Return to the Whorl

4. HE IS SILK

He felt Pig's hand close on his shoulder. "Hooses, bucky. Trust ter Pig. Hooses Nall 'round."

At that moment, he was too tired to wonder how Pig knew. "Then let's stop here and ask, if they'll talk to us."

"Pockets runnin' h'over wi' cards, bucky?"

"No," he said. "Not running over."

"Nor me. Nor H'oreb, Pig wagers. Got a card, do yer, H'oreb? Yer do nae!"

"Poor bird."

"Yet good people can be moved by charity, sometimes, and all we want is a place to rest and a little information."

"H'all yer want." The tap-tap-tap of Pig's sheathed sword was moving away, as was Pig's towering bulk, visible in the light of the glowing skylands. "H'oreb's hungry though. H'ain't yer, H'oreb? A bite a' een, noo. Dinna say yer never Nate nae een, H'oreb. Pig knows yer breed."

Oreb fluttered to Pig's shoulder. "Fish heads?"

"Aye! Comin', bucky?" Pig's leather-covered scabbard rapped wood.

Silence followed, save for the tapping of his own staff and the shuffle of his feet. "Yes," he said. "I had misjudged your position a bit. How did you know there were houses here? I couldn't see them myself until you told me they were present."

"Feel 'em." The scabbard rapped the door again. "Feel 'em h'on me clock."

It seemed impossible that they had reached the outskirts of Viron already. "Are there many?"

"Both sides a' ther road. 'Tis Nall Pig can tell yer."

"It's remarkable just the same."

"Blind, aye. H'oreb can tell yer more. How many, H'oreb? Let's hear yer count 'em."

"Many house." Oreb's bill rattled.

"There yer have h'it." The leather-covered scabbard pounded the door. "'Tis listenin' does h'it, bucky. Most dinna. Take 'em h'inside. Think they hears us knockin' sae polite? If Pig was ter kick ther door h'in, they'd have ter listen, wouldn't they? They would." A explosive thump was presumably Pig's boot striking the door.

"Don't! Please don't. We can go on to the next house."

"Aye." Another violent kick, so loud that it seemed it must surely attract the attention of the godling at the bridge, a full league off.

From inside a voice called, "Go away!"

"Soon Was she's stove h'in," Pig rumbled. "Gae smash h'in ther next. Winna take ter lang." To prove his point, he followed the words with another tremendous kick.

A woman's frightened voice sounded from inside the house.

"What's she sayin'? Yer make h'it h'out, bucky?"

"No." The end of his staff had found one of Pig's massive boots. Raising his voice slightly, he said, "Open the door, please. I swear we won't harm you."

Golden light appeared at a crack, followed by the scrape and thump of a heavy bar lifted from its fittings and set aside.

"Ah," Pig said, "maire like, 'tis."

The door opened a thumb's width, then swung back as Pig dropped to one knee and threw his shoulder against it. The woman inside screamed.

"Please, there's nothing to be afraid of. If you'd opened when we knocked, all this fuss would have been prevented."

"Who are you, sir?" The voice that had ordered them to go away was tremulous now.

He stepped inside and laid his hand on the householder's arm, calming him as if he were a dog or a horse. "My friend is blind. You're not afraid of a blind man, are you? And certainly you shouldn't be afraid of me. We haven't come to rob you. Put away that knife, please. Someone might be hurt."

The householder stepped back, evoking a terrified squeal from his wife. He held a candle in one hand and a butcher knife of substantial proportions in the other, and seemed inclined to surrender neither one.

"That's much better. May the Outsider, Pas, and every other god bless this house." Smiling, their visitor traced the sign of addition before turning back to Pig and wincing at his first real sight of that exceedingly large face, all dirty rag, straggling hair, and curling black beard. Pig was preparing to enter the house on his knees, ducking under the lintel and working his shoulders through the doorway.

"We're looking for eyes." It seemed a happy inspiration under the circumstances. "Eyes for my friend here. Do you know of a physician capable of replacing a blind man's eyes?"

"In the city," the householder managed. "In Viron, it might be done."

It was progress of a sort. "Good. What is his name?"

"I don't know, but-but…"

"But they might have someone?"

The householder nodded eagerly.

"I see-though my unfortunate friend does not. We must go to the city in that case."

The householder nodded again, more eagerly than ever.

"We shall. But we must rest first." He tried to recall when he had last slept, and failed. "We must find a place to sleep, and beg food-"

Oreb lit on his shoulder. "Fish heads?"

"Something for my bird, at least, and something-I'm afraid it will have to be quite a lot-for my friend Pig. We're sorry to have frightened you; but we could hear you inside, and when you wouldn't come to the door it made Pig angry."

The householder muttered something unintelligible.

"Thank you. Thank you very much. We really do appreciate it."

Loudly enough to be overheard, the householder's wife whispered, "… doesn't look like an augur."

"I am not. I'm a layman, just as your husband is, and have a wife of my own at home. Does it bother you that I blessed you? A layman may bless, I assure you; so may a laywoman."

"I'm Hound," the householder said. "My wife's Tansy." He tried to give his butcher knife to her, and when she would not take it, tossed it onto a chair and offered his hand.

"My own name is Horn." They shook hands, and Pig extended his, the size of a grocer's scoop. "Sorry ter a' scared yer."

"And my bird is-"

"Oreb!"

Tansy smiled, and her smile lit her small, pale face. "I'll get you some soup."

"You can sleep here," Hound told them. "In the house here, or… Would you like to eat out back? It's going to be a little cramped in here. There's a big tree in back, and there's a table there, and benches."

There were. Pig sat on the ground, and the other two on the benches Hound had mentioned. "We've beer." Hound sounded apologetic. "No wine, I'm sorry to say."

"How's yer water?"

"Oh, we've a good well. Would you prefer water?"

"Aye. Thank yer."

Hound, who had just sat down, rose with alacrity. "Horn, what about you? Beer?"

"Water, please. You might bring some sort of small container that Oreb could drink from, too, if it isn't too much trouble."

Tansy arrived with bulging pockets and a steaming tureen. "I try to keep fire in the stove, you know, so I don't have to lay a new one for every meal. I'll bet your wife does the same thing."

He nodded. "You'd win that bet."

"So when we have soup, why not keep it there so it stays warm? That way I can have some hot quickly. It-it really isn't any particular kind of soup, I suppose. Just what Hound and I eat ourselves. There's beans in it, and potatoes, and carrots for flavor."

"Guid ter smell h'all ther same. Ham, ter. Pig winds h'it."

The tureen received a place of honor in the center of the table next to Hound's candle. Four large bowls clattered down, followed by rattling spoons. "I'll get some bread. What's her name, Horn?"

He looked up, surprised.

"Your wife's?"

"Oh. Nettle. Her name is Nettle. I don't suppose you knew her as a child? Years ago in the city?"

"No. It's not a common name. I don't think I've ever known a Nettle." Tansy backed away, paused for a hurried conversation with her husband at the well, and retreated to her kitchen.

"She'll bring cups or something," Hound explained, setting his water bucket on the table beside the soup tureen, "and beer for me. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." He paused, trying to collect his thoughts. "May Imight we, I ought to say-begin by telling each other who we are? I realize it's not the conventional way to start a conversation; but you see, I need information badly and hope that when the three of you know why I need it as badly as I do, you'll be more inclined to give it to me."

Tansy set a bread board, a big loaf of dark bread, and the butcher knife on the table, and handed pannikins around. "I can tell you who Hound and I are, and I will too, unless he wants to. Shall I?"

"Go ahead," Hound said.

Pig found his pannikin and pushed it across the table. "Better h'if yer fill h'it fer me."

"You know our names," Tansy began. "You wanted to know if I knew your wife in the city when I was a little girl, and I didn't. I grew up right here in Endroad. So did Hound. We did live in the city up until about five years ago, though. There wasn't any work out here then."

Hound said, "There isn't any now, or very little."

"So we went to the city and worked there till my father passed away, and then my mother wrote and said we could have the shop." Tansy began ladling out soup.

"Mother lives next door," Hound explained, "that's why it bothered Tansy so much when you said you'd kick in her door too."

"So that's what we do now. Hound goes into the city, mostly, and tries to find things people want that we can buy at a good price, and he's very good at it. Mother and I stay in the store, mostly, and sell the things. We have hammers and nails, we sell a lot of those. And tacks and screws, and then general tinware, and crockery."

Hound added, "We have drills, planes, and saws, all of which my wife forgot to mention. I did cabinet work before we got the shop. We own our little house. Mother owns her house and the shop. We give her so much each week from what the shop takes in, and she helps Tansy there sometimes. So that's who we are, Horn, unless you want to hear about brothers and sisters."

He shook his head. "Thank you. By rights, we strangers should have gone first. It was gracious of you to give the example yourselves." He returned the pannikin, which he had filled with well water. "Here you are, Pig. It's good water, I'm sure. When we met, you told me you were journeying west, I believe."

"Aye."

He ladled water into his own, then held the ladle so that Oreb could drink from it. "Are you willing to tell us anything more? If you aren't, that should be sufficient, surely."

"Ho, aye. Dinna like ter snivel's h'all. What yer want ter know?"

Tansy ventured, "What happened to you? How…?"

Pig laughed, a deep booming. "How come yer nae sae big h'as me? Freak's what Ma said."

"How you…" Tansy's voice fell away. "We-we'd like to have a child, and I worry, you know, that something might be wrong with it. Not… Not that it would grow up big and strong. I'd like that."

Hound said, "Without offense. Could you see, when you were a boy? "

"Ho, aye. Was a trooper's h'all. Got caught, an' they dinna like me. Seen a dagger comin' h'at me een, an' 'twas ther last. Took me 'round h'after, h'only Pig canna see 'em nae mair. Heard 'em, though. Threw things h'at me, ter. 'Twas h'in ther light lands, ther mountings. Doon here's flatlands." Pig spooned up more soup and swallowed noisily. "Yer nae eatin' naethin', bucky. What's wrong wi' yer?"

"I-" He picked up his spoon. "Because you would have heard me, I suppose, if I had been-though I try to make as little noise as I can, eating soup. You came here seeking new eyes, Pig?"

"Aye. Yer knows a' ther wee folk, bucky?"

"Children, you mean? Or us? We must seem very small indeed to you."

"Smaller'n yer. Hereabout folk don't know such, but h'in ther light lands 'tis different. They comes, an' they goes." Pig held out his hand, scarcely higher than the table. "Little bits a' men, an' morts small ter them h'even. 'Fore me een's took, they dinna hardly never come. Not many's never seed such h'up close, like. H'after, they come 'round lots, knowin' 'twas safe wi' me, lang h'as they stayed h'out a' me reach."

Pig paused, his big fingers groping his beard. "They'd nae been afore, maybe. Canna say. Ane name a' Flannan come particular h'often. Still nae eatin' yer soup, bucky?"

"I suppose I'm not especially hungry-" he began.

"Bird eat!"

"Besides, I was listening to you with rapt attention." He dipped up soup, and sipped. "This was in the mountains, in the light lands, as you call them?"

"Ho, aye. Na braithrean was takin' care a' me, after 'em what had me give me h'up. Settin' Nall ter meself h'in ther sun. Settin' h'on a stone, knew 'twas h'in the sun by the warm a' h'it h'on me clock, an' here's Flannan. H'in ther west, he says, they gie new een. Gae ter t'other h'end a' ther sun. 'Tis Mainframe says h'it, Flannan says. What fashes yer, bucky?"

He had dropped his spoon into his bowl, and Tansy asked, "Yes, what is it?"

"I understand! I-what a fool! You talked about little people, Pig, and I ought to have understood you at once. They fly, don't they?"

"Do they fly, bucky? They do."

"We call them Fliers here," he said, "and I used to know one. The mountains you mentioned, are those the Mountains That Look at Mountains?"

"Aye, bucky, but 'tis lang h'on ther tongue sae Pig says mountings, mostly."

He spoke to Tansy and Hound. "The Mountains That Look at Mountains surround Mainframe at the East Pole. I went there once. We flew over them."

Wide-eyed, Tansy asked, "Can you fly, too? Like a Flier?"

"No. I was a-a passenger, I suppose I should say, on the airship of the Rani of Trivigaunte. Auk and Chenille and Nettle and me. And Maytera, too, and Patera Remora. A lot of people. We went to Mainframe and spoke with the dead. I know how that sounds, how incredible. You need not believe me, and I won't blame you in the least if you don't."

"Bird go!" Oreb declared.

"Will you, good bird?" He fished a slice of celery from his soup and offered it.

"This is…" Tansy pushed a lock of her long hair from her eyes. "You really are extraordinary people, Horn. Both of you are."

"Everyone is an extraordinary person," he told her solemnly. "I haven't profited from life as I should. I haven't learned very much at all. But I have learned that, a fact I know beyond all doubt and question. That's something, surely."

He turned back to Pig. "But you don't want to hear about me, and I certainly don't want to hear about myself. My mind keeps talking to me about myself all the time, and to confess the truth, I'm heartily sick of it. This Flier, Flannan-he said that they could give you new eyes at the West Pole? And that Mainframe had told him it was possible?"

"Did he say sae? He did. Soon h'as he's h'off himself, 'tis ther road fer Pig. 'Tis a lang 'un, though."

Hound asked, "To the West Pole? I've never heard of anyone traveling anything like that far. Have you, Horn?"

"No. It's hundreds of leagues, I'm sure. If memory serves, Sciathan-that was the Flier I knew-said once that it would take months for a mounted party to reach the East Pole, and I believe we're considerably nearer the East Pole than the West. It might easily take Pig years to walk to the West Pole. Or so I would imagine."

"'Tis been a year fer me h'already, bucky." Pig inclined toward him, his great, homely face, banded with its soiled rag and lit from below by the flickering candle, desperate and resolute. "H'only ter me, h'if een can be put back there, een can be put back somewhere h'else, like Was nae. Sae why nae h'ask h'along yer way?"

"Why not indeed?"

"Gae ter t'other h'end, though, h'if there's nae help fer h'it. Yer need nae come wi' me, h'if yer finds yer h'own short a' there."

The man Pig called bucky smiled, sipped his water, and smiled again. "Which brings us to me, I'm afraid. Shall I recount my tale?"

Pig grunted, and Hound and Tansy nodded, while Oreb bobbed his approval. "Silk talk!"

"My name is Horn, as you know. I was born in the city; I lived there until the age of fifteen, when a group of us boarded the lander that carried us to Blue, where we founded the town we call New Viron. My wife, Nettle, and I settled outside the town, on Lizard Island. We manufacture paper there and sell it-or we did." He took another sip of water. "It's so hot here. I had forgotten."

Hound said, "Lately. Hot summers and short winters."

"Yes, I remember now. Mainframe is losing control of the sun, and Pas is trying to drive all of you out."

Tansy nodded. "That's what the augurs say."

"Gae h'on, bucky."

"As you wish. New Viron has grown-I won't call it a city, yet that would be only a slight exaggeration. Others have come, of course, and some have joined us, coming to live in New Viron or working land in its territory, or fishing or lumbering. Some have been from Viron itself, some from Limna and the other villages, no doubt including this one, and some from foreign cities. When a group from a foreign city lands, they are not permitted to establish a town of their own where they landed, for reasons that should be apparent. They must either join us in New Viron or leave our territory. Most choose to unite themselves to us."

Hound said, "I understand."

"Some are forced to stay and labor for us, I'm sorry to say, and are bought and sold like cattle; in any case, they too swell our population. There has been natural increase as well, as one would expect. Nettle and I have three sons, and ours is not considered a large family. Families with eight or ten children are by no means uncommon."

"Yer lookin' fer a mon a' ther name a' Silk, bucky."

"Yes, I am, and that's the most urgent point I require information on. He may be called Calde Silk or Patera Silk. Can any of you tell me where to find him?"

Hound and Tansy shook their heads.

"Things are not as we'd like in New Viron, you see. The rich struggle with one another, each gathering such followers as he can and hoping to rule in a year or two. Stronger than any of them is the mob, those among us who acknowledge no rule but their own, and desire neither justice nor peace."

Hound said, "That sounds like Viron itself. Are you sure you're not talking about that?"

"No. I have not set foot in Viron in twenty years, and I am very sorry indeed to hear that things are in such a state. Since neither you nor your wife can tell me where I might find Patera Silk, I take it he no longer leads your government."

Tansy said, "That was years and years ago."

"I see." He paused, stirred his soup, and fished out a morsel of cabbage for Oreb. "We hoped that he could help us-and that he would. It's why I came."

Hound asked, "From Blue?"

"Indirectly, yes. I knew Calde Silk well in the old days."

Tansy pulled a wad of colored cloth from one of the pockets of her apron. "Napkins! I brought napkins, and forgot to give them to you."

He accepted one and wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry. It's a childish weakness, one I very much regret. I happened to think again about leaving, and the last time I saw Silk. It was snowing. One of those short winters we spoke of, and I only saw half of it. Half or less. Silk walked away into the snow, and we went down into the tunnels, Nettle and I. I was very excited, and felt that we were doing something terribly brave, and that we were doing what Silk wanted, too.

"I'm sure we were, still. I know we were. And we were going to go to a wonderful new whorl; we did that, but when I think back to the days when I lived with my mother and father, and my sisters and brothers, and all of us knew Patera Silk, I call them the good old days. That seems so sad now. How very young we were!"

"Poor Silk!"

"Not really, Oreb." He smiled through his tears. "I've had a good life, one that's not over yet. I've loved a wonderful woman and a very beautiful woman, and I have been loved. Not many men can say that."

"H'on wi' yer story, bucky."

"Very well. Nettle and I built a house on Lizard, well away from the stealing and the shootings. We were poor, if you like, yet we were happy though there were times when there wasn't enough to eat." Reminded of the necessity of eating, he spooned up soup and tasted it. "This is really excellent. I'm hungry, no doubt, and that always helps. But excellent by any measure."

Tansy made him a little seated bow, her long black hair gleaming in the candlelight.

"We lived there quite contentedly, and brought up our sons. One day five of the leading citizens called on us. They talked about conditions in town, and crop failures-the corn crop, particularly, because it had failed disastrously that year. To tell you the truth, I couldn't imagine what they were getting at. Neither could Nettle, I'm sure. They had never shown any regard for our opinions in the past; and if they wanted our advice, I at least had little to give. There was Marrow, who has been one of our leading men from the beginning, and His Cognizance Patera Remora, and three more. I could name and describe the others, but it would mean nothing to you.

"They had been given a way to return someone to this Long Sun Whorl, or thought they had. Our own lander would have made that possible and even easy, of course, if only it had not been looted of nearly everything that permitted it to fly the moment it put down; but it had been, and was beyond repair. Silk had been our leader until we went into the tunnels. I ought to have said that."

"Good Silk!"

He nodded, his face serious. "He was. He was the greatest man I've known, and the best. It is said that not many great men are good men; but Silk was, and had a way of making even bad people like and trust him that I've never seen in any other man."

After giving her husband a timid glance, Tansy ventured, "I wish we'd known him."

"I wish you had too. I knew him, as I said, and it was one of the principal matters of my life. Nettle and I even wrote a book about him." He sipped more soup. "When we left, he was calde of Viron. Can you tell me what happened?"

"Not in any detail," Hound said. "He was forced out of office. I wish my father were still alive to tell you about it. He knew more about it than Tansy and I do."

She said, "We were children then. It was-I don't know. Ten years ago? Or twelve? About that."

Hound nodded. "He wanted everyone to get on the landers and wanted to go himself, or he said he did. He kept telling people they ought to leave, and taking cards out of circulation. Nobody liked that. There were protests and riots, a lot of trouble. I know a lot of people wanted him arrested and tried, but I don't think it was ever really done. He was an augur, after all."

"He was married," Tansy objected. "Mother still talks about it. She doesn't like it."

Pig coughed and spat. "Nae gang ter Neat yer soup, bucky? Pity ter waste h'it."

He pushed his bowl over. "You may have it, if you'll give Oreb a bite or two. I'm full. Have you had any bread, Pig?"

"Nae, bucky. What h'about yer?"

"I'll cut you some. It will be delicious dipped in that excellent soup, I feel sure."

"There's more in the kitchen keeping hot," Tansy put in, "and in the big bowl should be hotter than what you have. Let me warm yours up, Pig."

Hound said, "I know we haven't really answered your question, Horn, but we've told you everything we remember."

"You don't know what became of Silk after he was deposed?"

Hound shrugged. "I don't think he was killed or thrown into the pits. My father would have talked about it."

Tansy ventured, "People tell stories, you know how it is. Somebody's seen him in the market somewhere, or they're living in the city under new names, Silk and his wife. Or he goes around in disguise helping people. A lot of people think he's gone outside. He was always talking about that, they say."

Nodding to himself, he passed two thick slices of bread to Pig, who said, "Thank yer, bucky."

Hound yawned. "I've seen him. I ought to tell you that, Horn. My father thought he was wonderful, so when he came here, my father held me up so I could have a good look at him. They used to sell pictures of him, too, and for a while we had one over the fireplace. It's probably still up in the attic."

"We're keeping you and your wife from bed, I'm afraid."

Tansy smiled. "It's almost morning anyway."

Hound seconded her. "We were asleep when you knocked. When the sun goes dark, there isn't much else we can do."

"Candles are very dear," Tansy explained, "and so is oil for the lamps. We used to sell them-"

"We still sell oil, but it's pricey these days."

"It's all gone now, dear. Palm bought the last yesterday."

"I'll try to get some more when I go into the city tomorrow. I was going to scout around for candles anyway. Are you two going there?"

"H'are we? We h'are! Ter find me een. Right, bucky?"

"Yes. To find eyes for Pig, and for my friend Maytera Marble back home. I was about to tell you about her a moment ago, as it happens. She's a chem. I suppose there are still a few chems left?"

Hound nodded. "Not many."

"Her eyes have failed her, and I'd like to find new ones, if I can. I was going to say that when those five called on Nettle and me, they did so because we had known Patera Silk better than almost anyone else on Blue. The sole exception to that is Maytera Marble, who knew him better than either of us; but she's very old now, and-and in need of eyes, as I said."

Pig swallowed soup-soaked bread. "Dinna fash me, bucky."

"Thank you. Yet I know it must be painful. Have either of you any idea where I might find new eyes for a chem? Any idea at all?"

Hound shook his head.

"Oddly enough, I do. Do you know where I might find a male chem?"

"There should be some in the city. It's been years since I've seen a chem here in Endroad, male or female."

Tansy murmured, "Except for the soldiers."

"That's right." Hound snapped his fingers. "Twenty or thirty soldiers went through here about, let's see, a couple months ago. They were male chems, naturally, so I was wrong. But they didn't stay and they haven't come back."

"Where bound ter?" Pig inquired.

"I have no idea. Why are you looking for a male chem?"

Oreb had a question too, and stopped demolishing the slice of bread Pig had given him to voice it. "Iron man?"

"Yes, we want to find an iron man. Let me know if you see one, please."

Tansy asked, "But why?"

"Because chems can reproduce, just as bios such as you and your husband can. It's a point I should have raised with Maytera Marble the last time I spoke with her."

Hound said, "A male and a female chem can get together and build a child. I've heard that."

"It's not like we do," Tansy protested. "They have to make the parts and put them together, so it's not the same thing. Our child's going to grow in me. That's what we hope and pray for."

"Exactly. You and Hound can make a son or a daughter for your selves. If I had time I'd look for a better word than make, but for the moment that will have to do. The point is that what you make is a child, not pieces that can be assembled to make up one. You don't make eyes, and afterward a nose, and then a heart or liver; so that even if-I hope you'll excuse this, Pig-even if there were a great surgeon sitting with us who could put new eyes into Pig's sockets in such a way that he could see again, you two couldn't make a pair of new eyes for him to use.

"Chems are made quite differently, of course. Each parent carries half the information necessary to make the parts and assemble them. Now follow me closely, please. When my friend Maytera Marble plucked out one of her eyes-both, as I say, had stopped functioning-she took it out quite easily, and she took it out as a unit. Am I making myself clear?"

Hound said, "Yes. Certainly."

"Both her eyes had gone blind; but they did not go blind at the same moment. If they had, she would have known, I feel sure, that the real trouble lay deeper and new eyes would not permit her to see again. What actually happened was that one failed first, and the other failed a short time afterward. I know that Maytera inherited certain new parts when Maytera Rose died; Maytera Rose was also a sibyl, and was the senior sibyl at our manteion at the time of her death. I do not believe, however, that either eye was among those parts. If I am correct, Maytera Marble had been using the eyes that failed her for more than three hundred years-presumably they simply wore out."

Pig put down his spoon. "Huh. Didn't try ter make herself no new ones, bucky?"

"You're ahead of me, clearly. No, I do not believe she did. If she had, she said nothing about that effort to me, and I feel sure she would have."

"She'd a' tried, h'anyhow. Yer can take such from me, an' lily, ter."

"I agree. Why didn't she at least attempt it? Surely it must have been because she didn't know how, and since new chems clearly require new eyes, they must be among the parts made by the male. If I can find a male chem, I'll try to persuade him to make eyes for her, and give them to me to take back to her."

Pig said slowly, "H'or yer could find a dead 'un, bucky, an' pluck his h'out."

"Yes, provided I can remove them without damaging them." He endeavored unsuccessfully to sit up straighter and square his shoulders. "I've no wish to end your conversation, friends, but I'm very tired indeed, and you say it will soon be shadeup. With your permission, I'd like to excuse myself."

Hound said, "Yes, certainly," and Tansy, "You can sleep in the house, if you'd rather do that. Or I can bring out some blankets for you to lie down on."

"I shall be quite comfortable wherever I lie down, you may be sure." He took three steps back from the table, sank to his knees, and stretched out on the coarse, dry grass.

Pig groped for his sword, found it, and rose. "Wi' yer, bucky. Guid night ter Nall."

"Horn," Hound asked, "would you and your friend like to go with me tomorrow?"

There was no reply.

"I'll be riding one of our donkeys, Pig, and leading the other two. You-now that I see you standing up…"

Pig's chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Nae donkey fer me, but thank yer kindly. Bucky can, an' he'll thank yer better'n Pig. Yer a buck an' a brathair."

Tansy touched Hound's elbow. "The shade's nearly up already, dear."

"I'll wait for them to get some rest," he told her. "We can camp, if we have to."

He turned back to Pig. "But there's something else we ought to talk about. You two haven't known each other long, have you?"

"Have we? We've nae. Met h'up h'on ther road ternight, we did. Yer need nae fash. Yer nae gang ter tittle naethin' what's news ter auld Pig."

"It's just…" Hound glanced helplessly at his wife. "We werewere all sitting there pretending. You and Tansy were, and I was, too. All of us except his bird."

"Good bird!" Oreb's tone declared that matter settled.

Tansy asked, "Do you really know what we know, Pig? You're not from around here."

"Aye."

"I do too. I think so. I-I know Hound better than anybody, and I could tell from the way he opened our house to you, and the way he talked. I think I could, I mean, I did. I really do."

Hound drew a deep breath. "He kept saying and saying he was looking for Calde Silk. But that's Calde Silk right there. That's Calde Silk himself, Pig. You never saw him, but people have told me he's living with his wife in the old manse, quite near here."

"Aye, laddie. Meant ter call h'on him, but he was nae ter home. Door h'open an' wife dead, layin' h'in a box. Felt a' her. Met h'up wi' him an' H'oreb Wafter. Kenned who he was an' he dinna." Slowly and heavily Pig sank to the grass. "Lucky fer Pig, yer say. Huh. Lucky fer him? Time'll say. Pig dinna ken nae more'n H'oreb there."

He lay back, his sheathed sword clasped to his chest. "Yer best ter call him Horn when he wakes. An' rouse me, will yer?"

In a moment more he was snoring. Hound and Tansy stared at each other, but found nothing to say.

He was in a boat, and there was a monster greater and more terrible than the leatherskin below it, its face showing through the long smooth swell. He opened his old black pen case, dipped a black quill into the little ink bottle and began to write furiously, conscious of how short-how terribly short-a time was left to him.

I am just setting out for Pajarocu, he wrote, knowing nothing of what is about to transpire there, not even knowing that my son Sinew has decided to track me down and go to Green with me, or that mygrand- son, Krait, the son of my daughter Jahlee, will soon join me as a son.

The scratching of the quill slowed and died. He stared at the paper. Who was Krait? He had no daughter, no sons.

To the west, a lonely bird flew over the water, black as it crossed and recrossed the sun; he knew the bird was Oreb, and that Oreb was calling, "Silk? Silk? Silk?" as he flew. The bird was too far, its hoarse voice too faint to be heard. He thought of standing and waving, of calling Oreb to him, of lighting the lantern and running it up the mast for Oreb to see, so that the leatherskin or something else in the water would come to him, would come called by his burning prayer at sunset. He thought of looking over the side at the monstrous face beneath the water, of challenging it to emerge and destroy him if it could. He did none of these things.

The boat rocked, becoming the cradle he had made for Hoof and Hide, a cradle large enough for two, so that Nettle, sitting in the sea, could rock the two together, rocking with her left hand while the right drove the quill: Enlightenment came to Patera Silk on the ball court; nothing could be the same after that. The book that they had never been able to begin begun at last, the book that lay behind his effort to make paper, behind the paper-making that had succeeded where nothing else would succeed, the paper-making that had made him the envy of his brothers and the pride of his mother, the papermaking that had been the salvation of the family.

I am just setting out for Pajarocu. Who was Pajarocu and what had he done? He crossed out the words and rewrote them: It is worthless, this old pen case. It is nothing. You mightgo around the market all day and never find a single spirit who would trade you a fresh egg for it. Yet it holds-

Enough. Yes, enough. I am sick with fancies. That was it. That was good. He reached down to turn the page so that he might begin a new one, but there was no need; the one he had written remained blank.

He stood up and shouted, but he could not recall the bird's name and the bird would not come in any case, could not hear him, remained in his pen case no matter how wildly he shouted or how loudly he waved his arms. Something with tusks and shining eyes was swimming to him, swimming east, always and forever east, in a spearstraight line from Shadelow, its wake marked already by faint phosphorescence.

He shouted until Seawrack rose from the sea to comfort him, smoothing his hair with two smooth, white hands. "It's only a dream, Horn, only a dream. If you need anyone, Hound and I are right here."

He wanted her to stay, to lie in their boat with him and comfort him, but she vanished when he tried to hold her, and it was getting dark and Green rising, a baleful jade eye. There were water bottles in the racks; but the boat was gone and the salt sea with it, the sea that was a river called Gyoll in which corpses floated, savaged by big turtles with beaks like the beaks of parrots, the river that circled with whorl, the river over which the stars never set. He had come to the end of that river, and it was too late.

He sat up. The well-remembered walls of the pit encircled him, walls marked with dank crevices opening on ruinous passages half filled with earth and stones. "It's dirt up here," a voice behind him rasped. He turned and saw Spider sitting behind him on the tumbled column, Spider in conversation with small girls in starched frocks. "It's all dirt," Spider repeated, and added, "I can tell from how it's made."

He asked politely how he could find Hyacinth.

"Down there." The blond girl pointed. "She's down there like Spider and me."

The dark girl nodded. "Down there where you're going, and she can't ever come back. Take a cake for the dog."

Spider nodded, too, saying, "It's dirt down there. I can tell from how it's made." Spider took something green from his pocket and handed it over. It was one of the crawling green lights that lined the tunnels, and it began to crawl across his palm, gleaming in the hot sunshine until he closed his fingers around it. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you very much."

"Oh, you ain't thanked me yet," Spider told him. "You'll thank me when you're down there."

He knelt and wiggled through the opening and back onto his boat, where the crawling green light he had put upon the ceiling was Green rising in the east, a baleful eye. Pig was seated in the stern, his hand upon the tiller and Oreb on his shoulder. "Good Silk," said Oreb. Pig removed the dirty gray cloth that had covered his eyes; and when it was gone, he, who had supposed that he could see, could actually see.

And Pig's big, bearded face was Silk's.

"This is really very kind of you," he told Hound when he had washed and sipped the mate Tansy made for him, "but won't we be getting a late start?"

"Yes," Hound conceded, "but it doesn't matter much. Usually I start before shadeup, as Tansy will attest, I'm sure, because she always gets up too, even though I tell her not to, and makes breakfast for me."

Tansy laughed. "I go back to bed after he leaves."

"If I have good weather," Hound continued, "and drive the donkeys for all I'm worth, there's a nice old inn in the middle of the city that I stop at. It's not too terribly expensive, and I'm right there to start my buying the next day."

"I understand."

"But even if we left this instant, we couldn't possibly reach the city before shadelow. So we'll camp along the road someplace, or stay at a country inn I know about. It's not as nice as the one I usually stay at, but it will save us a few bits, and if we rough it beside the road, that will cost nothing. Either way, we'll finish the trip tomorrow, and I'll start my trading tomorrow afternoon."

Tansy asked, "Shall I cook something now for you two, or wait till Pig wakes up?"

"Wait," Hound told her. "He'll eat more than Horn and me put together."

"Then I'd like to show Horn our shop. Can I?"

Hound looked at him, shrugging. "Do you want see it? It's very ordinary, except for being so small."

Tansy said, "But it's where we work, so it's not ordinary to us. It's ours, and the others aren't."

Their shop was on the village square, a very short distance from the little house on the edge of the village in which they lived. He stayed respectfully behind them as they mounted its three steep steps and unlocked its door.

"I don't think we'll have any customers this early," Tansy told him, "but if we do, we'll sell them whatever they've come for, and then lock up again when we go. I'll open up for the day after you and Hound and Pig leave."

"You said it was small." He paused to look around at the shiny pots and pans suspended from the ceiling, the barrels of nails and the hammers and saws hung from nails in the walls. "But it's bigger than our house on Lizard, and we raised three children in that house."

"There are rooms up above, too," Tansy told him. "My father used to rent them out. We tried to, but we couldn't find anybody who wanted them."

Hound said, "There are so many empty houses these days. Anybody who wants a house can just move in."

"So we keep the extra stock up there, and there's a bed so Mother can nap when she gets too tired. We should have brought you here last night, then you could have slept in a bed."

"My father had a shop like this in the city. I shouldn't say like this, really, because his wasn't as big. He sold paper and quills and ink, and account books and so forth."

Hound's eyebrows went up. "That might not be a bad idea for us. You can't buy paper here in Endroad. I'll see what a ream goes for in the city."

Tansy said, "Nobody here will want that much."

"Of course not." Hound's voice was brisk. "One bit for two sheets of paper and one envelope. We'll have a big bottle of ink, too, and sell it by measure."

"You couldn't sell quills here," Tansy said. "Just about everybody hunts, or keeps geese and ducks."

"Or both," Hound added. "Look at this maul, Horn. I made it myself, so it cost us nothing, and we've got it priced at nine bits, which is what you'd have to pay for a maul like this in the city. The head is elm and the handle's ash. I finished them both with pumice and flax-seed oil."

"That doesn't burn well in lamps, but it's a good polish for wood," Tansy said.

He accepted the maul and carried it to a window to admire it; and she, somewhat timidly, stepped closer and pushed up the sleeves of his plain brown tunic. "What happened to your arms?"

He glanced down at their soiled bandages. "I cut myself somehow. I want to say reaching into some brambles, because they are injuries of that sort; but I don't remember exactly how it happened."

Hound said, "Some of those look pretty nasty."

"I saw them when he took the maul," Tansy said. "I'm going to take those off and put something on the cuts, Horn, and then I'll tie them up again for you. Sometimes somebody cuts himself in here, so I keep bandages and things upstairs." She hurried to the narrow stair at the back of the shop.

He told Hound, "I'm putting you to a great deal of trouble."

"We're glad to do it." Hound took the maul and restored it to its place on the wall. "I just wish we could do more for you, and that my father could be here to help. He'd like to, I know."

As Hound spoke, Oreb swooped though the open door to perch on the handle of a scythe. "Stand up. Big man."

"Pig's awake, you mean?"

Oreb's scarlet-crowed head bobbed. "Pig up."

"In that case, we ought to rejoin him as soon as possible."

"Go shop," Oreb explained. "Bird say. Say shop. Pig go."

Hound chuckled. "You know, I'm starting to understand him. Is your friend coming to meet us here, Horn?"

He nodded, hearing Tansy's small, swift feet again upon the stairs. "I only hope he can find it."

"If he could find his way to Viron from the East Pole, he can find our shop in this village."

"Roll up your sleeves," Tansy ordered; and then, "Wait, I'll do it for you. Hold out your arm. This may hurt."

"I hope so."

She glanced up at him. "You do? Why?"

"Because I feel that I've done something wrong, that I've failed a test of some sort and deserve to be punished."

He paused, recalling the kitchen and the woman who had tied the bandages Tansy was cutting away with scissors. "Did I say something last night about not remembering when I slept last? That's incorrect; I slept in a field of new wheat. I dreamed about Nettle sitting on the beach, and trying to warn her-trying to warn somebody anyway, and failing."

"Poor Silk!" Oreb flew to his shoulder.

"Yes, poor Silk indeed, with no one but a fool like me to search for him. He may or may not need help, but every god knows New Viron and I do."

"Hold still," Tansy directed. "This isn't the first time you've hurt your arm, is it? That's an ugly scar."

At the door a new voice asked, "You say you were the only 'un lookin' for Calde Silk, stranger?"

Hound said, "Gods be, Merl. Is there something we can do for you this morning?"

"Mornin' to you 'n your wife." A spare, middle-aged man in a worn tunic of faded green stepped into the shop. "Saw your door open is all."

Tansy glanced up. "This is our friend Horn, Merl. He's cut himself, and I'm salving them for him. See how brave he is?"

"You're lookin' for Calde Silk, you says?" Merl rubbed his stubbled jaw.

"Yes, I am. Do you know where I can find him?"

"Was in the old manse, only nobody hardly seen him there."

"Can you tell me where that is?"

Oreb fluttered dolefully. "No go."

"Well, I could right enough. Only he's not there no more. Not now, anyhow." Merl drew himself up. "You seen these men that got their heads all wrapped up, Hound? They got shawls or somethin' tied around them like a woman."

Hound shook his head. "You mean here?"

"Right here in Endroad. I'm tellin' you. You see 'em, stranger?"

"No see," Oreb declared for both.

"Unless you mean my friend Pig, who ties a cloth around his head to conceal his sightless eyes, I have not."

" 'Stead of a hat's what I mean. I figure they're fixin' to kill him. They got slug guns 'n swords, 'n these here big knives." Merl pointed to a corn knife on the wall. "'Bout like that 'un, only nicer. They come to my place in the big dark of yesterday. Scared Spirea 'n Verbena to where they crawled right under the bed. Fact."

Hound asked, "How many were there?"

"There's three." Merl paused. "Foreign-lookin', 'n had foreign- soundin' names, too, to where I don't recollect 'em. Not from nowheres near here's what Myrtle says to me, 'n she had the right of it. I told how to get to the old manse, 'n I tells 'em try there. I don't know as how he's in there, I says, only you state your business with him, 'n maybe you'll find out somethin' you're needin' to know."

He asked, "Did they find him? Please, sir, this is extremely important to me."

As she knotted a clean bandage Tansy murmured, "I doubt that he knows."

"Never thought to see 'em again, I'll tell you. I did, though, just walkin' to town this mornin'. Met 'em where the road crosses. Couldn't of been a hour ago."

"Did they find Silk?" he repeated.

Merl shook his head. "Said not. Said there wasn't nobody home." Merl laughed. "They didn't like me much, I'll tell you. But I says well I told you everythin' I knew, so try in the city. They says yep, that's where they's bound for."

Hound said, "It's where I'm going with Horn here and another man, too. We've already tarried too long."

"I agree. I thank you-I can't possibly thank you and Tansy enough for all your kindness-but if these foreign men really do intend harm to Silk, I must find him first; and the one thing everyone seems to agree upon is that he isn't here."

Hesitantly, Hound asked, "You'll be going your own way, you and Pig, as soon as we reach the city? To look for Calde Silk, and for a doctor for Pig and so on?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Then I…" Hound glanced at his wife. "We'd like to give you something to remember us by, wouldn't we, Tansy?"

She looked up, and her smile rendered her small, sweet face radiant. "I was hoping to give them some food to take with them, if it's all right with you."

"Yes. Absolutely. But they'll eat it, and then it will be gone. I mean something that Horn can keep."

He said, "That certainly isn't necessary, and since I'll be traveling on foot for the most part-"

"On one of our donkeys, until we get into the city."

"I must travel light, of necessity. Really, I'd much prefer you wouldn't."

Hound ignored it. "This is what we have. What you see here. Choose anything you like."

Interested, Oreb flew up to perch on the edge of a stew pot and peck at a grater.

Hound said, "A little pan that you could cook in wouldn't weigh much, and I think you might find it comes in very handy."

Tansy added, "Or a sewing kit to mend your clothes, Horn. We have those, too, with needles and a pair of little scissors and everything, that you roll up in a cloth. You could carry it in your pocket."

He pointed. "If you're serious-and I repeat that you really needn't do this-that's what I'd like to have."

"A lantern?"

He nodded. "Last night-really it was before last night, I suppose, during what Merl called the big dark-I wanted such a lantern very badly indeed; I would have given far more than I possess for one. To get one for nothing is more than I prayed for, if you're still sure that you want to do this."

"Certainly we do. Hound can reach it down for you."

Merl whispered, "They got better 'uns in back. Those is the three-bit 'uns. Them in back's five."

"That's right," Hound said. "I'll get you one." He went to the back of the shop and returned a moment later carrying a black lantern somewhat smaller than the tin ones suspended from the ceiling. "This one's enameled, you see. It opens like this so you can light it, and once you've closed it, it will blow away before it blows out."

Merl leaned over the small black lantern, studying it as if he expected to receive it. "Thought you was out of candles."

"We are," Hound told him. "There's a candle in every lantern we sell, naturally, but we have no-"

The little shop was plunged in utter, blind darkness. "Look out," Oreb croaked warily. "Watch out."