CALDE OF THE LONG SUN botls-3

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."r />
  "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