CALDE OF THE LONG SUN botls-3

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CALDE OF THE LONG SUN botls-3 Page 35

by Gene Wolfe


  may be dead. I can't say."

  "Tell me what happened, please."

  Slowly, Quetzal's hairless head swung from side to side. "It would

  be better, Patera Calde, for you to tell me. You've been very near

  death. I need to know what you've forgotten."

  "There's water in these tunnels. I was in them before, Your

  Cognizance. In places there was a great deal."

  "This is not one of those places. If you have recovered enough to

  grasp how ill you are and keep a promise, I'll find some. Do you

  remember blessing the crowds with me? Tell me about that."

  "We were trying to bring peace--peace to Viron. Blood had

  bought it--Musk, but Musk was only a tool of Blood's."

  "Had bought the city, Patera Calde?"

  Silk's mouth opened and closed again.

  "What is it, Patera Calde?"

  "Yes, Your Cognizance, he has. He, and others like him. I hadn't

  thought of that until you asked. I'd been confusing the things."

  "What things, Patera Calde?"

  "Peace and saving my manteion. The Outsider asked me to save

  it, and then the insurrection broke out, and I thought I would have

  saved it if only I could bring peace, because the people made me

  calde, and I would save it by an order." For a second or two, Silk lay

  silent, his eyes half closed. "Blood--men like Blood--have stolen

  the city, every part of it except the Chapter, and the Chapter has

  resisted only because you are at its head, Your Cognizance. When

  you're gone..."

  "When I die, Patera Calde?"

  "If you were to die, Your Cognizance, they'd have it all. Musk

  actually signed the papers. Musk was the owner of record--the man

  whose body we burned on the altar, Your Cognizance. I remember

  thinking how horrible it would be if Musk were the real owner and

  clenching my teeth--puffing myself up with courage I've never

  really had and telling myself over and over that I couldn't allow it to

  happen."

  "You're the only man in Viron who doubts your courage, Patera

  Calde."

  Silk scarcely heard him. "I was wrong. Badly mistaken. Musk

  wasn't the danger, was never the danger, really. There are scores of

  Musks in the Orilla, and Musk loved birds. Did I tell you that, Your

  Cognizance?"

  "No, Patera Calde. Tell me now, if you wish."

  "He did. Mucor told me he liked birds, and he'd brought her a

  book about the cats she carried for Blood. When he saw Oreb, he

  said I'd gotten him because I wanted to be friends, which wasn't

  true, and threw his knife at him. He missed, and I believe he

  intended to miss. Blood, with his money and his greed for more, has

  done Viron more harm than all the Musks. Everything I've done has

  been trying to pry bits of the city from Blood. I was trying to save

  my manteion, I said; but you can't save just one manteion--I can't

  save our quarter and nothing else. I see that now. And yet I like

  Blood, or at least I would like to like him."

  "I understand, Patera Calde."

  "Little pieces--the manteion, and Hyacinth and Orchid, and Auk,

  because Auk matters so much to Maytera Mint. Auk..."

  "Yes, Patera Calde?"

  "Auk pushed me, Your Cognizance. We had been together in the

  floater, Hyacinth and I. Your Cognizance, too, and--and others.

  We were coming down, and Colonel Oosik--"

  "You've made him Generalissimo Oosik," Quetzal reminded Silk

  gently.

  "Yes. Yes, I did. He passed me the ear, and I talked to the

  convicts, telling them they were free, and then we hit the ground.

  We opened a hatch and Hyacinth and I climbed out--"

  "I'm satisfied, Patera Calde. Promise me you won't try to stand

  until I come back, and I'll look for water."

  Silk detained him, clasping one boneless, bloodless hand. "You

  can't tell me what's happened to her, Your Cognizance?"

  Again Quetzal's head swung from side to side, a slow and almost

  hypnotic motion.

  "Then Auk has her, I don't know why, and I must get her back

  from him. What happened to me, Your Cognizance?"

  "You were buried alive, Patera Calde. When the floater crashed,

  some of us climbed out. I did, as you see, and you and your young

  woman, as you say. The fencing master, too, and your physician.

  I'm sure of those. The convicts were running to a hole in the ground

  to escape the shooting and explosions. Do you remember them?"

  This time Silk was able to nod without much difficulty, although

  his neck was stiff and painful.

  "There was a ramp down the side of the hole, and a break in this

  tunnel at the bottom. The fencing master and I ducked through.

  Almost at once there was another explosion, and the hole fell in

  behind us. We were lucky to have gotten in. Do you know my

  coadjutor's prothonotary, Patera Calde?"

  "I've met him, Your Cognizance. I don't know him well."

  "He's here. I was surprised to see him, and he to see me. There is

  a woman with him called Chenille who says she knows you. They

  went into the tunnel yesterday, at Limna. They had been trying to

  reach the city."

  "Chenille, Your Cognizance? A tall woman? Red hair?"

  "Exactly so. She's an extraordinary woman. Soon after the

  explosion, the convicts attacked us. They were friendly at first, but

  soon demanded we give them Patera and the woman. We refused,

  and Xiphias killed four. Xiphias is the fencing master. Am I making

  myself clear?"

  "Perfectly, Your Cognizance."

  "We tried to dig our way out and found you. We thought you

  were dead, and Patera and I brought you the Peace of Pas.

  Eventually we stopped digging, having realized that the effort

  was hopeless. For a dozen men with shovels and barrows, two

  days might be enough."

  "I understand, Your Cognizance.

  "By then I was exhausted, though I had dug less than the woman.

  The others left to look for another way out. She and Patera are

  famished, and they have a tessera that they believe will admit them

  to the Juzgado. They promised to return for your body and me. I

  prayed for you after they had gone."

  "Your Cognizance distrusts the gods."

  "I do." Quetzal nodded, his hairless head bobbing on its long neck.

  "I know them for what they are. But consider. I believe in them. I

  have faith. You mentioned your quarter. How many there really

  believe in the gods? Half?"

  "Less than that, I'm afraid, Your Cognizance."

  "What about you, Patera Calde? Look into your heart."

  Silk was silent.

  "I'll give you my thoughts, Patera Calde. This young man

  believes, and he loves the gods even after seeing Echidna. I too

  believe, though I distrust them. He would want me to pray for him,

  and that's my office. I've done it often, hoping I wouldn't be heard.

  This time it's possible one will restore him, to prove she's not at bad

  as I think."

  Faint yet unmistakable, the crack of a needler echoed down the tunnel.

  "That will be Patera, Patera Calde. We've been lucky in the

  matter of weapons. Xiphias has a sword, and had a small needler he

  said w
as yours. You left it on your bed, and he took charge of it for

  you. He gave it to the woman. We found a large one in your

  waistband. Patera took it, surprising me again. Our clergy have

  hidden depths."

  In spite of pain and weakness, Silk smiled. "Some do, perhaps,

  Your Cognizance."

  "Last night before you saw me in the alley, Patera Calde. I met

  your acolyte, young Gulo. He is most embarrassed."

  "I'm sorry to hear that, Your Cognizance."

  "You shouldn't be. His uncle is a major in the Second Brigade.

  One uncle of many. Were you aware of it?"

  "No, Your Cognizance. I don't know much about Patera."

  "Neither do I, though he was one of our copyists until my

  coadjutor sent him to you. He commands several thousand now. It's

  a great responsibility for someone so young. More join every hour,

  he tells me, because they know he's your acolyte."

  Silk managed to swallow. "I hope he won't waste their lives, Your

  Cognizance."

  "So do I. I asked if it was hard. He said he discussed each

  operation with those who would have to fight. He finds them

  sensible, and he knows something of war from his uncle's table talk.

  He fights in the front rank afterward, he says."

  "Your Cognizance mentioned that he was embarrassed."

  "So he is, Patera Calde." Quetzal shook himself, lifting one

  corner of his mouth by the thickness of a thread. "He has

  captured his uncle. Our clergy have hidden depths. The older

  man is humiliated. It's an awkward situation, I'm afraid, but I

  was amused."

  "So am I, Your Cognizance. Thank you."

  Quetzal rose. "We'll find our own amusing, when we find our way

  out. May I look for water?"

  "Of course, Your Cognizance."

  "You won't try to stand until I'm back? Give me your word,

  Patera Calde."

  Silk sat up.

  "Please, Patera--"

  "I have to go with you, Your Cognizance. I have to find water,

  wash, and drink, so I can do whatever I can for Viron and Hyacinth.

  You've got nothing to carry water in, and all four of you couldn't

  possibly carry me far."

  "You've been suffocated, Patera Calde," Quetzal bent over him.

  "We merely thought you dead, and I shouldn't have hinted at a

  miracle. No god can turn back death, and if they could, no god

  would to please us. You were still alive when we dug you out. You

  revived naturally--"

  Unaided, Silk staggered to his feet. "I had a cane, Your Cognizance.

  Master Xiphias gave it to me. I didn't need it then, or at least

  not much. Now I do."

  Quetzal offered him the baculus. "Use this."

  "Never, Your Cognizance. Councillor Lemur called me--No, I won't."

  The tunnel behind them was nearly choked with earth; a trampled

  path led Silk to an opening in the wall. "Is this where you found me,

  Your Cognizance? In there?"

  "Yes, Patera Calde. But if your young woman is in there, she is

  surely dead by now."

  "I realize that." Silk put his head through the opening, "and I

  believe she's in the pit with Auk, anyway; but Master Xiphias values

  that cane, I need it, and it's probably very close to the place where

  you found me." He began to work his shoulders through.

  "Be careful, Patera Calde."

  The wall was shiprock, little more than a cubit thick. Beyond it

  lay a cavity hollowed from the tumbled soil that seemed utterly

  dark. When Silk tried to stand, he found his head capped by a rough

  dome; earth and small stones showered him invisibly. "This could

  collapse any moment," he told the swaying figure in the tunnel.

  "So it could, Patera Calde. Come out, please."

  His questing fingers had come upon stubby protuberances he

  assumed were roots. Exploring his pockets, he discovered the cards

  Remora had given him and used one to scrape away the soil. One

  root wore a ring. He cleared away more soil until he could get a firm

  grip on the hand, tugged, dug farther, and tugged again.

  "There are new sounds in this tunnel, Patera Calde. You had

  better leave that place."

  "I've found someone, Your Cognizance. Somebody else." Silk

  hesitated, unwilling to trust his judgement. "I don't think it's

  Hyacinth. The hand is too big."

  "Then it doesn't matter whose it is. We must go."

  Getting a firm grip on the arm, Silk heaved with all the strength

  that remained to him, and was rewarded by a cataract of earth and a

  dead man's embrace.

  I'm robbing a grave, he thought, spitting grit and wiping his eyes.

  Robbing this man's grave from below--stealing his grave as well as

  his body.

  It should have been at least as amusing as Gulo's uncle the major,

  but was not. Holding onto the jagged edge of the opening in the

  tunnel wall, he succeeded in pulling his own partially buried body

  free. Back in the tunnel (suddenly very glad of its cold, sighing airs

  and watery lights) he was able to extract the corpse from the loose

  soil that had reclaimed it. Quetzal was nowhere to be seen.

  "He's gone to look for water," Silk muttered. "Perhaps water could

  revive you the way something revived me," but the dead man's ears

  were stopped with earth. As he cleaned the pitiful face, Silk added,

  "I'm sorry, Doctor."

  He searched his pockets again; his beads were not there, left

  behind with his own worn and dirty robe at Ermine's. It seemed a

  very long time ago.

  He wriggled back into the dark cavity beyond the tunnel wall.

  Hyacinth had bathed him in their bedroom at Ermine's, undressing

  him, and scrubbing and drying him bit by bit. He ought to have been

  embarrassed (he told himself); but he had been too exhausted to

  feel anything beyond vague satisfaction, a weak pleasure at finding

  himself the object of so beautiful a woman's attention. Now all her

  concern had been undone, and Remora's fine robe, scarcely worn, ruined.

  "You returned me to life, Outsider," Silk murmured as he

  resumed digging, "I wish you'd cleaned me up, too." But the

  Outsider had doubtless been, as Doctor Crane had maintained, no

  more than a vein's bursting.

  Or had Doctor Crane--who had thought himself, or at any rate

  called himself, an agent of the Rani--been in truth an agent of the

  Outsider? Doctor Crane had made it possible for him to proceed in

  his attempt to save the manteion despite his broken ankle; and

  Doctor Crane had freed him when he had been taken by the

  Ayuntamiento. It was conceivable, even likely, that Doctor Crane's

  scepticism had been a test of faith.

  Had he passed?

  Weighing that question, he dug harder than ever, making the

  dark, evil-smelling earth fly. If he had, he would almost certainly be

  tested again, after this surrender to doubt.

  The card struck something hard. At first he assumed it was a

  stone, but it was too smooth; another half minute's work bared the

  new find: a slender hook. As soon as he grasped it to pull it free, he

  knew that he had found the silver-banded cane Xiphias had brought

  to Ermine's for him.

  Without
warning, brilliant light flooded the cavity. He turned

  away from it, covering his eyes.

  "I see you in there. Come on out."

  There was something familiar about the harsh voice, but it was

  not until its owner said, "Put your hands where I can see them," that

  Silk recognized it as Sergeant Sand's.

  Sitting the white stallion in the middle of Fisc Street, Maytera Mint

  surveyed the advancing ranks. Every one of those soldiers would be

  worth three of her best, but they were few. Hearteningly few, and

  the troopers from Trivigaunte had come. Just a few hundred now,

  but thousands more were on the way.

  "Fire and fall back," she called softly, adding under her breath,

  "Gracious Echidna, grant that I be heard by our people but not by

  those soldiers." Then, a trifle louder, "Not too quickly. But not too

  slowly, either. This isn't the time to impress me. Don't get yourselves

  killed."

  The first level metal rank was practically within slug-gun range.

  She wheeled her stallion and cantered off, hearing the firing break

  out behind her, the _whiz...bang!_ of missiles and the dull booming

  of slug guns.

  Someone cried out.

  I told them to, she reminded herself. I emphasized it in the briefing.

  Yet she knew the wound had been real. She reined in the stallion

  and turned to look again: behind the soldiers, Rook's blocking force

  was straggling into position. Too early, she thought. Far too early.

  You never appreciated men like Bison and the captain--men who

  helped you make plans and carried them out--until you got

  something like this.

  One long cable had been looped around each pillar of the Corn

  Exchange; it was not taut yet, nor should it have been. She risked a

  glance up at the towering facade, another at Wool and his bullock

  men, motionless in the shadows half a street away. He and they

  stood ready beside their animals, waiting for her signal.

  The bullock men trusted her. So did the ragged men and women

  who were shooting and retreating as she had taught them. Shooting

  and dying, because they had trusted a weak woman--trusted her

  because Brocket had taught her to ride when she was a child.

  She clapped heels to the stallion's sides. He had been used long

  and hard yesterday, yet he surged forward, a foaming wave of

  strength. Patera Silk's azoth was in her hand; she thumbed the

  demon.

  Seeing its terrible blade split the sky, Wool's bullock men

 

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