Epiphany of the Long Sun (69 page)

"Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't. How old'd you say I am?"

She shook her head. "Since I decline to confide my age to you, it would be completely inappropriate for me to speculate on yours."

"I'm forty-eight, and that's lily. I'd say you're about thirty-three, thirty-four. If that's queer I'm sorry, but you wouldn't tell me."

"Nor will I now."

"I just want to say it goes awful fast. Life goes by awful fast. You think you know all about that now. The shag you do. I remember all kind of things that happened when I was a sprat."

"I understand, Spider. I know precisely what you mean."

"You just think you do. I've had maybe a hundred women. I wish I'd kept count, but I didn't. There was only two I didn't have to pay, and one was abram once you got to know her."

"It's quite normal for men to think women-" Maytera Mint sought for a diplomatic word. "Irrational. And for women to think men irrational as well."

"Handin' you the lily, I had to pay the other one, too. I didn't give her the gelt, but she cost a shaggy lot more. More than she was worth." Spider shot Maytera Mint a sidelong look. "I got something important to say, but I don't know how to make you believe me."

"Is it true, Spider?"

"Shag, yes! Every word.

"Then I will believe you, even if you don't believe me about the gods. What is it?"

"This isn't it. This's what I should of said back there, see? There was a time when I might of got a woman like you, but that's over. Over and done up, see? Just slipped away. Last year I met one I thought I might like and sort of shaved her a little, you know? And she shaved me back. Then she seen I was gettin' to be serious, and she just froze up. She'd look at me, and her eyes kept sayin'
too old, too old
. It goes so fast. I didn't feel like I'd got old. I still don't."

For a half-minute or more, his silence filled the tunnel.

"All right, about this buck Bison."

Maytera Mint forced herself to nod.

"I'm goin' to die. Probably it won't be very long at all. Back there where we bury, I kept hopin' they'd shoot me and I'd get to say it before I went cold, 'cause then you'd believe me. But they don't shoot like that. The way my culls got it, you're chilled straight off, so I got to say it right here. He was one of mine, see? Bison was. A dimber hand."

She could not be certain she had spoken; perhaps not.

"He was supposed to check in every night. I'd meet him, see, in this certain place. But he only come the first time, the first night."

It was possible to breathe again.

"So I sent somebody. I sent this cully we're fetchin', Sewellel. Bison, he told him he was out. He wouldn't tell you anything about us, but he wouldn't tell us anything about you, neither. That's the lily, General. That's how it was. I don't blame you if you don't believe it, and in your shoes maybe I wouldn't. But I'm goin' today and know it, and I'd like you to cap for me when I'm cold."

"Pray for your spirit." She was still trying to wrap her understanding about the fact.

"Yeah. So it's lily. I told you I wouldn't tell you who mine was, the ones you thought was yours. But he's not mine any more. That's what I'm tellin' you."

She found herself entering the guardroom again, with no memory of having resumed their walk. "Shall I go back and cut off a piece of synthetic?" she asked. "I forgot entirely that we'd need another one. If you carry Sewellel on your shoulders, you'll have blood all over you."

"I got it right here," Spider told her. He held it up.

"But I have your knife. You gave me that so…"

"I used Guan's, 'fore I wrote for him." Spider smiled, a small, sad smile heart-wrenchingly foreign to his coarse face. "It don't really take three. It don't even take two, see? I been down here by myself and buried a couple times, and that's what I do, 'cause I start by findin' the dead cull's knife."

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I'm certain you must have been the only mourner that those men had, more than once." She thrust her hands into her pockets, found his needler and her beads, and at last his knife. "Take it, please. I don't want to bury you, Spider. I won't. I want to save your life, and I'm going to try. I'm going to try very hard, and I'll succeed."

He shook his head, but she forced the rough clasp knife into his hand. "Close the door, please. I think it would be better if we didn't startle His Eminence.

Striding purposefully now, she crossed the guardroom and entered the storeroom. "I should have gone in here before," she told Spider over her shoulder. "I let His Eminence do it both times, and it was cowardly of me. This locker-I suppose that's what you call it-with the sign of addition on it in red. Is this where the stretcher's kept?"

Behind her, Spider said, "Yeah, that's it."

She turned, drawing his needler. "Raise both your hands, Spider. You are my prisoner."

He stared at her, his eyes wide.

"He may be able to see us. I can't be sure. Raise them! Hold them up before he kills you."

As Spider lifted his hands, the front of the locker swung open; a soldier stepped out and saluted, his slug gun stiffly vertical, his steel heels clashing. Maytera Mint said, "You aren't Sergeant Sand. What's your name?"

"Private Schist, sir!"

"Thank you. There's a dead man in the outer room. I take it you killed him?"

"That's right, sir."

"Take the synthetic this man's holding and wrap him-the dead man out there, I mean. Wrap the dead man's body in that. You can carry it for us."

Schist saluted again.

Spider said, "You knew he was in there all the time."

Maytera Mint shook her head, finding herself suddenly weak with relief. "I wish I were that… I don't know what to call it. That godlike. People believe I am, but I'm not. I have to think and think."

She paused to watch Schist through the doorway as he knelt beside Sewellel's corpse. "And even then I ask Bison's advice, and the captain's. Often I find they've seen more deeply into the problem than I have. I suppose it's useless to ask whether you were telling me the whole truth about Bison now. You can put down your hands, I think."

"I was, yeah." From his expression, Spider was relieved as well. "How'd you figure he was in there?"

"From the earth on the spade. There was fresh earth on the blade. Didn't you notice it?"

He shook his head.

From the guardroom, Schist announced, "I got him, sir."

"Good. You'd better walk ahead of us, Spider, and put up your hands again. There are more, you see. They could have rushed you hours ago, but they must have been afraid you'd kill His Eminence and me."

A hundred thoughts crowded her mind. "Besides, if we let you walk behind us, you might decide that your duty to Councillor Potto compelled you to run. Then this soldier would fire."

"I'd hit you, too," Schist said. "I don't miss much." He patted Sewellel's swathed corpse, slung over his left shoulder.

"Can I put my hand down to open the door?"

"Certainly," Maytera Mint told him; and Schist, "Sure."

"I ought to explain that I've spoken with Private Schist's sergeant," Maytera Mint continued as they left the guardroom. "That was on Sphixday, the day after our Caldé was rescued. His name is Sand, and he has come over to our side, to the Caldé's side, with his entire squad. Or rather, with what remains of it, because several were killed by a talus."

"I know how it feels."

"I realize you do, Spider. Neither you nor I, nor Sergeant Sand, created war. What I was going to say is that our Caldé and I, with Sergeant Sand himself and Generalissimo Oosik and General Saba, conferred upon how we might make the best possible use of Schist here and the rest. Of the few soldiers we had. It wasn't a lengthy debate, because all of us found the answer rather obvious. The soldiers knew these tunnels, and none of us did, though our Caldé had spent some time in them. Furthermore, down here they might encounter other soldiers whom they could bring over to our side. Plainly then, the best use that could be made of them was to send them back here to scout the enemy's dispositions, and augment their number if they could."

"All right, but how'd you know he was in there from the dirt on my spade?"

"It was fresh, as I said. Still somewhat damp. I asked about the grave that looked most new, and read the date on the paper, and it wasn't nearly new enough. So somebody else had been burying something. I thought of an ear, as they're called, or something of the sort, though to the best of my knowledge Sand didn't have one." She fell silent, listening to their echoing footsteps.

"Go on," Spider urged her.

"Eventually I realized that room back there was a better place. A soldier as intelligent as Sand would surely anticipate that we would stop there to eat and talk. He'd want to know what we said, since you might say something that would be of value to him. He was right, because as soon as we arrived I began asking my questions. At any rate, he had Schist hide and listen, and when we left we were going here."

Already, too soon as it seemed to Maytera Mint, they had passed beneath the great iron door, and Remora was staring at Schist. She called, "It's all right, Your Eminence! We have been rescued, and Spider is our prisoner."

The earth around Remora erupted as two more soldiers freed themselves from it.

A Piece of Pas

A
uk pounded on the door of the old manse on Brick Street with the butt of his needler. Behind him, Incus cleared his throat, a soft and apologetic noise that might have issued from a rabbit or a squirrel. Behind Incus, twenty-two men and women murmured to one another.

Auk pounded again.

"He's in there, trooper," Hammerstone declared. "Somebody is, anyhow. I hear him."

"I didn't," Auk remarked, "and I got good ears."

"Not good enough. Want me to bust the door, Patera?"

"
By no means
. Auk, my son, allow
me
."

Wearily, Auk stepped away from the door. "You think you can knock better than me, Patera, you go right ahead."

"My
knock
would be no more effectual than
your own
, my son, I feel quite confident.
Less so
, if anything. My
mind
, however, may yet be of
service
."

"Patera's the smartest bio there is," Hammerstone told the crowd, "the smartest in the whole
Whorl"
They edged forward, trying to peer around him.

Incus drew himself up to his full height, which was by no means great.
"Blessed
be this
manse,
in the
Most Sacred Name
of
Pass Father of the Gods
, in whose name
we
come. Blessed be it in the name of
Gracious Echidna, His Consort
, in those of their
Sons
and their
Daughters
alike, this day and until
Pas's Plan
attains
fulfillment
, in the name of
Scylla
, Patroness of this Our Holy City of Viron and
my own
patroness."

Hammerstone leaned toward him, reporting in a harsh stage whisper, "They stopped moving around in there, Patera."

Incus filled his lungs again. "Patera
Jerboa!
For you we have the
highest and holiest
veneration.
I
who speak am
like you a holy augur
. Indeed, I am
more
, for I am
that augur
whom Scintillating Scylla
herself
has
chosen
to lead the
Chapter
of
Our Holy City
.

"Accompanying
me
are two
laymen
who
themselves
have the greatest of claims to your
revered attention
, for they are
Auk
and
Hammerstone
, the biochemical person and the
chemical
one,
cojoined
, selected by Lord Pas
himself
to execute his will at a
holy sacrifice
at which
I
presided, this very-"

The door opened a hand's breadth, and the pale, affrighted face of Patera Shell appeared. "You-you… Are you really an augur?"

"I
am,
my son. But if
you
are
Patera Jerboa
, the augur of this manteion, you are the
wrong
Patera Jerboa, one whom we do
not
seek."

From behind Hammerstone, the foremost of Auk's followers declared, "He ain't no augur! Twig his gipon."

Incus turned back to address him, one small foot blocking the door. "Oh, but he
is,
my son. Do
I
not know
my own kind?
No mere
tunic
can deceive
me
."

"Yeah," Auk put in, "he's a augur right enough, or I never seen one. C'mere, Patera." Catching Shell's wrist, he jerked him through the doorway. "What's your name?"

Shell only stared at him with wide eyes, his mouth opening and shutting.

"He's Patera Shell, my acolyte," announced a white-bearded man who had taken Shell's place; his antiquated voice creaked and groaned like the wheel of an overloaded cart, although he wore a brilliant blue tunic intended for a young man. "I'm Patera Jerboa, and I'm augur here." His rheumy eyes fastened upon Incus, "You're looking for me. I don't hear much any more, but I heard that. Very well." Jerboa stepped through the doorway and traced the sign of addition between Incus and himself, making it both higher and wider than was currently customary. "Do what you came to, but let Shell go."

Auk already had. "You're the cull, all right. You got a Window in your manteion, Patera?"

"It would not be a manteion without one. I've-" Jerboa coughed and spat. "I've served my Window for sixty-one years. I'd…" He fell silent, sucking his gums as he looked ftom Auk to Incus and back. "Who's in charge here?"