"What'll you charge, lad? For the lesson?"
Silk shrugged, trying to hide the agony that lightest of blows had
brought. "I should pay you, sir. And you won."
"Silk win!" Oreb proclaimed from the grip of a yataghan.
Silk die, Silk thought. So be it.
"I learned, lad! Know how long it's been since I had a student who
could teach me anything? I'll pay! Food? You hungry?"
"I think so." Silk leaned upon his foil; in the same way that faces
from his childhood swam into his consciousness, he recalled that he
had once had a walking stick with the head of a lioness carved on its
handle--had leaned upon it like this the last time he had been here,
although he could not remember where he had acquired such a thing
or what had become of it.
"Bread and cheese? Wine?"
"Wonderful." Retrieving the traveling bag, he followed the old
man downstairs.
The kitchen was at once disorderly and clean, glasses and dishes
and bowls, pots and ladles anywhere and everywhere, an iron
bread-pan already in the chair Xiphias offered, as if it fully expected
to join in their conversation, though it found itself banished to the
woodbox. Mismatched glasses crashed down on the table so violently
that for a moment Silk felt sure they had broken.
"Have some? Red wine from the veins of heroes! Care for some?"
It was already gurgling into Silk's glass. "Got it from a student! Fact!
Paid wine! Ever hear of such a thing? Swore it was all good! Not so!
What do you think?"
Silk sipped, then half emptied his glass, feeling that he was indeed
drinking from the flask that had dangled from his bedpost, drinking
new life.
"Bird drink?"
He nodded, and when he could find no napkin patted his mouth
with his handkerchief. "Could we trouble you for a cup of water,
Master Xiphias, for Oreb here?"
The pump at the sink wheezed into motion. "You been out? City
in an uproar! Dodging! Throwing stones! Haven't thrown stones
since I was a sprat! Had a sling! You too? Better armed!" Crystal
water rushed forth like the old man's words until he had filled a
battered tankard. "This new cull, Silk! Going to show 'em! We'll
see... Fighting, fighting! Threw stones, ducked and yelled! Five
with my sword. I tell you? Know how to make a sling?"
Silk nodded again, certain that he was being gulled but unresentful.
"Me too! Used to be good with one!" The tankard arrived with a
cracked green plate holding a shapeless lump of white-rinded cheese
only slightly smaller than Silk's head. "Watch this!" Thrown from
across the room, a big butcher knife buried its blade in the cheese.
"You asked whether I'd been out much tonight."
"Think there's any real fighting now?" Abruptly, Xiphias found
himself siding with Bison. "Nothing! Nothing at all! Snipers shooting
shadows to keep awake." He paused, his face suddenly thoughtful.
"Can't see the other man's blade in the dark, can you? Interesting.
Interesting! Have to try it! A whole new field! What do you think?"
The sight and the rich, corrupt aroma of the cheese had awakened
Silk's appetite. "I think that I'll have a piece," he replied with sudden
resolution. He was about to die--very well, but no god had
condemned him to die hungry. "Oreb, you like cheese, too, I know.
It was one of the first things you told me, remember?"
"Want a plate?" It came with a quarter of what must have been a
gargantuan loaf on a nicked old board, and a bread knife nearly as
large as Auk's hanger. "All I've got! You eat at cookshops, mostly? I
do! Bad now! All shut!"
Silk swallowed. "This is delicious cheese and wonderful wine. I
thank you for it, Master Xiphias and Feasting Phaea." Impelled by
habit, the last words had left his lips before he discovered that he did
not mean them.
"For my lesson!" The old man dropped into a chair. "Can you
throw, lad? Knives and whatnot? Like I just did?"
"I doubt it. I've never tried."
"Want me to teach you? You're an augur?"
Silk nodded again as he sliced bread.
"So's this Silk! You know Bison? He told me! Told us all!"
Xiphias raised his glass, discovered he had neglected to fill it, and
did so. "Funny, isn't it? An augur! Heard about him? He's an
augur too!"
what they say."
"He's here! He's there! Everybody knows him! Nobody knows
where he is! Going to do away with the Guard! Half's on his side
already! Ever hear such nonsense in your life? No taxes, but he'll
dig canals!" Master Xiphias made a rude noise. "Pas and the rest!
Could they do all that people want by this time tomorrow? You
know they couldn't!"
Oreb hopped back onto Silk's shoulder. "Good drink!"
He chewed and swallowed. "You should have some of this cheese,
too, Oreb. It's marvelous."
"Bird full."
Xiphias chortled. "Me too, Oreb! That's his name? Ate when I got
home! Ever see a shoat? Like that! All the meat, half the bread, and
two apples! Why'd you go out?"
Silk patted his lips. "That was what I came to talk to you about,
Master Xiphias. I was on the East Edge--"
"You walked?"
"Walked and ran, yes."
"No wonder you're limping! Wanted to sit, didn't you? I remember!"
"There was no other way by which I might hope to reach the
Palatine," Silk explained, "but there were Guardsmen all along one
side of Box Street, and the rebels--General Mint's people--had
three times as many on the other, young men mostly, but women
and even children, too, though the children were mostly sleeping. I
had trouble getting across."
"I'll lay you did!"
"Maytera--General Mint's people wanted to take me to her when
they found out who I was. I had a hard time getting away from
them, but I had to. I have an appointment at Ermine's."
"On the Palatine? You should've stayed with the Guard! Thousands
there! Know Skink? Tried about suppertime! Took a pounding! Two brigades!
Taluses, too!"
Silk persevered. "But I must go there, without fighting if I can. I
must get to Ermine's." Before he could rein in his tongue he added,
"She might actually be there."
"See a woman, eh, lad?" Xiphias's untidy beard rearranged
itself in a smile. "What if I tell old whatshisname? Old man,
purple robe?"
"I had hoped--"
"I won't! I won't! Forget everything anyhow, don't I? Ask
anybody! We going tomorrow? Need a place to sleep?"
"Day sleep," Oreb advised.
"Tonight," Silk told the old man miserably, "and only I am going.
But it has to be tonight. Believe me, I would postpone it until
morning if I could."
"Drinking wine? No more for us!" Xiphias recorked the bottle and
set it on the floor beside his chair. "Watch your bird! Watch and
learn! Knows more than you, lad!"
"Smart bird!"
"Hear that? There you are!" Xiphias bounced out of his chair.
"Have an appl
e? Forgot 'em! Still a few." He opened the oven door
and banged it shut. "Not in there! Had to move 'em! Cooked the
meat! Where's Auk?"
"I've no idea, I'm afraid." Silk cut himself a second, smaller piece
of cheese. "I hope he's home in bed. May I put that apple you're
looking for in my pocket? I appreciate it very much--I feel a great
deal better--but I must go. I wanted to ask whether you knew a
route to the Palatine that might be safer than the principal street--"
"Yes, lad! I do, I do!" Triumphantly, Xiphias displayed a bright
red apple snatched from the potato bin.
"Good man!"
"And whether you could teach me a trick that might get me past
the fighters on both sides. I knew there must be such things, and
Auk would certainly know them; but it's a long way to the Orilla,
and I wasn't sure that I'd be able to find him. It occurred to me that
he'd probably learned many from someone else, and that you were a
likely source."
"Need a teacher? Yes, you do! Glad you know it! Where's your
needler, lad?"
For a moment Silk was nonplussed. "My--? Right here in my
pocket." He held it up much as Xiphias had the apple. "It isn't
actually mine, however. It belongs to the young woman I'm to meet
at Ermine's."
"Big one! I saw it! Fell out of your pants! Left it upstairs! Want me
to get it? Eat your cheese!"
Xiphias darted through the kitchen door, and Silk heard him
clattering up the stair. "We must go, Oreb." He rose and dropped
the apple into a pocket of his robe. "He intends to go with us, and I
can't permit it." For a second his head spun; the walls of the kitchen
shook like jelly and revolved like a carousel before snapping back
into place.
A dark little hallway beyond the kitchen door led to the stair, and
the door by which they had entered the house. He steadied himself
against the newel post, half hoping to hear the old man on the floor
above or even to see him descending again, but the old house could
not have been more silent if he and Oreb had been alone in it; it
puzzled him until he recalled the canvas mats on the floor of the salon.
Unbolting the door, he stepped into the empty, skylit street. The
tunnels through which he had trudged for so many weary hours
presumably underlay the Palatine, as they seemed to underlie
everything; but they would almost certainly be patrolled by soldiers
like the one from whom he had escaped. He knew of no entrance
except Scylla's lakeshore shrine in any case, and was glad at that
moment that he did not. A big hole, Oreb had said. Was it possible
that Oreb, also, had wandered in those dread-filled tunnels?
Shuddering at the memories he had awakened, Silk limped away
toward the Palatine with renewed determination, telling himself
that his ankle did not really hurt half so much as he believed it did.
His gaze was on the rutted potholed street, for he knew that despite
what he might tell himself, twisting his ankle would put an end to
walking; but regardless of all the self-discipline he brought to bear,
his thoughts threaded the tunnels once more, and hand-in-hand with
Mamelta reentered that curious structure (not unlike a tower, but a
tower thrust into the ground instead of rising into the air) that she
had called a ship, and again beheld below it emptiness darker than
any night and gleaming points of light that the Outsider--at his
enlightenment!--had indicated were whorls, whorls outside the
whorl, to which dead Pas and deathless Echidna, Scylla and her
siblings had never penetrated.
You was goin' to get me out. Said you would. Promised.
Auk, who could not quite see Gelada, heard him crying in the
wind that filled the pitch-black tunnel, while Gelada's tears dripped
from the rock overhead. The two-card boots he had always kept
well greased were sodden above the ankle now. "Bustard?" he called
hopefully. "Bustard?"
Bustard did not reply.
You had the word, you said. Get me out O' here. "I saw you that
time, off to one side." Unable to remember when or where he had
said it last, Auk repeated, "I got eyes like a cat."
It was not quite true because Gelada had vanished when he had
turned his head, yet it seemed a good thing to say. Gelada might
walk wide if he thought he was being watched.
Auk? That your name? Auk? "Sure. I told you." Where's the
Juzgado, Auk? Lot o' doors down here. Which 'uns that 'un, Auk?
"I dunno. Maybe the same word opens 'em all."
This was the widest tunnel he had seen, except he couldn't see
it. The walls to either side were lost in the dark, and he might, for
all he knew, be walking at a slant, might run into the wall
slantwise with any step. From time to time he waved his arms,
touching nothing. Oreb flapped ahead, or maybe it was a bat, or
nothing.
(Far away a woman's voice called, "_Auk? Auk?_")
The tunnel wall was aglow now, but still dark, dark with a
peculiar sense of light--a luminous blackness. The toe of one boot
kicked something solid, but his groping fingers found nothing.
"Auk, my noctolater, are you lost?"
The voice was near yet remote, a man's, deep and laden with sorrow.
"No, I ain't. Who's that?"
"Where are you going, Auk? Truthfully."
"Looking for Bustard." Auk waited for another question, but none
came. The thing he had kicked was a little higher than his knees, flat
on top, large and solid feeling. He sat on it facing the luminous
dark, drew up his legs, and untied his boots. "Bustard's my brother,
older than me. He's dead now, took on a couple Hoppies and they
killed him. Only he's been down here with me a lot, giving me
advice and telling me stuff, I guess because this is under the ground
and it's where he lives on account of being dead."
"He left you."
"Yeah, he did. He generally does that if I start talking to
somebody else." Auk pulled off his right boot; his foot felt colder
than Dace had after Gelada killed him. "What's a noctolater?"
"One who worships by night, as you worship me."
Auk looked up, startled. "You a god?"
"I am Tartaros, Auk, the god of darkness. I have heard you
invoke me many times, always by night."
Auk traced the sign of addition in the air. "Are you standing over
there in the dark talking to me?"
"It is always dark where I stand, Auk. I am blind."
"I didn't know that." Black rams and lambs, the gray ram when
Patera Silk got home safely, once a black goat, first of all the pair of
bats he'd caught himself, surprised by day in the dark, dusty attic of
the palaestra and brought to Patera Pike, all for this blind god.
"You're a god. Can't you make yourself see?"
"No." The hopeless negative seemed to fill the tunnel, hanging in
the blackness long after its sound had faded. "I am an unwilling god,
Auk. The only unwilling god. My father made me do this. If, as a
god, I might have healed myself, I would have obeyed very
willingly, I believe."
"
I asked my mother... Asked Maytera to bring a god down here
to walk with us. I guess she brought you."
"No," Tartaros said again; then, "I come here often, Auk. It is the
oldest altar we have."
"This I'm sitting on? I'll get off."
(Again the woman's voice: "_Auk? Auk?_")
"You may remain. I am also the sole humble god, Auk, or nearly."
"If it's sacred..."
"Wood was heaped upon it, and the carcasses of animals. You
profane it no more than they. When the first people came, Auk,
they were shown how we desired to be worshiped. Soon, they were
made to forget. They did, but because they had seen what they had
seen, a part of them remembered, and when they found our altars
on the inner surface, they sacrificed as we had taught them. First of
all, here."
"I haven't got anything," Auk explained. "I used to have a bird,
but he's gone. I thought I heard a bat a little while ago. I'll try to
catch one, if you'd like that."
"You think me thirsty for blood, like my sister Scylla."
"I guess. I was with her awhile." Auk tried to remember when that
had been; although he recalled incidents--seeing her naked on a
white stone and cooking fish for her--the days and the minutes
slipped and slid.
"What is it you wish, Auk?"
Suddenly he was frightened. "Nothing really, Terrible Tartaros."
"Those who offer us sacrifice always wish something, Auk. Often,
many things. Rain, in your city and many others."
"It's raining down here already, Terrible Tartaros."
"I know, Auk."
"If you're blind..."
"Can you see it, Auk?"
He shook his head. "It's too shaggy dark."
"But you hear it. Hear the slow splash of the falling drops kissing
the drops that fell."
"I feel it, too," Auk told the god. "Every once in a while one goes
down the back of my neck."
"What is it you wish, Auk?"
"Nothing, Terrible Tartaros." Shivering, Auk wrapped himself in
his own arms.
"All men wish for something, Auk. Most of all, those who say
they wish for nothing."
"I don't, Terrible Tartaros. Only if you want me to, I'll wish for
something for you. I'd like something to eat."
Silence answered him.
"Tartaros? Listen, if this's a altar I'm sitting on and you're here
talking to me, shouldn't there be a Sacred Window around here
someplace?"
"There is, Auk. You are addressing it. I am here."