Calde of the Long Sun

Chapter 3 -- A Tessera for the Tunnel

"Bad thing," Oreb muttered, watching the burning talus to see

whether it could hear him. When it did not react, he repeated more

loudly, "Bad thing!"

"Shut up." Auk, too, watched it warily.

Chenille addressed it, stepping forward with her launcher ready.

"We'd put out the fire if we could. If we had blankets or--or

anything we could beat it out with."

"_I die! Hear me!_"

"I just wanted to say we're sorry." She glanced back at the four

men, and Dace nodded.

"_I serve Scylla! You must!_"

Incus drew himself up to his full height. "You may rely upon me to

do everything in my power to carry out the goddess's will. I speak

here for my friend Corporal Hammerstone, as well as for myself."

"_The Ayuntamiento has betrayed her! Destroy it!_"

Hammerstone snapped to attention. "Request permission to

speak, Talus."

The slender black barrel of one buzz gun trembled and the gun

fired, its burst whistling five cubits above their heads and sending

screaming ricochets far down the tunnel.

"Maybe you better not," Auk whispered. He raised his voice,

"Scylla told us Patera Silk was trying to overthrow them, and

ordered us to help him. We will if we can. That's Chenille and me,

and his bird."

"_Tell the Juzgado!_"

"Right, she said to." Dace and Incus nodded.

A tongue of flame licked the talus's cheek. "_The tessera! Thetis!

To the subceltar..._" An interior explosion rocked it.

Needlessly, Auk shouted, "Get back!" As they fled down the

tunnel, fire veiled the great metal face.

"She's done fer now! She's goin' down!" Dace was slower even

than Auk, who tottered on legs weaker than he had known since

infancy.

A second muffled explosion, then silence except for the sibilation

of the flames. Hammerstone, who had been matching strides with

Auk, broke step to snatch up a slug gun. "This was a sleeper's," he

told Auk cheerfully. "See how shiny the receiver is? Probably never

been fired. I couldn't go back for mine 'cause I was supposed to

watch you. Mine's had about five thousand rounds through it." He

put the new slug gun to his shoulder and sighted down the barrel.

Oreb squawked, and Auk said, "Careful there! You might hit Jugs."

"Safety's on." Hammerstone lowered the gun. "You knew her

before, huh?"

Auk nodded and slowed his pace enough to allow Dace to catch

up. "Since spring, I guess it was."

"I had a girl myself once," Hammerstone told him. "She was a

housemaid, but you'd never have guessed it to look at her. Pretty as

a picture."

Auk nodded. "What happened?"

"I had to go on reserve. I went to sleep, and when I woke up I

wasn't stationed in the city any more. Maybe I should've gone

looking for Moly." He shrugged. "Only I figured by then she'd found

somebody else. Just about all of them had."

"You'll find somebody, too, if you want to," Auk assured him. He

paused to look back up the tunnel; the talus was still in view but

seemed remote, a dot of orange fire no larger than the closest light.

"You could be dead," he said. "Suppose Patera hadn't fixed you up?"

Hammerstone shook his head. "I can't ever pay him. I can't even

show how much I love him, really. We can't cry. You know about that?"

"Poor thing!" Oreb sounded shocked.

Auk told him, "You can't cry either, cully."

"Bird cry!"

"You meatheads are always talking about how good us chems

have it," Hammerstone continued. "Good means not being able to

eat, and duty seventy-four, maybe a hundred and twenty, hours at a

stretch. Good means sleeping so long the _Whorl_ changes, and you

got to learn new procedures for everything. Good means seven or

eight tinpots after every woman. You want to try it?"

"Shag, no!"

Dace caught Auk's arm. "Thanks for waitin' up."

Auk shook him off. "I can't go all that fast myself."

More cheerfully Hammerstone said, "I could carry you both, only

I'm not supposed to. Patera wouldn't like it."

Dace's grin revealed a dark gap from which two teeth were

missing. "Mama, don't put me on no boat!"

Auk chuckled.

"He means well," Hammerstone assured them. "He cares about

me. That's one reason I'd die for him."

Auk suppressed his first thought and substituted, "Don't you

think about your old knot any more? The other soldiers?"

"Sure I do. Only Patera comes first."

Auk nodded.

"You got to consider the whole setup. Our top commander ought

to be the calde. That's our general orders. Only there isn't one, and

that means all of us are stuck. Nobody's got the right to give an

order, only we do it 'cause we've got to, to keep the brigade

running. Sand's my sergeant, see?"

"Uh-huh."

"And Schist and Shale are privates in our squad. He tells me and I

tell them. Then they go sure, Corporal, whatever you say. Only

none of us feels right about it."

"Girl wait?" Oreb inquired. He had been eyeing Chenille's distant,

naked back.

"Sooner or later," Auk told him. "Snuff your jaw. This is interesting."

"Take just the other day," Hammerstone continued, "I was

watching a prisoner. A flap broke and I tried to handle it, and he got

away from me. If everything was right, I'd've lost my stripes over

that, see? Only it's not, so all I got was a chewing out from Sand and

double from the major. Why's that?" He leveled a pipe-sized finger

at Auk, who shook his head.

"I'll tell you. "Cause both of them know Sand wasn't authorized to

give anybody orders in the first place, and I could've told him

dee-dee if I'd wanted to."

"Dee-dee?" Oreb peered quizzically at Hammerstone.

"You want the straight screw? I felt pretty bad when it happened,

but it was a lot worse when I was talking to them. Not 'cause of

anything they said. I've heard all that till I could sing it. 'Cause they

didn't take my stripes. I never thought I'd say that, but that's what it

was. They could've done it, only they didn't 'cause they knew they

didn't have authority from the calde, and I kept thinking, you don't

have to tell me to wipe them off, I'll wipe them off myself. Only that

would just have made them feel worse."

"I never liked working for anybody but me," Auk told him.

"You got to have somebody outside. Or anyhow I do. You feeling

pretty good now?"

"Better'n I did."

"I been watching you, 'cause that's what Patera wants. And you

can't hardly walk. You hit your head when the talus bought it, and

we figured you were KIA. Patera sort of liked it at first. Only then,

not so much. His essential nobility of character coming out. Know

what I'm saying?"

Dace put in, "That big gal cryin an' yellin' at him."

"Yeah, that too. Look here--"

"Wait a minute," Auk told them. "Chenille. She cried?"

Dace chuckled. "I felt sorrier fer her than fer you."

"She wasn't even there when I woke up!"

"She run off. I was over talkin' ter that talus, but I seen her."

"She was around when I came to," Hammerstone told Auk. "She

had that launcher, only it was empty. There was another one, all

smashed up, where we were. Maybe she brought it, I don't know.

Anyhow, after I talked to Patera about you and a couple other

things, I showed her how to disarm the bad one's magazine and load

the SSMs in the good one."

Dice told Hammerstone, "She got her'n up the tunnel whilst the

augur was fixin' you. This big feller, he was off watch, and didn't

nobody know rightly how bad he'd got hurt. When she come back

an' seen he wasn't comin' 'round, she foundered."

Auk scratched his ear.

"You've broke your head-bone, big feller, don't let nobody tell

you no different. I seen it afore. Feller on my boat got a rap from

the boom. He laid in the cuddy couple nights 'fore we could fetch

him ashore. He'd open the point an' talk, then sheer off down

weather. We fetched him the doctor an' I guess he done all he was

able but that feller died next day. You're in luck you wasn't hit no

worse."

"What makes it good luck?" Hammerstone asked him.

"Why, stands ter reason, don't it? He don't want ter be dead, no

more'n me!"

"All you meatheads talk like that. Only look at it. No more

trouble and no more work. No more patrols through these tunnels

looking everywhere for nothing and lucky to get a shot at a god. No

more--"

"Shot god?" Oreb inquired.

"Yeah," Auk said. "What the shag are you talking about?"

"That's just what we call them," Hammerstone explained.

"They're really animals. Kind of like a dog, only ugly where a real

dog's all right, so we say it backwards."

"I've never seen any kind of shaggy animal down here."

"You haven't been down here long, either. You just think you

have. There's bats and big blindworms, out under the lake especially.

There's gods all around here, only there's five of us and me a

soldier, and quite a few lights on this stretch. When we get to

someplace darker, watch out."

"You don't mind dyin'," Dace reminded him. "That's what you

says a little back."

"Now I do." Hammerstone pointed up the tunnel to Incus, a

hundred cubits ahead. "That's what I was trying to tell you. Auk said

he didn't need an outfit or a leader like Patera, or anything like that."

"I don't," Auk declared. "It's the shaggy truth."

"Then sit down right here. Go to sleep. Dace and me will keep

going. You feel pretty sick, I can tell. You don't like walking. Well,

there's no reason you've got to. I'll wait till we're about to lose sight

of you, then I'll put a couple slugs in you."

"No shoot!" Oreb protested.

"I'll wait till you've settled down, see? You won't know it's

coming. You'll get to thinking I'm not going to. What do you say?"

"No thanks."

"All right, here's what I been trying to get across. It doesn't

sound that good to you. If I kept on about it, you'd say you had to

take care of your girl, even when you're hurt so bad you can't

hardly take care of yourself. Or maybe look out for your talking

bird or something. Only it'd all be gas, 'cause you really don't

want to, even when you know it makes more sense than what

you're doing."

Sick and weak, Auk shrugged. "If you say so."

"It's not like that for us. Just sitting down somewhere down here

and letting everything slow down till I go to sleep, and sleeping, with

nobody ever coming by to wake me up, that sounds pretty good. It

would sound all right to my sergeant, too, or the major. The reason

we don't is we're supposed to look out for Viron. That means the

calde, 'cause he's the one that says what's good for Viron and what's

not."

"Silk's supposed to be the new calde," Auk remarked. "I know

him, and that's what Scylla said."

Hammerstone nodded. "That'll be great if it happens, but it hasn't

happened yet and maybe it never will. Only I've got Patera now,

see? Right now I can walk in back of him like this and keep looking

at him just about all the time, and he isn't even telling me not to

look like he did at first. So I don't want to sit down and die any more

than you do."

Oreb bobbed his approval. "Good! Good!"

Farther along the tunnel, Incus asked with some asperity, "Are you

_sure_ that's all, my daughter?"

"That's everything since Patera Silk shrived me, like I said,"

Chenille declared, "everything that I remember, anyhow." Apologetically

she added, "That was Sphixday, so there wasn't time for a lot, and you

said things I did when I was Kypris or Scylla don't count."

"Nor _do_ they. The gods _can_ do no evil. At least, not on _our_ level."

Incus cleared his throat and made sure that he was holding his

prayer beads correctly. "That being the case, I bring to you, my

daughter, the pardon of all the gods. In the name of _Lord Pas_, you

are forgiven. In the name of _Divine Echidna_, you are forgiven. In

the _glorious ever-efficacious_ name of _Sparkling Scylla, loveliest_ of

goddesses and _firstborn of the Seven and ineffable patroness_ of _this_,

our--"

"I'm not her any more, Patera. That's lily."

Incus, who had been seized by a sudden, though erroneous,

presentiment, relaxed. "You are forgiven. In the name of _Molpe_,

you are forgiven. In the name of _Tartaros_, you are forgiven. In the

name of _Hierax_, you are forgiven."

He took a deep breath. "In the name of _Thelxiepeia_, you are

forgiven. In the name of _Phaea_, you are forgiven. In the name of

_Sphigx_, you are forgiven. And in the name of _all lesser gods_,

you are forgiven. Kneel now, my daughter. I must trace the sign of addition

over your head."

"I'd sooner Auk didn't see. Couldn't you just--"

"_Kneel!_" Incus told her severely, and by way of merited discipline

added, "_Bow_ your head!" She did, and he swung his beads forward

and back, then from side to side.

"I hope he didn't see me," Chenille whispered as she got to her

feet, "I don't think he's jump for religion."

"I dare say _not_." Incus thrust his beads back into his pocket. "While

you _are_, my daughter? If that's so, you've deceived me most

completely."

"I thought I'd better, Patera. Get you to shrive me, I mean. We

could've been killed back there when our talus fought the soldiers.

Auk just about was, and the soldiers could have killed us afterwards.

I don't think they knew we were on his back, and when he

caught fire they were afraid he'd blow up, maybe. If they'd been

right, we'd have got killed by that."

"They will return for their _dead_, eventually. I must say the

prospect _concerns_ me. What if we _encounter_ them?"

"Yeah. We're supposed to get rid of the councillors?"

Incus nodded. "So _you_, possessed by Scylla, instructed us, my

daughter. We are to displace _His Cognizance_ as well." Incus permitted

himself a smile, or perhaps could not resist it. "I am to have the office."

"You know what happens to people that go up against the

Ayuntamiento, Patera? They get killed or thrown in the pits. All of

them I ever heard of."

Incus nodded gloomily.

"So I thought I'd better get you to do it. Shrive me. I've got a day

left, maybe. That's not a whole lot of time."

"Women, and _augurs_, are usually spared the ignominy of execution,

my daughter."

"When they go up against the Ayuntamiento? I don't think so.

Anyhow, I'd be locked up in the Alambrera or tossed in a pit. They

eat the weak ones in the pits."

Incus, a full head shorter than she, looked up at her. "You've

_never_ struck me as _weak_, my daughter. And you _have_ struck me,

you know."

"I'm sorry, Patera. It wasn't personal, and anyhow you said it

doesn't count." She glanced over her shoulder at Auk, Dace, and

Hammerstone. "Maybe we'd better slow down, huh?"

"Gladly!" He had been hard put to keep up with her. "As I said,

my daughter, what you did to me is not to be accounted _evil. Scylla_

has every right to strike me, as a mother her child. Contrast that

with that man _Auk's_ behavior toward me. He seized me _bodily_ and

cast me into the lake."

"I don't remember that."

"_Scylla_ did not order it, my daughter. He acted upon his own _evil

impulse_, and were I to be asked to shrive him for it _again_, I am _far_

from confident I could bring myself to do so. Do you find him

attractive?"

"Auk? Sure."

"I confess _I_ thought him a fine specimen when I first saw him. His

features are _by no means_ handsome, yet his _muscular masculinity_ is

both real and impressive." Incus sighed. "One _dreams_...I mean _a

young woman_ such as yourself, my daughter, not infrequently

dreams of such a man. _Rough_, yet, one hopes, not entirely lacking

inner _sensitivity_. When the _actual object_ is encountered, however,

one is _invariably_ disappointed."

"He lumped me a couple of times while we were hoofing out to

that shrine. Did he tell you about that?"

"About visiting a _shrine?_" Incus's eyebrows shot up. "Auk and

yourself? No _indeed_."

"Lumping me, I meant. I thought maybe... Never mind. Once I

sat down on one of those white rocks, and he kicked me. Kicked my

leg, you know. I got pretty sore about that."

Incus shook his head, dismayed at Auk's brutality. "I should

imagine _so_, my daughter. I, for one, am disinclined to criticize you

for it."

"Only by-and-by I figured it out. See, Kypris had--you know,

what Scylla did. It was at Orpine's funeral. Orpine's a dell I used to

know." Transfering the launcher to her other hand, Chenille wiped

her eyes. "I still feel really bad about her. I always will."

"Your grief does you _credit_, my daughter."

"Now she's lying in a box in the ground, and I'm walking in this

one, only mine's a whole lot deeper. I wonder whether this is what

being dead seems like to her? Maybe it is."

"Her _spirit_ has doubtless united itself with the gods in Mainframe,"

Incus said kindly.

"Her spirit, sure, but what about her? What do you call this tunnel

stuff? They make houses out of it, sometimes.

"The ignorant say _shiprock_, the learned _navislapis_."

"A big shiprock box. That's what we're in, and we're just as

buried as Orpine. What I was going to say is Kypris never told Auk,

Patera. Not like Scylla. She told him right away, but he thought

Kypris was me, and he liked her a lot. He gave me this ring, see?

Then she talked to people in Limna and went in the manteion and

went away. Went clear out of me and left me all alone in front of the

Window. I was scared to death. I had some money and I kept buying

red ribbon--"

"Brandy, my daughter?"

"Yeah. Throwing it down, trying to pretend it was rust because it's

about the same color. It took a lot before I got over being scared,

and then I still was, a little, way back in my head and deep down in

my tripes. Then I saw Auk, this was still in Limna, so I hooked him

because I was out of gelt, and I was just some drunk, some old

drunk trull. So naturally he lumped me. He never did lump me as

hard as Bass did once, and I'm sorry I lumped you. Aren't the gods

supposed to care about us, Patera?"

"They _do_, my daughter."

"Well, Scylla didn't. She could've kept me out of the sun and kept

my clothes so I wouldn't get so burned. We got hot when I was

running for her and they got in our way, so she just tore them off

and threw them down. My best winter gown."

Incus cleared his throat. "I have been meaning to speak to you

about _that_, my daughter. Your _nudity_. Perhaps I ought to have

done so when I shrove you. I foresaw, however, that you might

misunderstand. I, _myself_, am sunburned, and nudity _is_ wrong,

you know."

"It gets bucks hot. Mine does, I mean, or Violet. I saw a buck

practically jump the wall once when Violet took off her gown, and

she wasn't really naked, either. She had on one of those real good

bandeaus that hike up your tits when they look like they're just

shoving them back."

"_Nudity_, my daughter," Incus continued gamely, "is wrong not

only because it engenders concupiscent thoughts in weak men, but because it

is _often_ the occasion of _violent_ attacks. Concupiscent thoughts

are wrong in themselves, as I suggested, though they are not _seriously_

evil. Violent _attacks_, on the other hand, _are_ seriously evil.

In the matter of concupiscent thoughts, the fault lies with you when by

_intentional_ nudity you give rise to them. In that of _violent

attacks_, the fault lies with the _attacker_. He is obliged to _restrain_

himself, no matter _how severe_ a provocation is offered him. But I

ask you to consider, my daughter, whether you wish _any_ human spirit to

be rejected by the immortal gods."

"Getting beat over the head the way they do," Chenille said

positively, "that's the part I'd really hate."

Incus nodded, gratified. "There is _that_, as well. You must consider

that the _men_ most inclined to these attacks are _by no means_ the most

noble of my sex. To the _contrary!_ You might actually be _killed_.

Women frequently _are_."

"I guess you're right, Patera."

"Oh, I _am_, my daughter. You may _rely_ upon it. In our present

company, your nudity does _little_ harm, I would say. _I_, at least, am

_proof_ against it. So is the soldier whose life I, by the grace and aid of

_Fairest Phaea_, contrived to save. The captain of our boat--"

"Dace."

"Yes, _Dace_. Dace is _also_ proof against it, or _nearly_ so, I would

imagine, by virtue of his advanced age. _Auk_, of whom I had

entertained the gravest fears for your sake has _now_, by the

intercession of _Divine Echidna_, who ever strives to safeguard the

chastity of your sex as well as _my own_, been so severely injured that

he is _most unlikely_ to attack you or--"

"Auk? He wouldn't have to."

Incus cleared his throat again. "I forbear to dispute the matter, my

daughter. Your reason or mine, though I _greatly_ prefer _my own_. But

consider this, _also_. We are to enter the _Juzgado_, using the tessera

the talus supplied. Once there--"

"Is that what we're supposed to do when we get back? I guess it is,

but I haven't been thinking about it, just about getting Auk to a

doctor and all that. I know a good one. And sitting down and getting

somebody nice to wash my feet, and some powder and rouge and

some decent perfume, and drinks and something to eat. Aren't you

hungry, Patera? I'm starving."

"I am not _wholly_ unaccustomed to fasting, my daughter. To

_revert_ to our topic, we are to enter the Juzgado, or so that _talus_

informed us as the claws of Hierax closed upon him. His

instructions were _Scylla's_, he said, and I credit him. He told us

the Ayuntamiento must be _destroyed_, as Scylla _herself_ did upon

that _unforgettable_ occasion when she announced that she has

chosen _me_ her Prolocutor. The _talus_ indicated that we were to

announce her decision to the commissioners, and provided a

_tessera_ by which we are to _penetrate_ the subcellar for that

purpose. I must confess _I_ had not known that such a subcellar

existed, but presumably it does. _Consider_ then, my daughter, that

you will soon--"

"Thetis, that was it, wasn't it? I wondered what he meant when he

said that. Does it work like a key? I've heard there are doors like

that."

"_Ancient_ doors," Incus informed her. "Doors constructed by _Great

Pas_ at the time he built the whorl. The _Prolocutor's Palace_ has such

a door. Its tessera is known to me, though I may not reveal it."

"Thetis sounds like a god's name. Is it? I don't really know very

much about any of the gods except the Nine. And the Outsider.

Patera Silk told me a little about him."

"It is _indeed_." Incus glowed with satisfaction. "In the _Writings_, my

daughter, the mechanism by which we augurs are chosen is

described in _beautiful_ though _picturesque_ terms. It is there said..."

He paused. "I regret that I cannot _quote_ the passage. I must

paraphrase it, I'm afraid. But it is written there that _each_ new year

Pas brings is like a _fleet_. You are familiar with boats, my daughter.

You were upon that _wretched_ little fishing boat with _me_, after all."

"Sure."

"Each year, as I have indicated, is likened to a fleet of boats that

are its days, _gallant_ craft loaded with the _young men_ of that year.

Each of these day-boats is _obliged_ to pass _Scylla_ on its voyage to

_infinity_. Some sail very near to her, while others remain at a greater

_distance_, their youthful crews crowding the side _most distant_ from

her loving embrace. None of which _signifies_. From each of these

boats, she selects the young men who most _please_ her."

"I don't see--"

"_But_," Incus continued impressively, "how is it that these _boats_

pass her at all? Why do they not remain safe in harbor? Or sail

_someplace else?_ It is because there is a minor goddess whose

function it is to direct them to her. _Thetis_ is that goddess, and thus a

most suitable _tessera_ for us. A _key_, as you said. A _ticket_ or _inscribed

tile_ that will admit _us_ to the Juzgado, and incidentally _release_ us from

the cold and dark of these _horrid_ tunnels."

"You think we might be close to the Juzgado now, Patera?"

Incus shook his head. "I do not know, my daughter. We traveled

_some distance_ on that _unfortunate_ talus, and he went

_very_ fast. I dare _hope_ we are beneath the city now."

"I doubt if we're much past Limna," Chenille told him.

Auk's head ached. Sometimes it seemed to him that a wedge had

been pounded into it, sometimes it felt more like a spike; in either

case, it hurt so much at times that he could think of nothing else,

forcing himself to take one step forward like an automaton, one

more weary step in a progression of weary steps that would never be

over. When the ache subsided, as it did now and then, he became

aware that he was as sick as he had ever been in his life and might

vomit at any moment.

Hammerstone stalked beside him, his big, rubber-shod feet

making less noise than Auk's boots as they padded over the damp

shiprock of the tunnel floor. Hammerstone had his needler, and

when the pain in his head subsided, Auk schemed to recover it,

illusory schemes that were more like nightmares. He would push

Hammerstone from a cliff into the lake, snatching his needler as

Hammerstone fell, trip him as they scaled a roof, break into

Hammerstone's house, find him asleep, and take his needler from

Hammerstone's strong room... Hammerstone falling headlong,

somersaulting, rolling down the roof as he, Auk, fired needle after

needle at him, viscous black fluid spurting from every wound to

paint the snowy sheets and turn the water of the lake to black blood

in which they drowned.

No, Incus had his needler, had it under his black robe; but

Hammerstone had a slug gun, and even soldiers could be killed with

slugs, which could and often did penetrate the mud-brick walls of

houses, the thick bodies of horses and oxen as well as men, slugs

that left horrible wounds.

Oreb fluttered on his shoulders, climbing with talon and crimson

beak from one to the other. Peering though his ears Oreb glimpsed

his thoughts; but Oreb could not know, no more than he himself

knew, what those thoughts portended. Oreb was only a bird, and

Incus could not take him from him, no more than his hanger, no

more than his knife.

Dace had a knife as well. Under his tunic Dace had the old

thick-bladed spear-pointed knife he had used to gut and fillet the

fish they had caught from his boat, the knife that had worked so

quickly, so surely, though it looked so unsuited to its task. Dace was

not an old man at all, but a flunky and a toady to that old knife, a

thing that carried it as Dace's old boat had carried them all when

there was nothing inside it to make it go, carrying them as they

might have been carried by a child's toy, toys that can shoot or fly

because they are the right shape though hollow and empty as Dace's

boat, as crank as the boat or solid as a potato; but Bustard would see

to Dace.

His brother Bustard had taken his sling because he had slung

stones at cats with it, and had refused to give it back. Nothing about

Bustard had ever been fair, not his being born first though his name

began with _B_ and Auk's with _A_, not his dying first either. Bustard

had cheated to the end and past the end, cheating Auk as he always

did and cheating himself of himself. That was the way life was, the

way death was. A man lived as long as you hated him and died on

you as soon as you began to like him. No one but Bustard had been

able to hurt him when Bustard was around; it was a privilege that

Bustard reserved for himself, and Bustard was back and carrying

him, carrying him in his arms again, though he had forgotten that

Bastard had ever carried him. Bustard was only three years older,

four in winter. Had Bustard himself been the mother that he,

Bustard, professed to remember, that he, Auk, could not? Never

could, never quite, Bustard with this big black bird bobbing on his

head like a bird upon a woman's hat, its eyes jet beads, twitching

and bobbing with every movement of his head, a stuffed bird

mocking life and cheating death.

Bustards were birds, but bustards could fly--that was the Lily

truth, for Bustard's mother had been Auk's mother had been Lily

whose name had meant truth, Lily who had in truth flown away with

Hierax and left them both; therefore he never prayed to Hierax, to

Death or the God of Death, or anyhow very seldom and never in his

heart, though Dace had said that he belonged to Hierax and

therefore Hierax had snatched Bustard, the brother who had been a

father to him, who had cheated him of his sling and of nothing else

that he could remember.

"How you feelin', big feller?"

"Fine. I'm fine," he told Dace. And then, "I'm afraid I'm going to

puke."

"Figure you might walk some?"

"It's all right, I'll carry him," Bustard declared, and by the timbre

of his harsh baritone revealed Hammerstone the soldier. "Patera

said I could."

"I don't want to get it on your clothes," Auk said, and Hammerstone

laughed, his big metal body shaking hardly at all, the slug gun

slung behind his shoulder rattling just a little against his metal back.

"Where's Jugs?"

"Up there. Up ahead with Patera."

Auk raised his head and tried to see, but saw only a flash of fire, a

thread of red fire through the green distance, and the flare of the

exploding rocket.

The white bull fell, scarlet arterial blood spilling from its immaculate

neck to spatter its gilded hooves. Now, Silk thought, watching

the garlands of hothouse orchids slide from the gold leaf that

covered its horns.

He knelt beside its fallen head. Now if at all.

She came with the thought. The point of his knife had begun the

first cut around the bull's right eye when his own glimpsed the Holy

Hues in the Sacred Window: vivid tawny yellow iridescent with

scales, now azure, now dove gray, now rose and red and thunderous

black. And words, words that at first he could not quite distinguish,

words in a voice that might almost have been a crone's, had it been

less resonant, less vibrant, less young.

"Hear me. You who are pure."

He had assumed that if any god favored them it would be Kypris.

This goddess's unfamiliar features overfilled the Window, her

burning eyes just below its top, her meager lower lip disappearing

into its base when she spoke.

"Whose city is this, augur?" There was a rustle as all who heard her

knelt.

Already on his knees beside the bull, Silk contrived to bow. "Your

eldest daughter's, Great Queen." The serpents around her face--thicker

than a man's wrist but scarcely larger than hairs in proportion

to her mouth, nose, and eyes, and pallid, hollow cheeks--identified

her at once. "Viron is Scalding Scylla's city."

"Remember, all of you. You most of all, Prolocutor."

Silk was so startled that he nearly turned his head. Was it possible

that the Prolocutor was in fact here, somewhere in this crowd of

thousands?

"I have watched you," Echidna said. "I have listened."

Even the few remaining animals were silent.

"This city must remain my daughter's. Such was the will of her

father. I speak everywhere for him. Such is my will. Your remaining

sacrifices must be for her. For no one else. Disobedience invites

destruction."

Silk bowed again. "It shall be as you have said, Great Queen."

Momentarily he felt that he was not so much honoring a deity as

surrendering to the threat of force; but there was no time to analyze

the feeling.

"There is one here fit to lead. She shall be your leader. Let her

step forth."

Echidna's eyes, hard and black as opals, had fastened on Maytera

Mint. She rose and walked with small, almost mincing steps toward

the awful presence in the Window, her head bowed. When she

stood beside Silk, that head was scarcely higher than his own,

though he was on his knees.

"You long for a sword."

If Maytera Mint nodded, her nod was too slight to be seen.

"You are a sword. Mine. Scylla's. You are the sword of the Eight

Great Gods."

Of the thousands present, it was doubtful if five hundred had

been able to hear most of what Maytera Marble, or Patera Gulo, or

Silk himself had said; but everyone--from men so near the canted

altar that their trouser legs were speckled with blood, to children

held up by mothers themselves scarcely taller than children--could

hear the goddess, could hear the peal of her voice and to a limited

degree understand her, Great Echidna, the Queen of the Gods, the

highest and most proximal representative of Twice-Headed Pas. As

she spoke they stirred like a wheatfield that feels the coming storm.

"The allegiance of this city must be restored. Those who have

suborned it must be cast out. This ruling council. Kill them. Restore

my daughter's Charter. The strongest place in the city. The prison

you call the Alambrera. Pull it down."

Maytera Mint knelt, and again the silver trumpet sounded. "I will,

Great Queen!" Silk could hardly believe that it had emanated from

the small, shy sibyl he had known.

At her reply the theophany was complete. The white bull lay dead

beside him, one ear touching his hand; the Window was empty

again, though Sun Street was still filled with kneeling worshippers,

their faces blank or dazed or ecstatic. Far away--so distant that he,

standing, could not see her--a woman screamed in an agony of rapture.

He raised his hands as he had when he had stood upon the

floater's deck. "People of Viron!"

Half, perhaps, showed some sign of having heard.

"We have been honored by the Queen of the Whorl! Echidna

herself--"

The words he had planned died in his throat as a searing

incandescence smashed down upon the city like a ruinous wall. His

shadow, blurred and diffused as shadows had always been under the

beneficent radiance of the long sun, solidified to a pitch-black

silhouette as sharp as one cut from paper.

He blinked and staggered beneath the weight of the white-hot

glare; and when he opened his eyes again, it was no more. The dying

fig (whose upper branches could be seen above the garden wall) was

on fire, its dry leaves snapping and crackling and sending up a

column of sooty smoke.

A gust fanned the flames, twisting and dissolving their smoke

column. Nothing else seemed to have changed. A brutal-looking

man, still on his knees by the casket before the altar, inquired,

"W-was that more word from the gods, Patera?"

Silk took a deep breath. "Yes, it was. That was word from a god

who is not Echidna, and I understand him."

Maytera Mint sprang to her feet--and with her a hundred or

more; Silk recognized Gayfeather, Cavy, Quill, Aloe, Zoril, Horn

and Nettle, Holly, Hart, Oont, Aster, Macaque, and scores of

others. The silver trumpet that Maytera Mint's voice had become

summoned all to battle. "Echidna has spoken! We have felt the

wrath of Pas! To the Alambrera!"

The congregation became a mob.

Everyone was standing now, and it seemed that everyone was

talking and shouting. The floater's engine roared. Guardsmen,

some mounted, most on foot, called, "To me, everyone!" "To me!"

"To the Alambrera!" One fired his slug gun into the air.

Silk looked for Gulo, intending to send him to put out the burning

tree; he was already some distance away, at the head of a hundred

or more. Others led the white stallion to Maytera Mint; a man

bowed with clasped hands, and she sprang onto its back in a way

Silk would not have thought possible. It reared, pawing the wind, at

the touch of her heels.

And he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. "Maytera! _Maytera!_"

Shifting the sacrificial knife to his left hand and forsaking the dignity

augurs were expected to exhibit, he ran to her, his black robe

billowing in the wind. "Take this!"

Silver, spring-green, and blood-red, the azoth Crane had given

him flashed through the air as he flung it over the heads of the mob.

The throw was high and two cubits to her left--yet she caught it, as

he had somehow known she would.

"Press the bloodstone," he shouted, "when you want the blade!"

A moment later that endless aching blade tore reality as it swept

the sky. She called, "Join us, Patera! As soon as you've completed

the sacrifices!"

He nodded, and forced himself to smile.

The right eye first. It seemed to Silk that a lifetime had passed

between the moment he had first knelt to extract the eye from its

socket and the moment that he laid it in the fire, murmuring Scylla's

short litany. By the time he had completed it, the congregation had

dwindled to a few old men and a gaggle of small children watched by

elderly women, perhaps a hundred persons in all.

In a low and toneless voice, Maytera Marble announced, "The

tongue for Echidna. Echidna has spoken to us."

Echidna herself had indicated that the remaining victims were to

be Scylla's, but Silk complied. "Behold us, Great Echidna, Mother

of the Gods, Incomparable Echidna, Queen of this Whorl--" (Were

there others, where Echidna was not Queen? All that he had

learned in the schola argued against it, yet he had altered her

conventional compliment because he felt that it might be so.)

"Nurture us, Echidna. By fire set us free."

The bull's head was so heavy that he could lift it only with

difficulty; he had expected Maytera Marble to help, but she did not.

Vaguely he wondered whether the gold leaf on the horns would

merely melt, or be destroyed by the flames in some way. It did not

seem likely, and he made a mental note to make certain it was

salvaged; thin though gold leaf was, it would be worth something. A

few days before, he had been planning to have Horn and some of

the others repaint the front of the palaestra, and that would mean

buying paint and brushes.

Now Horn, the captain, and the toughs and decent family men of

the quarter were assaulting the Alambrera with Maytera Mint,

together with boys whose beards had not yet sprouted, girls no

older, and young mothers who had never held a weapon; but if they

lived...

He amended the thought to: if some lived.

"Behold us, lovely Scylla, wonderful of waters, behold our love

and our need for thee. Cleanse us, O Scylla. By fire set us free."

Every god claimed that final line, even Tartaros, the god of

night, and Scylla, the goddess of water. While he heaved the

bull's head onto the altar and positioned it securely, he reflected

that "by fire set us free" must once have belonged to Pas alone. Or

perhaps to Kypris--love was a fire, and Kypris had possessed

Chenille, whose hair was dyed flaming red. What of the fires that

dotted the skylands beneath the barren stone plain that was the

belly of the Whorl?

Maytera Marble, who should have heaped fresh cedar around the

bull's head, did not. He did it himself, using as much as they would

have used in a week before Kypris came.

The right front hoof. The left. The right rear and the left, this last

freed only after a struggle. Doubtfully, he fingered the edges of his

blade; they were still very sharp.

Not to read a victim as large as the bull would have been

unthinkable, even after a theophany; he opened the great paunch

and studied the entrails. "War, tyranny, and terrible fires." He

pitched his voice as low as he dared, hoping that the old people

would be unable to hear him. "It's possible I'm wrong I hope so.

Echidna has just spoken to us directly, and surely she would have

warned us if such calamities awaited us." In a corner of his mind,

Doctor Crane's ghost snickered. _Letters from the gods in the guts of

a dead bull, Silk? You're getting in touch with your own subconscious,

that's all_.

"More than possible that I'm wrong--that I'm reading my own

fears into this splendid victim." Silk elevated his voice. "Let me

repeat that Echidna said nothing of the sort." Rather too late he

realized that he had yet to transmit her precise words to the

congregation. He did so, interspersing every fact he could recall

about her place at Pas's side and her vital role in superintending

chastity and fertility. "So you see that Great Echidna simply urged

us to free our city. Since those who have left to fight have gone at

her behest, we may confidently expect them to triumph."

He dedicated the heart and liver to Scylla.

A young man had joined the children, the old women, and the old

men. There was something familiar about him, although Silk,

nearsightedly peering at his bowed head, was unable to place him.

A small man, his primrose silk tunic gorgeous with gold thread, his

black curls gleaming in the sunshine.

The bull's heart sizzled and hissed, then burst loudly--fulminated

was the euchologic term--projecting a shower of sparks. It was a

sign of civil unrest, but a sign that came too late; riot had become

revolution, and it seemed entirely possible that the first to fall in this

revolution had fallen already.

Indeed, laughing Doctor Crane had fallen already, and the

solemn young trooper. This morning (only this morning!) he had

presumed to tell the captain that nonviolent means could be

employed to oust the Ayuntamiento. He had envisioned refusals to

pay taxes and refusals to work, possibly the Civil Guard arresting

and detaining officials who remained obedient to the four remaining

councillors. Instead he had helped unleash a whirlwind; he

reminded himself gloomily that the whirlwind was the oldest of Pas's

symbols, and strove to forget that Echidna had spoken of "the Eight

Great Gods."

With a last skillful cut he freed the final flap of hide from the

bull's haunch; he tossed it into the center of the altar fire. "The

benevolent gods invite us to join in their feast. Freely, they return to

us the food we offer them, having made it holy. I take it that the

giver is no longer present? In that case, all those who honor the gods

may come forward."

The young man in the primrose tunic started toward the bull's

carcass; an old woman caught his sleeve, hissing, "Let the children

go first!" Silk reflected that the young man had probably not

attended sacrifice since he had been a child himself.

For each, he carved a slice of raw bull-beef, presenting it on the

point of the sacrificial knife--the only meat many of these children

would taste for some time, although all that remained would be

cooked tomorrow for the fortunate pupils at the palaestra.

If there was a tomorrow for the palaestra and its pupils.

The last child was a small girl. Suddenly bold, Silk cut her a piece

substantially thicker than the rest. If Kypris had chosen to possess

Chenille because of her fiery hair, why had she chosen Maytera

Mint as well, as she had confided to him beneath the arbor before

they went to Limna? Had Maytera Mint loved? His mind rejected

the notion, and yet... Had Chenille, who had stabbed Orpine in a

nimiety of terror, loved something beyond herself? Or did self-love

please Kypris as much as any other son? She had told Orchid flatly

that it did not.

He gave the first old woman an even larger slice. These women,

then the old men, then the lone young man, and finally, to Maytera

Marble (the only sibyl present) whatever remained for the palaestra

and the cenoby's kitchen. Where was Maytera Rose this morning?

The first old man mumbled thanks, thanking him and not the

gods; he remembered then that others had done the same thing at

Orpine's final rites, and resolved to talk to the congregation about

that next Scylsday, if he remained free to talk.

Here was the last old man already. Silk cut him a thick slice, then

glanced past him and the young man behind him to Maytera

Marble, thinking she might disapprove--and abruptly recognized

the young man.

For a moment that seemed very long, he was unable to move.

Others were moving, but their motions seemed as labored as the

struggles of so many flies in honey. Slowly, Maytera Marble inched

toward him, her face back-tilted in a delicate smile; evidently she

felt as he did: palaestra tomorrow was worse than problematical.

Slowly, the last old man bobbed his head and turned away, gums

bared in a toothless grin. Ardently, Silk's right hand longed to enter

his trousers pocket, where the gold-plated needler Doctor Crane

had given Hyacinth awaited it; but it would have to divest itself of

the sacrificial knife first, and that would take weeks if not years.

The flash of oiled metal as Musk drew his needler blended with

the duller gleam of Maytera Marble's wrists. The report was

drowned by the screech of a wobbling needle, unbalanced by its

passage through the sleeve of Silk's robe.

Maytera Marble's arms locked around Musk. Silk slashed at the

hand that grasped the needler. The needler fell, and Musk shrieked.

The old women were hurrying away (they would call it running),

some herding children. A small boy dashed past Silk and darted

around the casket, reappearing with Musk's needler precariously

clutched in both hands and ridiculously trained upon Musk himself.

Two insights came to Silk simultaneously. The first was that Villus

might easily fire by accident, killing Musk. The second, that he,

Silk, did not care.

Musk's thumb dangled on a rag of flesh, and blood from his hand

mingled with the white bull's. Still trying to comprehend the

situation, Silk asked, "He sent you to do this, didn't he?" He

pictured the flushed, perspiring face of Musk's employer vividly,

although at that moment he could not recall his name.

Musk spat thick, yellow phlegm that clung to Silk's robe as

Maytera Marble wrestled him toward the altar. Horribly, she bent

him over the flames. Musk spat again, this time into her face, and

struggled with such desperate strength that she was lifted off her feet.

Villus asked, "Should I shoot him, Maytera?" When she did not

answer, Silk shook his head.

"This fine and living man," she pronounced slowly, "is presented to

me, to Divine Echidna." Her hands, the bony blue-veined hands of a

elderly bio, glowed crimson in the flames. "Mother of the Gods.

Incomparable Echidna, Queen of the _Whorl_. Fair Echidna! Smile

upon us. Send us beasts for the chase. Great Echidna! Put forth thy

green grass for our kine..."

Musk moaned. His tunic was smoking; his eyes seemed ready to

start from their sockets.

An old woman tittered.

Surprised, Silk looked for her and from her death's-head grin

knew who watched through her eyes. "Go home, Mucor."

The old woman tittered again.

"Divine Echidna!" Maytera Marble concluded. "By fire set us free."

"Release him, Echidna," Silk snapped.

Musk's silk tunic was burning; so were Maytera Marble's sleeves.

"Release him!"

The perverse self-forged discipline of the Orilla broke at last;

Musk screamed and continued to scream, each pause and gasp

followed by a scream weaker and more terrible. To Silk, tugging

futilely at Maytera Marble's relentless arms, those screams seemed

the creakings of the wings of death, of the black wings of High

Hierax as he flapped down the whorl from Mainframe at the East

Pole.

Musk's needler spoke twice, so rapidly it seemed almost to

stammer. Its needles scarred Maytera Marble's cheek and chin, and

fled whimpering into the sky.

"Don't," Silk told Villus. "You might hit me. It won't do any good."

Villus started, then stared down in astonishment at the dusty

black viper that had fastened upon his ankle.

"Don't run," Silk told him, and turned to come to his aid,

thereby saving himself. A larger viper pushed its blunt head from

Maytera Marble's collar to strike at his neck, missing by two

fingers' width.

He jerked the first viper off Villus's ankle and flung it to one side,

crouching to mark the punctures made by its fangs with the sign of

addition, executed in shallow incisions with the point of the

sacrificial knife. "Lie down and stay quiet," he told Villus. When

Villus did, he applied his lips to the bleeding crosses.

Musk's screams ceased, and Maytera Marble faced them, her

blazing habit slipping from her narrow shoulders; in each hand she

brandished a viper. "I have summoned these children to me from the

alleys and gardens of this treacherous city. Do you not know who I am?"

The familiarity of her voice left Silk feeling that he had gone mad.

He spat a mouthful of blood.

"The boy is mine. I claim him. Give him to me."

Silk spat a second time and picked up Villus, cradling him in his

arms. "None but the most flawless may be offered to the gods. This

boy has been bitten by a poisonous snake and so is clearly

unsuitable."

Twice Maytera Marble waved a viper before her face as if

whisking away a fly. "Are you to judge that? Or am I?" Her burning

habit fell to her feet.

Silk held out Villus. "Tell me why Pas is angry with us, O Great Echidna."

She reached for him, saw the viper she held as if for the first time,

and raised it again. "Pas is dead and you a fool. Give me Auk."

"This boy's name is Villus," Silk told her. "Auk was a boy like this

about twenty years ago, I suppose." When she said nothing more, he

added, "I knew you gods could possess bios like us. I didn't know

you could possess chems as well."

Echidna whisked the writhing viper before her face. "They are

easier what mean these numbers? Why should we let you...? My

husband..."

"Did Pas possess someone who died?"

Her head swiveled toward the Sacred Window. "The prime

calcula... His citadel."

"Get away from that fire," Silk told her, but it was too late. Her

knees would no longer support her; she crumpled onto her burning

habit, seeming to shrink as she fell.

He laid Villus down and drew Hyacinth's needler. His first shot

took a viper behind the head, and he congratulated himself; but the

other escaped, lost in the scorching yellow dust of Sun Street.

"You're to forget everything you just overheard," he told Villus as

he dropped Hyacinth's needler back into his pocket.

"I didn't understand anyway, Patera." Villus was sitting up, hands

tight around his bitten leg.

"That's well." Silk pulled her burning habit from under Maytera

Marble.

The old woman tittered. "I could kill you, Silk." She was holding

the needler that had been Musk's much as Villus had, and aiming it

at Silk's chest. "There's councillors at our house now. They'd like that."

The toothless old man slapped the needler from her hand with his

dripping slab of raw beef, saying sharply, "Don't, Mucor!" He put his

foot on the needler.

As Silk stared, he fished a gammadion blazing with gems from

beneath his threadbare brown tunic. "I ought to have made my

presence known earlier, Patera, but I'd hoped to do it in private.

I'm an augur too, as you see. I'm Patera Quetzal."

Auk stopped and looked back at the last of the bleared green lights.

It was like leaving the city, he thought. You hated it--hated its nasty

ugly ways, its noise and smoke and most of all its shaggy shitty itch

for gelt, gelt for this and gelt for that until a man couldn't fart

without paying. But when you rode away from it with the dark

closing in on you and skylands you never noticed much in the city

sort of floating around up there, you missed it right away and pulled

up to look back at it from just about any place you could. All those

tiny lights so far away, looking just like the lowest skylands after the

market closed, over where it was night already.

From the black darkness ahead, Dace called, "You comin'?"

"Yeah. Don't get the wind up, old man."

He still held the arrow someone had shot at Chenille; its shaft was

bone, not wood. A couple long strips of bone, Auk decided,

running his fingers along it for the tenth or twelfth time, scarfed and

glued together, most likely strips from the shin bone of a big animal

or maybe even a big man. The nock end was fletched with feathers

of bone, but the wicked barbed point was hammered metal.

Country people hunted with arrows and bows, he had heard, and

you saw arrows in the market. But not arrows like this.

He snapped it between his hands and let the pieces fall, then

hurried down the tunnel after Dace. "Where's Jugs?"

"Up front ag'in with the sojer." Dace sounded as though he was

still some distance ahead.

"Well, by Hierax! They almost got her the first time."

"They very nearly killed _me_." Incus's voice floated back through

the darkness. "Have you forgotten _that?_"

"No," Auk told him, "only it don't bother me as much."

"No care," Oreb confirmed from Auk's shoulder.

Incus giggled. "Nor do _you_ bother _me_, Auk. When I sent Corporal

Hammerstone ahead of us, my _first_ thought was that you would

have to accompany him. Then I realized that there was no harm in

_your_ lagging behind. Hammerstone's task is not to _nurse you_, but to

protect _me_ from your _brutal_ treatment."

"And thresh me out whenever you decide I need it."

"Indeed. Oh, _indeed_. But _mercy_ and _forbearance_ are much dearer

to the _immortal gods_ than sacrifice, Auk. If you wish to stay where

you are, _I_ will not seek to prevent you. Neither will my tall friend,

who is, as we have seen, so much stronger than _yourself_."

"Chenille ain't stronger than me, not even now. I doubt she's

much stronger than you."

"But she possesses the best _weapon_. She insisted for _that_ reason.

For my own part, _I_ was glad to have her _and_ her weapon near the

_redoubtable_ corporal, and remote from _yourself_."

Auk kicked himself mentally for having failed to realize that the

launcher Chenille carried would flatten Hammerstone as effectively

as any slug gun. Bitterly he mumbled, "Always thinking, ain't you."

"You refuse to call me _Patera_, Auk? Even _now_, you refuse me my

title of respect?"

Auk felt weak and dizzy, afraid for Chenille and even for himself;

but he managed to say, "It's supposed to mean you're my father, like

Maytera meant this teacher I used to have was my mother. Anytime

you start acting like a father, I'll call you that."

Incus giggled again. "We _fathers_ are expected to curb the violent

behavior of our offspring, and to teach them--I _do_ hope you'll

excuse a trifling bit of vulgarity--to teach them to wipe their _dirty,

snotty little noses_."

Auk drew his hanger; it felt unaccustomedly heavy in his hand,

but the weight and the cold, hard metal of the hilt were reassuring.

Hoarsely, Oreb advised, "No, no!"

Incus, having heard the hiss of the blade as it cleared the

scabbard, called, "_Corporal!_"

Hammerstone's voice came from a distance, echoing through the

tunnel. "Right here, Patera. I started dropping back as soon as I

heard you and him talking."

"Hammerstone has no _light_, I fear. He tells me he lost it when he

was _shot_. But he can see in the dark better than _we_, Auk. Better

than _any_ biological person, in fact."

Auk, who could see nothing in the pitch blackness, said, "I got

eyes like a cat."

"_Do_ you really. What have I in my _hand_, in that case?"

"My needler." Auk sniffed; there was a faint stench, as though

someone were cooking with rancid fat.

"You're guessing." Hammerstone sounded closer. "You can't see

Patera's needler 'cause he's not holding it. You can't see my slug

gun either, but I see you and I got it aimed at you. Try to stick

Patera with that thing, and I'll shoot you. Put it up or I'll take it

away from you and bust it."

Faintly, Auk heard the big soldier's rapid steps. He was running,

or at least trotting.

"Bird see," the night chough muttered in Auk's ear.

"You don't have to do that," Auk told Hammerstone. "I'm putting

it up." To Oreb he whispered, "Where is he?"

"Come back."

"Yeah, I know. Is he as close as that shaggy butcher?"

"Near men. Men wait."

Auk called, "Hammerstone! Stop. Watch out!"

The running steps halted. "This better be good."

"How many men, bird?"

"Many." The night chough's bill clacked nervously. "Gods too.

Bad gods!"

"Hammerstone, listen up! You can't see much better'n Patera. I

know that."

"Spit oil!"

"Only I can. Between you and him, there's a bunch of culls,

waiting quiet up against the wall. They got--"

The sound that filled the tunnel was half snarl and half howl. It

was followed by a boom from Hammerstone's slug gun, and the ring

of a hard blow on metal.

"Hit head," Oreb explained, and elaborated, "Iron man."

Hammerstone fired twice in quick succession, the echoing thunder

succeeded by a series of hard, flat reports and the tortured

shriekings of ricocheting needles.

"Get down!" Auk reached for a place where he thought Dace

might be, but his hand met only air.

A scream. Auk shouted, "I'm coming, Jugs!" and found that he

was running already, sprinting sightless through darkness thicker

than the darkest night, his hanger blade probing the blackness

before him like a beggar's white stick.

Oreb flapped overhead. "Man here!"

Auk slashed wildly again and again, half crouched, still advancing,

his left hand groping frantically for the knife in his boot. His

blade struck something hard that was not the wall, then bit deep into

flesh. Someone who was not Chenille yelped with pain and surprise.

Hammerstone's slug gun boomed, close enough that the flash lit

the vicinity like lightning: a naked skeletal figure reeled backward

with half its face gone. Auk slashed again and again and again. The

third slash met no resistance.

"Man dead!" Oreb announced excitedly. "Cut good!"

"Auk! Auk, help me! Help!"

"I'm coming!"

"Watch out!" Oreb warned, _sotto voce_. "Iron man."

"Get outta my way, Hammerstone!"

From his left, Oreb croaked, "Come Auk."

His blade rang upon metal. He ducked, certain Hammerstone

would swing at him. Then he was past, and Oreb exclaiming from

some distance, "Here girl! Here Auk! Big fight!"

"Auk! Get him off me!"

A new voice nearly as harsh as Oreb's demanded, "Auk? Auk

from the Cock?"

"Shag yes!"

"Pas piss. Wait a minute."

Auk halted. "Jugs, you all right?"

There was no reply.

Someone moaned, and Hammerstone fired again. Auk yelled,

"Don't fight unless they do, anybody. Old man, where are you?"

His own fighting frenzy had drained away, leaving him weaker

and sicker than ever. "Jugs?"

Oreb seconded him. "Girl say. All right? No die?"

"No! I'm not all right." Chenille gasped for breath. "He hit me with

something, Auk. He knocked me down and tried to... You know.

Get it free. I'm pretty beat up, but I'm still alive, I guess."

The darkness faded, as sudden as shadeup and as faint. A dozen

stades along the tunnel, one of the crawling lights was slowly

rounding a corner. As Auk watched fascinated, it came into full

view, a gleaming pinprick that rendered plain all that had been

concealed.

Chenille was sitting up some distance away. Seeing Auk, the

naked, starved-looking man standing over her raised both hands

and backed off. Auk went to her and tried to help her up,

discovering (just as Silk had a moment before) that his hand was

encumbered by his knife. Gritting his teeth against pain that seemed

about to tear his head to bits, he stooped and returned the knife to

his boot.

"He grabbed my launcher in the dark. Hit me with a club or

something."

Examining her scalp in the dim light, Auk decided the dark

splotch was a bleeding bruise. "You're shaggy lucky he didn't kill you."

The naked man smirked. "I could of. I wasn't tryin' to."

"I ought to kill you," Auk told him. "I think I will. Go get your

launcher, Jugs."

Behind Auk, Incus said, "He intended to take her by _force_, I dare

say. I warned her on that _very_ point. To force any woman is wrong,

my son. To force yourself upon a _prophetess_--" Striding forward, the

little augur leveled Auk's big needler. "I _too_ am of half a mind to kill

you, for _Scylla's_ sake.

"Patera got both gods," Hammerstone announced proudly. "A

couple of you meatheads, too."

"Wait up, Patera. We got to talk to him." Auk indicated the naked

man by a jab of his gory hanger. "What's your name?"

"Urus. Look, Auk, we used to be a dimber knot. Remember that

sweatin' ken? You went in through the back while I kept the street

for you."

"Yeah. I remember you. You got the pits. That was--" Auk tried

to think, but found only pain.

"Only a couple months ago, 'n I got lucky." Urus edged closer,

hands supplicating. "If I'd of knowed it was you, Auk, this whole lay

would of gone different. We'd of helped you, me 'n my crew. Only I

never had no way to know, see? This cully Gelada, all he said was

her 'n him." He indicated Chenille and Incus by quick gestures. "A

tall piece out of the piece pit 'n a runt cull with her, see, Auk? He

never said nothin' about no sojer. Nothin' about you. Soon's I

twigged the sojer walkin', I was fit to beat hoof, only by then he was

goin' back."

Chenille began, "How come--"

"Because you ain't got anything on, Jugs." Auk sighed. "They take

their clothes before they shove 'em in. I thought everybody knew

that. Sit down. You too, Patera, Hammerstone. Old man, you coming?"

Oreb added his own throaty summons. "Old man!"

There was no reply from the ebbing darkness.

"Sit down," Auk told them again. "We're all tired out--shaggy

Hierax knows I am--and we've probably got a long way to go before

we find dinner or a place to sleep. I got a few questions for Urus

here. Most likely the rest of you got some too."

"_I_ do, certainly."

"All right, you'll get your chance." Auk seated himself gingerly on

the cold floor of the tunnel. "First, I ought to tell you that what he

said's lily, but it don't mean a lot. I know maybe a hundred culls I

can trust a little, only not too much. Before they threw him in the

pits, he used to be one of 'em, and that's all it ever was."

Incus and Hammerstone had sat down together as he spoke;

cautiously, Urus sat, too, after receiving a permissive nod.

Auk leaned back, his eyes shut and his head spinning. "I said

everybody'd get their chance. I only got this one first, then the rest

of you can go ahead. Where's Dace, Urus?"

"Who's that?"

"The old man. We had a old man with us, a fisherman. His name's

Dace. You do for him?"

"I didn't do for anybody." Urus might have been a league away.

Hammerstone's voice: "Why'd they throw you in the pit?" Chenille's:

"That doesn't matter now. What are you doing here, that's

what I want to know. You're supposed to be in a pit, and you

thought I'd been in one. Was it no clothes, like Auk said?" Incus:

"My son, I have been _considering_ this. You could _hardly_ have

foreseen that I, an augur, would be _armed_." "I didn't even know you

was one. That cully Gelada, he said there was this long mort, and a

little cull with her. That's all we knew when we started pullin' lights

down." "It was this _Gelada_ who shot the bone arrow at _me_, I take it."

"Not at you, Patera. At her. She had a launcher, he said, so he shot,

only he missed. He's got this bow pasted up out of bones, only he's

not as good with it as he thinks. Auk, all I want's to get out, see?

You take me up, anyplace, 'n that's it. I'll do anythin' you say."

"I was wondering," Auk murmured.

Incus: "I _fired_ twenty times at least. There were _beastly animals_,

and _men_ as well." Chenille: "You could've killed all of us, you know

that? Just shooting Auk's needler like that in the dark. That was

abram." Hammerstone: "Not me." "If I had _not_, my daughter, I might

very well have died _myself_. Nor was I firing at _random_. I _knew!_

Though I might as well have been _blind_. That was _wonderful_. Truly

_miraculous. Scylla_ must have been at my side. They _rushed_ upon me

to kill me, all of them, but _I_ killed _them_ instead."

Auk opened his eyes to squint into the darkness behind them.

"They killed Dace, maybe. I dunno. In a minute I'm going to see."

Chenille prepared to rise. "You feel awful, don't you? I'll go."

"Not now, Jugs. It's still dark back there. Urus, you said your culls

took down lights. That was to make a dark stretch here so you could

get behind us, right?"

"That's it, Auk. Getada got up on my shoulders to pull four down,

'n Gaur run them on back. They spread out lookin' for dark. You

know about that?"

Auk grunted.

"Only they don't go real fast. So we figured we'd wait flat to the

side till you went by. Her, I mean, 'n this runt augur cully. That's all

we figured there was." "And jump on me from in back!" "What'd you

of done?" (Auk sensed, though he could not see, Urus's outspread

hands.) "You shot a rocket at Gelada. If it hadn't been for the bend,

you coulda done for our whole knot." "Bad man!" (That was Oreb.)

Auk opened his eyes once more. "Three or four, anyhow.

Hammerstone, didn't you say something about a couple animals

Patera shot?"

"Tunnel gods," Hammerstone confirmed. "Like dogs, like I told

you, only not nice like dogs."

"I got to go back," Auk muttered. "I got to see what's happened to

the old man, and I want to have a look at these gods. Urus, you're

one, and I did for one, so that makes two. Hammerstone says Patera

got a couple, that's four. Anybody else do for any?"

Hammerstone: "Me. One. And one Patera'd shot was still flopping

around, so I shot him again."

"Yeah, I think I heard that. So that's five. Urus, don't give me

clatter, I'm telling you. How many'd you have?"

"Six, Auk, 'n the two bufes."

"Counting you?"

"That's right, countin' me, 'n that's the lily word."

"I'm going back there," Auk repeated, "soon as the lights get there

and I feel better. Anybody that wants to come with me, that's all

right. Anybody that wants to go on, that's all right, too. But I'm

going to look at the gods and see about Dace." He closed his eyes again.

"Good man!"

"Yeah, bird, he was." Auk waited for someone to speak, but no

one did. "Urus, they threw you in the pits. Do they really throw

them? I always wondered."

"Only if you get their backs up. If you don't, you can ride down in

the basket."

"That's how they feed you? Put your slum in this basket and let it

down?"

"'N water jars, sometimes. Only mostly we got to catch our own

when it rains."

"Keep talking."

"It ain't as bad as you think. Anyhow mine ain't. Mostly we get

along, see? 'N the new ones comin' in are stronger."

"Unless they get thrown. They'd have broken legs and so forth, I guess"

"That's lily, Auk."

"Then you kill 'em right off and eat 'em while they're still fat?"

Someone (Incus, Auk decided) gasped.

"Not all the time, 'n that's lily. Not if it's somebody that somebody

knows. We wouldn't of et you, see."

"So you got stuck in a pit, riding down in this basket, and you're a

bully cull, or used to be. Found out they'd been digging, didn't

you?" Auk opened his eyes, resolving to keep them open.

"That's it. They meant to dig out, see? Over till they fetched the

big wall, then down underneath, deep as they had to. Ours is about

the deepest, see? One of the real old 'uns 'n one that's near the wall.

They'd dig with bones, two culls at once, 'n more carryin' it out in

their hands. The rest'd watch for Hoppy 'n tramp it down when it

was scattered 'round. They told me all about it."

Hammerstone asked, "You hit this tunnel when you went to go

under the wall?"

Urus nodded eagerly. "They did, that's the right of it. They told

me. And the shiprock--it's shiprock there, it is in lots of place--it

was cracked, see? 'N they scraped the dirt out, hopin' to get

through, 'n saw the lights. They got wild then, that's what they said.

So they fetched rocks 'n chipped away at the shiprock, just a

snowflake, like, for your wap, fill you can wiggle through."

Incus grinned, exposing his protruding teeth more than ever. "I

_begin_ to comprehend your plight, my son. When you had _accessed_

these horrid tunnels, you found yourself _unable_ to reach the _surface_.

Is that not correct? The fact of the matter? _Pas's_ justice on you?"

"Yeah, that's it, Patera." With an ingratiating grimace, Urus

leaned toward Incus, appearing almost to abase himself. "Only look

at it, Patera. You shot a couple friends of mine just a minute ago,

didn't you? You didn't lend 'em no horse to Mainframe, did you?"

Incus shook his head, plump cheeks quivering. "I thought it best

to let the gods judge for _themselves_ in this instance, my son. As I

would in _yours_, as well."

"All right, I was fixin' to kill you. That's lily, see? I'm not tryin' to

bilk you over it. Only now you 'n me ought to forget about all that,

see Patera? Put it right behind us like what Pas'd want us to do. So

how about it?" Urus held out his hand.

"My son, when you possess such a needler as _this_, I shall consent

to a truce _gladly_."

Auk chuckled. "How far you gone, Urus? Looking for a way out?"

"Pretty far. Only there's queer cheats in these tunnels, see? 'N

there's various ones, too. Some's full of water, or there's cave-ins.

Some ends up against doors."

Chenille said, "I can tell you something about the doors, Hackum,

next time we're alone."

"That's the dandy, Jugs. You do that." Painfully, Auk clambered

to his feet. Seeing that the blade of his hanger was still fouled with

blood, he wiped it on the hem of his tunic and sheathed it. "Things in

these tunnels, huh? What kinds of things?"

"There's sojers like him down this way." Urus pointed to

Hammerstone. "They'll shoot if they see you, so you got to keep listenin'

for 'em. That was how I knowed he was a sojer in the dark, see?

They don't make much noise, not even when they're marchin', but

they don't sound like you 'n me, neither, 'n sometimes you can hear

when their guns hit up against 'em. Then there's bufes, what he calls

gods, 'n they can be devils. Only this cull Eland caught a couple

little 'uns 'n kind of tamed 'em, see? We had 'em with us. There's

big machines, sometimes, too. Some's tall asses, only not all. Some

won't row you if you don't rouse 'em."

"That all?"

"All I ever seen, Auk. There's stories 'bout ghosts 'n things, but I

don't know."

"All right." Auk turned to address Incus, Hammerstone, and

Chenille. "I'm going to go back there and have a look for Dace, like

I said."

He strolled slowly along the tunnel toward the lingering darkness,

not stopping until he reached the point at which the men and beasts

shot by Incus lay. Squatting to examine them more closely, he

contrived to glance toward the group he had left. No one had

followed him, and he shrugged. "Just you and me, Oreb."

"Bad things!"

"Yeah, they sure are. He called 'em bufes, but a bufe's a

watchdog, and Hammerstone was right. These ain't real dogs at all."

A crude bludgeon, a stone lashed with sinew to a fire-blackened

bone, lay near one of the convicts Incus had shot. Auk picked it up

to look at, then tossed it away, wondering how close the man had

gotten to Incus before he fell. If Incus had been killed, he, Auk,

would have gotten his needler back. But what might Hammerstone

have done?

He examined more curiously the one he had cut down with his

hanger. He had stolen the hanger originally, had worn it largely for

show, had sharpened it once only because he used it now and then

to cut rope or prize open drawers, had taken two lessons from

Master Xiphias out of curiosity; now he felt that he possessed a

weapon he had never known was his.

The radiance of the creeping lights was noticeably dimmer here; it

would be some time before the section in which he had left the old

fisherman was well lit. He drew his hanger and advanced cautiously.

"You sing out if you see anything, bird."

"No see."

"But you can see in this, can't you? Shag, I can see, too. I just

can't see good."

"No men." Oreb snapped his bill and fluttered from Auk's right

shoulder to his left. "No things."

"Yeah, I don't see much either. I wish I could be sure this was the

spot."

Most of all, he wished that Chenille had come. Bustard was

walking beside him, big and brawny; but it was not the same. If

Chenille had not cared enough to come, there was no point going--no

point in anything.

How'd you get yourself into this, sprat, Bastard wanted to know.

"I dunno," Auk muttered. "I forget."

Give me the pure keg, sprat. You want me to window you out? If

I'm going to help, I got to know.

"Well, I liked him. Patera, I mean. Patera Silk. I think the

Ayuntamiento got him. I thought, well, I'll go out to the lake

tonight, meet 'em in Limna, and they'll be glad to see me for the

gelt, for a dimber dinner and drinks, and maybe a couple uphill

rooms for us after. He won't touch her, he's a augur--"

"Bad talk!"

"He's a augur, and she'll have a couple with her dinner and feel

like she owes me for it and the ring, owes for both, and it'll be nice."

What'd I tell you about hooking up with some dell, sprat?

"Yeah, sure, brother. Whatever you say. Only then he was gone

and she was fuddled, and I got hot and lumped her and went looking. Only

everybody say's he's going to be calde, the new calde--Patera. That

would be somebody to know, if he pulls it off."

"Girl come!"

Never mind that. So now you're going back here, back the way we

come, for this Silk butcher?

"Yeah, for Silk, because he'd want me to. And for him, too, for

Dace, the old man that owned our boat."

You've snaffled a sackful like him. You don't even have his

shaggy boat.

"Patera'd want me to, and I liked him."

This much?

"Hackum? Hackum!"

He's waitin', you know. That buck Gelada's waitin' for us in the

dark next to the old man's body, sprat. He had a bow. Didn't any of

em back there have no bow.

"Girl come," Oreb repeated.

Auk swung around to face her. "Stand clear, Jugs!"

"Hackum, there's something I've got to tell you, but I can't yell it."

"He can see us, Jugs. Only we can't see him. Not even the bird can

see him from here where it's brighter, looking into the dark.

Where's your launcher?"

"I had to leave it with Stony. Patera didn't want me to go. I think

he thought I might try to kill them with it once I got off a ways."

Auk glanced to his right, hoping to consult Bustard; but Bustard

had gone.

"So I said, we're not going to do anything like that. We don't hate

you. But he said you did."

Auk shook his head, the pain there a crimson haze. "He hates me,

maybe. I don't hate him."

"That's what I told him. He said very well my daughter--you

know how he talks--leave _that_ with us, and I shall believe you. So I

did. I gave it to Stony."

"And came after me without it to tell me about the shaggy doors."

"Yes!" She drew nearer as she spoke. "It's important, really

important, Hackum, and I don't want that cully that knocked me

down to hear it."

"Is it about what the tall ass said?"

Chenille halted, dumbfounded.

"I heard, Jugs. I was right there behind you, and doors are my

business. Doors and windows and walls and roofs. You think I'd

miss that?"

She shook her head. "I guess not."

"I guess not, too. Stay back where you'll be safe." He turned away,

hoping she had not seen how sick and dizzy he was; the darkening

tunnel seemed to spin as he stared into its black maw, a pinwheel

that had burned out, or the high rear wheel of a deadcoach, all

ebony and black iron, rolling down a tarred road to nowhere. "I

know you're in there, Gelada, and you got the old man with you.

You listen here. My name's Auk, and I'm a pal of Urus's. I'm not

here for a row. Only I'm a pal of the old man's, too."

His voice was trailing away. He tried to collect such strength as

remained. "What we're going to do pretty soon now, we're going to

go back to your pit with Urus."

"Hackum!"

"Shut up." He did not bother to look at her. "That's 'cause I can

get you through one of these iron doors down here that you can't

solve. I'm going to talk to 'em in your pit. I'm going to say anybody

that wants out, you come with me and I'll get you out. Then we'll go

to that door and I'll open it, and we'll go on out. Only that's it. I

ain't coming back for anybody."

He paused, waiting for some reply. Oreb's bill clacked nervously.

"You and the old man come here and you can come with us. Or let

him go and head back to the pit yourself, and you can come along

with the rest if you want to. But I'm going to look for him."

Chenille's hand touched his shoulder, and he started.

"You in this, Jugs?"

She nodded and put her arm through his. They had taken perhaps

a hundred more steps into the deepening darkness when an arrow

whizzed between their heads; she gasped and held him more tightly

than ever.

"That's just a warning," he told her. "He could have put it in us if

he'd wanted to. Only he won't, because we can get him out and he

can't get out himself."

He raised his voice as before. "The old man's finished, ain't he,

Gelada? I got you. And you think when I find out, it's all in the tub.

That's not how it'll be. Everything I said still goes. We got a augur

with us, the little cull you saw with Jugs here when you shot at her.

Just give us the old man's body. We'll get him to pray over it and

maybe bury it somewhere proper, if we can find a place. I never

knew you, but maybe you knew Bustard, my brother. Buck that

nabbed the gold Molpe Cup? You want us to fetch Urus? He'll cap

for me."

Chenille called, "He's telling the truth, Gelada, really he is. I

don't think you're here any more, I think you ran off down the

tunnel. That's what I'd have done. But if you are, you can trust

Auk. You must have been down in the pit a real long time, because

everybody in the Orilla knows Auk now."

"Bird see!" Oreb muttered.

Auk walked slowly into the deepening twilight of the tunnel. "He

got his bow?"

"Got bow!"

"Put it down, Gelada. You shoot me, you're shooting the last

chance you'll ever get."

"Auk?" The voice from the darkness might have been that of

Hierax himself, hollow and hopeless as the echo from a tomb. "That

your name? Auk?"

"That's me. Bustard's brother. He was older than me."

"You got a needler? Lay it down."

"I don't have one." Auk sheathed his hanger, pulled off his tunic,

and dropped it to the tunnel floor. With uplifted arms, he turned in

a complete circle. "See? I got the whin, and that's all I got." He drew

his hanger again and held it up. "I'm leaving it right here on my

gipon. You can see Jugs don't have anything either. She left her

launcher back there with the soldier." Slowly he advanced into the

darkness, his hands displayed.

There was a sudden glimmer a hundred paces up the tunnel. "I got

a darkee," Gelada called. "Burns bufe drippin's."

He puffed the flame again, and this time Auk could hear the soft

exhalation of his breath, "I should've figured," he muttered to

Chenille.

"We don't like to use 'um much." Gelada stood, a stick figure not

much taller than Incus. "Keep 'um shut up mostly. Wick 'bout

snuffed. Culls bring 'um down 'n leave 'um."

When Auk, walking swiftly through the dark, said nothing, he

repeated, "Burn drippin's when the oil's gone."

"I was thinking you'd make 'em out of bones," Auk said

conversationally. "Maybe twist the wicks out of hair." He was close now, near

enough to see Dace's shadowy body lying at Gelada's feet.

"We do that sometimes, too. Only hair's no good. We braid 'urn

out o' rags."

Auk halted beside the body. "Got him back there, didn't you? His

kicks are messed some."

"Dragged 'im far as I could. "E's a grunter."

Auk nodded absently. Silk had once told him, as the two had sat

at dinner in a private room in Viron, that Blood had a daughter, and

that Blood's daughter's face was like a skull, was like talking to a

skull though she was living and Bustard was dead (Bustard whose

face really was a skull now) was not like that. Her father's face,

Blood's flabby face, was not like that either, was soft and red and

sweating even when he was saying that this one or that one must

pay.

But this Gelada's too was a skull, as if he and not Blood were the

mort Mucor's father, was as beardless as any skull or nearly, the

grayish white of dirty bones even in the stinking yellow light of the

dark lantern--a talking cadaver with a little round belly, elbows

bigger than its arms, and shoulders like a towel horse, the dark

lantern in its hand and its small bow, like a child's bow, of bone

wound with rawhide, lying at its feet, with an arrow next to it, with

Dace's broad-bladed old knife next to that, and Dace's old head, the

old cap it always wore gone, his wild white hair like a crone's and

the clean white bones of his arm half-cleaned of flesh and whiter

than his old eyes, whiter than anything.

"You crank, Auk?"

"Yeah, a little." Auk crouched beside Dace's body.

"Had the shiv on 'im." Stooping swiftly, Gelada snatched it up.

"I'm keepin' it."

"Sure." The sleeve of Dace's heavy, worn blue tunic had been cut

away, and strips cut from his forearm and upper arm. Oreb hopped

from Auk's shoulder to scrutinize the work, and Auk warned him,

"Not your peck."

"Poor bird!"

"Had a couple bits, too. You can have 'um when you get me out."

"Keep 'em. You'll need 'em up there."

From the corner of his eye, Auk saw Chenille trace the sign of

addition. "High Hierax, Dark God, God of Death..."

"He show much fight?"

"Not much. Got behind 'im. Got my spare string 'round 'is neck.

There a art to that. You know Mandrill?"

"Lit out," Auk told him without looking up. "Palustria's what I

heard."

"My cousin. Used to work with 'im. How 'bout Elodia?"

"She's dead. You, too." Auk straightened up and drove his knife

into the rounded belly, the point entering below the ribs and

reaching upward for the heart.

Gelada's eyes and mouth opened wide. Briefly, he sought to

grasp Auk's wrist, to push away the blade that had already ended his

life. His dark lantern fell clattering to the naked shiprock with

Dace's old knife, and darkness rushed upon them.

"Hackum!"

Auk felt Gelada's weight come onto the knife as Gelada's legs

went limp. He jerked it free and wiped the blade and his right hand

on his thigh, glad that he did not have to look at Gelada's blood at

that moment, or meet a dead man's empty, staring eyes.

"Hackum, you said you wouldn't hurt him!"

"Did I? I don't remember."

"He wasn't going to do anything to us."

She had not touched him, but he sensed the nearness of her, the

female smell of her loins and the musk of her hair. "He'd already

done it, Jugs." He returned his knife to his boot, located Dace's

body with groping fingers, and slung it across his shoulders. It felt

no heavier than a boy's. "You want to bring that darkee? Could be

good if we can figure away to light it."

Chenille said nothing, but in a few seconds he heard the tinny

rattle of the lantern.

"He killed Dace. That'd be enough by itself, only he ate him

some, too. That's why he didn't talk at first. Too busy chewing. He

knew we'd want the old man's body, and he wanted to fill up."

"He was starving. Starving down here." Chenille's voice was

barely above a whisper.

"Sure. Bird, you still around?"

"Bird here!" Feathers brushed Auk's fingers; Oreb was riding atop

Dace's corpse.

"If you were starving, you might have done the same thing,

Hackum."

Auk did not reply, and she added, "Me, too, I guess."

"It don't signify, Jugs." He was walking faster, striding along

ahead of her.

"I don't see why not!"

"Because I had to. He'd have done it too, like I said. We're going

to the pit. I told him so."

"I don't like that, either." Chenille sounded as though she were

about to weep.

"I got to. I got too many friends that's been sent there, Jugs. If

some's in this pit and I can get 'em out, I got to do it. And

everybody in the pit's going to find out. Maybe Patera wouldn't tell

'em, if I asked nice. Maybe Hammerstone wouldn't. Only Urus

would for sure. He'd say this cull, he did for a pal of Auk's and ate

him, too, and Auk never done a thing. When I got 'em out, it'd be

all over the city."

A god laughed behind them, faintly but distinctly, the meaningless,

humorless laughter of a lunatic; Auk wondered whether

Chenille had heard it. "So I had to. And I did it. You would've too,

in my shoes."

The tunnel was growing lighter already. Ahead, where it was

brighter still, he could see Incus, Hammerstone, and Urus still

seated on the tunnel floor, Hammerstone with Chenille's launcher

across his steel lap, Incus telling his beads, Urus staring back up the

tunnel toward them.

"All right, Hackum."

Here were his hanger and his tunic. He laid down Dace's corpse,

sheathed the hanger, and put on his tunic again.

"Man good!" Oreb's beak snapped with appreciation.

"You been eating off him? I told you about that."

"Other man," Oreb explained. "My eyes."

Auk shrugged. "Why not?"

"Let's get out of here. Please, Hackum." Chenille was already

several steps ahead.

He nodded and picked up Dace.

"I've got this bad feeling. Like he's still alive back there or

something."

"He ain't." Auk reassured her.

As they reached the three who had waited, Incus pocketed his

beads. "I would gladly have brought the _Pardon of Par_ to our late

comrade. But his spirit has _flown_."

"Sure," Auk said. "We were just hoping you'd bury him, Patera, if

we can find a place."

"It's _Patera_ now?"

"And before. I was saying Patera before. You just didn't notice,

Patera."

"Oh, but I _did_, my son." Incus motioned for Hammerstone and

Urus to rise. "I would do what I _can_ for our unfortunate comrade in

any case. Not for your sake, my son, but for _his_."

Auk nodded. "That's all we're asking, Patera. Gelada's dead.

Maybe I ought to tell everybody."

Incus was eyeing Dace's body. "You cannot bear such a weight

_far_, my son. Hammerstone will have to carry him, I suppose."

"No," Auk said, his voice suddenly hard. "Urus will. Come're,

Urus. Take it."