by Gene Wolfe
box touched his cap politely.
The box might contain an order to arrest every augur in the city,
Silk mused; the galloping officer might be bringing Oosik word of
another battle. It would be well, might in fact be of real value, for
him to read those dispatches and hear the news that the galloping
officer brought.
But he had already heard, as he walked, the most important
news, news pronounced by the muzzles of guns: the Ayuntamiento
did not occupy all the city between this remote eastern quarter and
the Palatine. He would have to make his way along streets in which
Guardsmen and Maytera Mint's rebels were slaughtering each
other, return to the ones that he knew best--and then, presumably,
cross another disputed zone to reach the Palatine.
For the Guard would hold the Palatine if it held anything, and in
fact the captain had indicated only that morning that a full brigade
had scarcely sufficed to defend it Molpsday night. Combatants on
both sides would try to prevent him; he might be killed, and the
exertions he was making this moment might kill him as surely as any
slug. Yet he had to try, and if he lived he would see Hyacinth tonight.
His free hand had begun to draw Musk's needler. He forced it
back to his side, reflecting grimly that before shadeup he might
learn some truths about himself that he would not prefer to
ignorance. Unconsciously, he increased his pace.
Men thought themselves good or evil; but the gods--the Outsider
especially--must surely know how much depended upon circumstance.
Would Musk, whose needler he had nearly drawn a few
seconds before, have been an evil man if he had not served Blood?
Might not Blood, for that matter, be a better man with Musk gone?
He, Silk, had sensed warmth and generosity in Blood beneath his
cunning and his greed, potentially at least.
Something dropped from the sky, lighting on his shoulder so
heavily he nearly fell. "Lo Silk! Good Silk!"
"Oreb! Is it really you?"
"Bird back." Oreb caught a lock of Silk's hair in his beak and gave
it a tug.
"I'm very glad--immensely glad you've returned. Where have you
been? How did you get here?"
"Bad place. Big hole!"
"It was I who went into the big hole, Oreb. By the lake, in that
shrine of Scylla's, remember?"
Oreb's beak clattered. "Fish heads?"
Chapter 6 -- The Blind God
Oreb had eyed Dace's corpse hopefully when Urus let it fall to the
tunnel floor and spun around to shout at Hammerstone. "Why we
got to find him? Tell me that! Tell me, an' I'll look till I can't shaggy
walk, till I got to crawl--"
"Pick it up, you." Without taking his eyes off Urus, Hammerstone
addressed Incus. "All right if I kill him, Patera? Only I won't be able
to carry them both and shoot."
Incus shook his head. "He has a _point_, my son, so let us consider
it. _Ought_ we, as he inquires, continue to search for our friend Auk?"
"I'll leave it up to you, Patera. You're smarter than all of us,
smarter than the whole city'd be if you weren't living there. I'd do
anything you say, and I'll see to it these bios do, too."
"_Thank_ you, my son." Incus, who was exceedingly tired already,
lowered himself gratefully to the tunnel floor. "Sit _down_, all of you.
We shall discuss this."
"I don't see why." Tired herself, Chenille grounded her launcher.
"Stony there does whatever you tell him to, and he could do for me
and Urus like swatting flies. You say it and we'll do it. We'll have to."
"Sit _down_. My daughter, can't you see how very _illogical_ you're
being? You _maintain_ that you're forced to obey in _all things_,
yet you will not oblige even the simplest request."
"All right." She sat; and Hammemtone, laying a heavy hand on
Urus, forced him to sit, too.
"Where Auk?" Oreb hopped optimistically across the damp gray
shiprock. "Auk where?" Although he could not have put the feeling
into words, Oreb felt that he was nearer Silk when he was with Auk
than in any other company. The red girl was close to Silk as well, but
she had once thrown a glass at him, and Oreb had not forgotten.
"_Where_ indeed?" Incus sighed. "My daughter, you invite me to be a
_despot_, but what you say is true. I might lord it over you both if I
chose. I need not lord it over our friend. _He_ obeys me very willingly,
as you have seen. But I am _not_, by inclination, training, or _native
character_ inclined toward despotism. A holy augur's part is to lead
and to advise, to _conduct_ the laity to rich fields and _unfailing_
springs, if I may put it thus _poetically_.
"So _let us_ review our position and take _council_, one with another.
Then I will lead us in prayer, a fervent and _devout_ prayer, let it be,
to all the Nine, _imploring_ their guidance."
"Then we'll decide?" Urus demanded.
"Then _I_ will decide, my son." By an effort, Incus sat up straighter.
"But _first_, allow me to dispel certain fallacies that have already crept
into our deliberations." He addressed himself to Chenille. "_You_, my
daughter, seek to accuse me of despotism. It is _impolite_, but
courtesy itself must at times give way to the _sacred duty_ of
_correction_. May I remind you that _you_, for the space of nearly _two
days, tyrannized_ us all aboard that miserable boat? Tyrannized _me_
largely by means of our unfortunate friend, for whom we have
already searched, as I would think, for nearly half a day?"
"I'm not saying we ought to stop, Patera. That was him." She
pointed to Urus. "I want to find him."
"Be _quiet_, my daughter. I am not yet finished with _you_. I shall
come to _him_ soon enough. _Why_, I inquire, did you so tyrannize us? I
say--"
"I was possessed! Scylla was in me. You know that."
"No, no, my daughter. It won't _do_. It is what you have _maintained_,
deflecting all criticism of your conduct with the same _shabby_
defense. It shall serve you no longer. You were _domineering,
oppressive_, and _brutal_. Is that characteristic of _Our Surging Scylla?_ I
affirm that it is _not_. As we have trudged on, I have reviewed all that
is recorded of _her_, both in the _Chrasmologic Writings_ and in our
traditions likewise. _Imperious?_ One can but agree. _Impetuous_ at
times, perhaps. But _never_ brutal, oppressive, or _domineering_." Incus
sighed again, removed his shoes, and caressed his blistered feet.
"_Those_ evil traits, I say, my daughter, _cannot_ have been _Scylla's_.
They were present _in you_ when she arrived, and so deeply rooted
that she found it, I dare say, quite impossible to _expunge_ them.
_Some_ there are, or so I have heard it said, who actually _prefer_
domineering women, _unhappy_ men twisted by nature beyond the
natural. Our poor friend Auk, with all his manifest excellencies of
_strength_ and _manly_ courage, is one of those unfortunates, so it
would seem. I am _not_, my daughter, and I thank Sweet Scylla for it!
Understand that for _my_ part, and for our tall friend's here, as I d
are
to say, we have not sought Auk for your sake, but for _his own_."
"Talk talk," Oreb muttered.
"As for _you_," Incus shifted his attention to Urus, "_you_ appear to
believe that it is only because of my loyal friend _Hammerstone_ that
you obey me. It that not so?"
Urus stared sullenly at the tunnel wall to the left of Incus's face.
"You are _silent_," Incus continued. "Talk and more talk, complains
our small _feathered_ companion, and again, talk, talk and _talk_. Not
impossibly you concur. No, my son, you _deceive_ yourself, as you
have deceived yourself throughout what I feel _certain_ must have
been a most unhappy life." Incus drew Auk's needler and leveled it
at the silent Urus. "I have but little _need_ of my tall friend
Hammerstone, where _you_ are concerned, and should this endless _talk_ that
you complain of end, you may find yourself less pleased _than ever_
with that which succeeds it. I invite a _comment_."
Urus shook his head. Hammerstone clenched his big fists, clearly
itching to batter him insensible.
"Nothing? In that case, my son, I am going to take the opportunity
to tell you something of _myself_ because I have been pondering that,
with many other things, while we walked, and it will bear upon what
I mean to do, as you will see.
"I was born to poor yet _upright_ parents, their _fifth_ and _final_ child.
At the time they were _wed_, they had made _solemn pledge_ to Echidna
that they would furnish the immortal gods with an augur or a sibyl,
the ripest _fruit_ of their union and the most _perfect_ of all _thank
offerings_ for it. Of my older brothers and sisters, I shall say nothing.
_Nothing_, that is to say, except that there was nothing to be hoped for
from _them_. No more _holy piety_ was to be discovered in the four of
them than in four of those _horrid beasts_ with which you, my son,
proposed to attack us. I was born some _seven years_ after my
youngest sibling, Femur. Conceive of my parents' _delight_, I invite
you, when the passing _days, weeks, months_, and _years_ showed ever
more plainly my _predilection_ for a life of _holy contemplation_, of
_worship_ and _ritual_, far from the _bothersome exigencies_ that trouble
the hours of most men. The schola, if I may say it, welcomed me
with _arms outspread_. Its _warmth_ was no less than that with which I,
in my turn, rushed to _it_. I was together _pious_ and _brilliant_, a
combination not often found._ Thus endowed_, I gained the friendship
of _older men_ of tastes like to _my own_, who were to extend
themselves _without stint_ in my behalf following my _designation_.
"I was informed, and you may conceive of my _rapture_, my _delight_,
that no less a figure than the _coadjutor_ had agreed to make me his
prothonotary. With all my heart I entered into my _duties_, drafting
and summarizing letters and depositions, stamping, filing, and
retrieving files, managing his _calendar of appointments_, and a
hundred like tasks."
Incus fell silent until Chenille said, "By Thelxiepeia I could sleep
for a week!" She leaned back against the tunnel wall and closed her eyes.
"Where Auk?" Oreb demanded, but no one paid him the least attention.
"We are all _exhausted_, my daughter. I not _less_ than you, and
perhaps with more _reason_, because my legs are not so _long_, nor am
I, by a decade and _more_, so young, nor so well fed."
"I'm not even a little bit well fed, Patera." Chenille did not open
her eyes. "I guess none of us are. I haven't had anything but water
since forever."
"When we were on that _wretched_ little fishing boat, you _appropriated_
to yourself what food you _wished_, and _all_ that you wished, my
daughter. You left to _Auk_ and Dace, and even to _me_, an anointed
augur, only such _scraps_ as you disdained. But you have _forgotten_
that, or say you have. I wish that I might forget it, too."
"Fish heads?"
Chenille shrugged, her eyes still closed. "All right, Patera, I'm
sorry. I don't suppose we'll ever find any food down here, but if we
do, or when we get back home, I'll let you have first pick."
"I would _refuse_ it, my daughter. That is the _point_ I am _striving_ to
make. I became His Eminence's prothonotary, as I said. I entered the
_Prolocutor's Palace_, not as an awestruck _visitor_, but as an _inhabitant_.
Each morning I sacrificed _one squab_ in the _Private chapel_ below the
reception hall, chanting my prayers to empty chairs. Afterward, I enjoyed
that same _bird_ at my luncheon. _Upon a monthly basis_, I shrove Patera
Bull, His Cognizance's prothonotary, as _he me_. That was the whole compass
of my duties as an augur.
"But from time to time, His Eminence assigned to _me_ such
errands as he felt, or _feigned_ to feel, overdifficult for a _boy_. One
such brought me to that miserable village of _Limna_, as you know. I
was to search for _you_, my daughter, and it was my _ill luck_ to
succeed. Your own life, I suppose, has been, I will not say
_adventurous_, but _tumultuous_. Is that not so?"
"It's had its ups and downs," Chenille conceded.
"_Mine_ had not, with the result that I had assumed myself
_incapable_. Had some god informed me," Incus paused to thrust
Auk's needler back into his waistband, then contemplated his
scabbed hands, "that I should be forced to serve as the _entire crew_ of
a fishing vessel, _bailing, making sail, reefing_, and all the rest, and
this during a _tempest_ as severe as any the Whorl has ever seen, I
should have called it _quite impossible_, declaring roundly that I
should _die_ within an hour. I would have informed this wholly
supposititious divinity that I was a man of _intellect_, now largely
affecting to be a man of prayer, for my early piety had long since
given way to an advancing _scepticism_. Had he suggested that I might
_yet_ become a man of action, I would have declared it to be _beneath_
me, and thought myself profound."
Urus said, "Well, if you didn't have a needler 'n this big chem,
we'd see."
Incus nodded his agreement, his round, plump little face serious
and his protuberant teeth giving him something of the look of a
resolute chipmunk. "We would _indeed_. Therefore, I shall _kill_ you,
Urus my son, or order Hammerstone to, whenever it appears that I
am liable to lose either."
"Bad man!" It was not immediately apparent whether Oreb
intended Incus or Urus.
Chenille said, "You don't really mean that, Patera."
"Oh, but I do, my daughter. Tell them, Corporal. Do I mean what I say?"
"Sure, Patera. See, Chenille, Patera's a bio like you, and bios like
you and him are real easy to kill. You can't take chances, or him
either. You got a prisoner, he's got to toe the line every minute,
cause if you let him get away with anything, that's it. If it was up to
me, I'd kill him right now, and not chance something happening to Patera."
"We need him to show us how to get to the pit, and that door that
opens into the cellar of the Juzgado."
"Only we're not
going to either one now, are we? And I know
where the Juzgado is if I can get myself located. So why shouldn't I
quiet him down?" As if by chance, Hammerstone's slug gun was
pointing in Urus's direction; his finger found its trigger.
"We _have not_ been going to the pit, I am happy to say," Incus told
them. "It was _Auk_ who wished to go there, for no good reason that _I_
could ever understand. _Unfortunately_, we haven't been going to the
Juzgado, _either_, though it was to the Juzgado that Surging Scylla
directed us. _I_ am the sole person present who _recollects_ her
instructions, possibly. But I _assure you_ it is so."
"All right," Chenille said wearily, "I believe you."
"As you _ought_, my daughter, because it was _through your mouth_
that Scylla spoke. That very _fact_ brings me to another point. She
made Auk, Dace, and _myself_ her prophets, specifying that I am to
replace His Cognizance as _Prolocutor_. Dace has _departed_ this whorl,
so grievously infected by evil, for the richer life of Mainframe.
Succoring Scylla might recall him _if she chose_, perhaps. I _cannot_. If
our search for _Auk_ is to be given up, or at least _postponed_, and I
confess there is _much_ that appeals to me in that, only _I_ remain of
Scylla's three.
"Earlier, _bedeviled_ by multiple interruptions, I _strove_ to explain
my position. Because neither of you has _patience_ for that explanation,
though it would occupy but a _few moments_ at most, I shall _state_
it. Pay _attention_, both of you."
Incus's voice strengthened. "I have awakened to _myself_, both as
_man_ and as augur. A servant of Men, if you will. A servant of the
_gods_, most particularly. You are three. One loves, two _hate_ me. I
am not unaware of it."
"I don't hate you," Chenille protested. "You let me wear this when
I got cold. Auk doesn't hate you either. You just think that."
"Thank you, my daughter. I was about to remark that from what
I've learned from my brother augurs concerning manteions, the
proportion implied is the one most frequently seen, though our
_congregation_ is so much less numerous. Very well, _my good people_,
I accept it. I shall do my best for each and for all, nonetheless,
trusting in a reward from the east."
"See?" Hammerstone nudged Chenille. "What'd I tell you? The