the sign of addition, knowing that he should add a prayer to
Thelxiepeia, the goddess of magic and ghosts, but unable to do so.
Musk had bought the manteion for Blood with Blood's money;
and Musk must have felt, in some deep part of himself that all his
evil actions had not killed, that he had done wrong--that he had by
his purchase offended the gods. He had asked Blood to pray for
him, or perhaps for them both, in the manteion that he had bought;
and Blood had promised to do it.
Had Blood kept his promise?
"If you'd help with the feet, Patera Calde?" Quetzal was standing
at the head of Maytera Rose's coffin.
"Yes, of course, Your Cognizance. We can carry that in."
Quetzal shook his head. "We'll lay it on the sacred fire, Patera
Calde. Cremation is allowed when burial is impractical. If you
would...?"
Silk picked up the foot of the coffin, finding it lighter than he had
expected. "Shouldn't we petition the gods, Your Cognizance? On
her behalf?"
"I already have, Patera Calde. You were deep in thought. Now
then, as high as you can, then quickly down upon the fire. Without
dropping it, please. One, two, _three!_"
Silk did as he was told, then stepped hurriedly away from the
lengthening flames. "Possibly we ought to have waited for Maytera,
Your Cognizance."
Quetzal shook his head again. "This way is better, Patera Calde. It
would be better for you to keep from looking at the fire, too. Do
you know why coffins have that peculiar shape, by the way? Look at
me, Patera Calde."
"To allow for the shoulders, Your Cognizance, or so I've
heard."
Quetzal nodded. "That's what everyone's told. Would this sibyl of
yours need extra room for her shoulders? Look at me, I said."
Already the thin, stained wood was blackening honestly, charring
as the flames that licked it brought forth new flames. "No," Silk said,
and looked away again. (It was strange to think that this bent, bald
old man was in fact the Prolocutor.) "No, Your Cognizance. Nor
would most women, or many men."
There was a stench of burning flesh.
"They do it so that we, the living, will know at which end the head
lies, when the lid's on. Coffins are sometimes stood on end, you see.
Patera!"
Silk's gaze had strayed to the fire again. He turned away and
covered his eyes.
"I would have saved you that if I could," Quetzal told him, and
Maytera Marble, arriving with the sheet, inquired, "Saved him from
what, Your Cognizance?"
"Saved me from seeing Maytera Rose's face as the flames
consumed it," Silk told her. He rubbed his eyes, hoping that she
would think he had been rubbing them before, that he had gotten
smoke in them.
She held out one end of the sheet. "I'm sorry I took so long,
Patera. I--I happened to see my reflection. Then I looked for
Maytera Mint's mirror. My cheek is scratched."
Silk took corners of the sheet in tear-dampened fingers; the wind
tried to snatch it from him, but he held it fast. "So it is, Maytera.
How did you do it?"
"I have no idea!"
To his surprise, Quetzal lifted Musk's half-consumed body easily.
Clearly, this venerable old man was stronger than he appeared.
"Spread it flat and hold it down," he told them. "We'll lay him on it
and fold it over him."
A moment more, and Musk, too, rested among the flames.
"It's our duty to tend the fire until both have burned. We don't
have to
watch, and I suggest we don't." Quetzal had positioned
himself between Silk and the altar. "Let us pray privately for the
repose of their spirits."
Silk shut his eyes, bowed his head, and addressed himself to the
Outsider, without much confidence that this most obscure of gods
heard him or cared about what he said, or even existed.
"_And yet I know this_." (His lips moved, although no sound issued
from them.) "_You are the only god for me. It is better for me that I
should give you all my worship, though you are not, than that I
should worship Echidna or even Kypris, whose faces l have seen.
Thus I implore your mercy on these, our dead. Remember that I,
whom once you signally honored, ought to have loved them both but
could not, and so failed to provide the impetus that might have
brought them to you before Hierax claimed them. Mine therefore is
the guilt for any wrong they have done while they have known me. I
accept it, and pray you will forgive them, who burn, and forgive me
also, whose fire is not yet lit. Obscure Outsider, be not angry with us,
though we have never sufficiently honored you. All that is outcast,
discarded, and despised is yours. Are this man and this woman, who
have been neglected by me, to be neglected by you as well? Recall the
misery of our lives and their deaths. Are we never to find rest? I have
searched my conscience, Outsider, to discover that in which l have
displeased you. I find this: That I avoided Maytera Rose whenever I
could, though she might have been to me the grandmother I have
never known; and that I hated Musk, and feared him too, when he
had not done me the least wrong. Both were yours, Outsider, as I
now see; and for your sake I should have been loving with both. I
renounce my pride, and I will honor their memories. This I swear.
My life to you, Outsider, if you will forgive this man and this woman
whom we burn today_."
Opening his eyes he saw that Quetzal had already finished, if he
had ever prayed. Soon Maytera Marble raised her head as well, and
he inquired, "Would Your Cognizance, who knows more about the
immortal gods than anyone else in the whorl, instruct me regarding
the Outsider? Though he's enlightened me, as I informed your
coadjutor, I would be exceedingly grateful if you could tell me
more."
"I have no information to give, Patera Calde, regarding the
Outsider or any other god. What little I have learned in the course
of a long life, regarding the gods, I have tried to forget. You saw
Echidna. After that, can you ask me why?"
"No, Your Cognizance." Silk looked nervously at Maytera
Marble.
"I didn't, Your Cognizance. But I saw the Holy Hues and heard
her voice, and it made me wonderfully happy. I remember that she
exhorted all of us to purity and confirmed Scylla's patronage,
nothing else. Can you tell me what else she said?"
"She told your sib to overthrow the Ayuntamiento. Let that be
enough for you, Maytera, for the present."
"Maytera Mint? But she'll be killed!"
Quetzal's shoulders rose and fell. "I think we can count on it,
Maytera. Before Kypris manifested here on Scylsday, the Windows
of our city had been empty for decades. I can't take credit for that, it
wasn't my doing. But I've done everything in my power to prevent
theophanies. It hasn't been much, but I've done what I could. I
proscribed human sacrifice, and got it made law, for one thing. I
admit I'm proud of that."
He turned to Silk. "Patera Calde, you wanted to know if I
protested when the Ayuntamiento failed to hold an election to
choose a new calde. You were right to ask, more right than you
knew. If a new calde had been elected when the last died, we
wouldn't have had that visit from Echidna today."
"If Your Cognizance--"
"No, I want to tell you. There are many things you have to know
as calde, and this is one. But the situation wasn't as simple as you
may think. What do you know about the Charter?"
"Next to nothing, Your Cognizance. We studied when I was a boy--that
is to say, our teacher read it to us and answered our questions.
I was ten, I think."
Maytera Marble said, "We're not supposed to teach it now. It was
dropped from all the lesson plans years ago."
"At my order," Quetzal told them, "when even mentioning it
became dangerous. We have copies at the Palace, however, and I've
read it many times. It doesn't say, Patera Calde, that an election
must be held on the death of the calde, as you seem to believe. What
it really says is that the calde is to hold office for life, that he may
appoint his successor, and that a successor is to be elected if he dies
without havmg done it. You see the difficulty?"
Uneasily, Silk glanced up and down the street, seeing no one near
enough to overhear. "I'm afraid not, Your Cognizance. That sounds
quite straightforward to me."
"It does _not_ say that the calde must announce his choice,
you'll notice. If he wants to keep it secret, he can do it. The reasons are
so obvious I hesitate to explain them."
Silk nodded. "I can see that it would put them both in an
uncomfonable position."
"In a very dangerous one, Patera Calde. Partisans of the successor
might assassinate the calde, while those who'd hoped to become
calde would be tempted to murder the successor. When the last
calde's will was read, it was found to designate a successor. I
remember the exact wording. It said, 'Though he is not the son of
my body, my son will succeed me.' What do you make of that?"
Silk stroked his cheek. "It didn't name this son?"
"No. I've given you the entire clause. The calde had never
married, as I should have told you sooner. As far as anybody knew,
he had no sons."
Maytera Marble ventured, "I never knew about this, Your
Cognizance. Didn't the son tell them?"
"Not that I know of. It's possible he did and was killed secretly by
Lemur or one of the other councillors, but I doubt it." Quetzal
selected a long cedar split and poked the sinking fire. "If they'd done
that, I'd have heard about it by this time. Probably much sooner. No
public announcement was made, you understand. If there'd been
one, pretenders would have put themselves forward and made
endless trouble. The Ayuntamiento searched in secret. To be frank,
I doubt that the boy would have lived if they'd found him."
Silk nodded reluctantly.
"If it had been a natural son, they could've used medical tests. As
it was, the only hope was turn up a record. The monitors of every
glass that could be located were queried. Old documents were read
and reread, and the calde's relatives and associates interrogated, all
without result. An election should have been held, and I urged one
repeatedly because I was afraid we'd have a theophany from Scylla
unless something was done. But an election would have been illegal,
as I had to admit. The calde had designated his successor. They
simply couldn't find him."
"Then I'll have no right to office if it's forced on me."
"Hardly. In the first place, that was a generation ago. It's likely
the adopted son's dead if he ever existed. In the second, the Charter
was written by the gods. It's a document expressing their will
regarding our governance nothing more. It's clear they're displeased
with the present state of things, and you're the only
alternative, as Maytera told you."
Quetzal handed the sacrificial knife to Maytera Marble. "I think
we can go now, Maytera. You must stay. Watch the fire until it goes
out. When it does, carry the ashes into your manteion and dispose
of them as usual. You may notice bones or teeth among them. Don't
touch them, or treat them differently from the rest of the ashes in
any way."
Maytera Marble bowed.
"Purify the altar as usual. If you can get people to help you, take it
back into the manteion. Your Sacred Window, too."
She bowed again. "Patera has already instructed me to do so,
Your Cognizance."
"Fine. You're a good sensible woman, Maytera, as I said. I was
glad to see that you had resumed your coif when you went back to
your cenoby. You've my permission to enter the manse. There's an
old woman there. I think you'll find she's well enough to go home.
There's a boy on one of the beds upstairs. You can leave him there
or carry him into your cenoby to nurse, if that will be more
convenient. See to it that he doesn't exert himself, and that he
drinks a lot of water. Get him to eat, if you can. You might cook
some of this meat for him."
Quetzal turned to Silk. "I want to look in on him again, Patera,
while Maytera's busy with the fire. I'm also going to borrow a spare
robe I saw up there, your acolyte's, I suppose. It looked too short
for you, but it should fit me, and when we meet the rebels--perhaps
we should call them servants of the Queen of the Whorl, some such.
When we meet them, it may help if they know who I am as well as
who you are."
Silk said, "I feel certain Patera Gulo would want you to have
anything that can be of any assistance whatsoever to you, Your
Cognizance."
As Quetzal tottered away, Maytera Marble asked, "Are you going
to help Maytera Mint, Patera? You'll be in frightful danger, both of
you. I'll pray for you."
"I'm much more worried about you than about myself," Silk told