"I doubt it. The distance from his palm to the ground must have been two or three times my height--approximately the fall Silk suffered when he drove through Hyacinth's window. Do you know about that, either of you?"

Hound said, "No."

"I won't bore you with the details, but Silk jumped out of her window and landed on flagstones, breaking his ankle. If I'd jumped from the G.o.dling's hand, I would've landed on wet ground. That might have been almost as bad--I doubt very much, however, that it could have been worse."

"S'pose h'it'd shut h'its han' h'on yer?"

Oreb squawked in dismay.

"I would've been crushed, no doubt. Still, I doubt that it could have. They move slowly. Even in the short time I talked with it, I couldn't help noticing that. Each of its fingers must weigh as much as you do. If that's correct, closing its hand entails moving the weight of four very large men."

"Bucky . . ."

He chuckled. "Oreb told me a big man was behind the house. I thought he meant you, and Hound and I had been worried about you, so I went with him. Afterward--while I was sitting in the hand--I was inclined to be angry with him for saying big man big man instead of instead of G.o.dling, giant, G.o.dling, giant, or something of that kind that would've told me what I was to encounter. Then I realized that to him we're as gigantic as a G.o.dling is to us--that Oreb sees little difference between a large man like you and a larger one like the G.o.dling because there really isn't much, from his standpoint. What could a G.o.dling do to him that you couldn't?" or something of that kind that would've told me what I was to encounter. Then I realized that to him we're as gigantic as a G.o.dling is to us--that Oreb sees little difference between a large man like you and a larger one like the G.o.dling because there really isn't much, from his standpoint. What could a G.o.dling do to him that you couldn't?"

"Would nae hurt yer, H'oreb," Pig rumbled.

"No. But neither would the G.o.dling. You and Hound thought I was very brave for talking to it as I did--"

"I still think it," Hound announced.

"But Oreb's being just as brave every time he perches on my wrist and talks with me. A wild bird wouldn't do that, and I can't blame it in the least. . . ." The birds suggested trees, immense trees like mountains and graceful fern-foliaged trees that swayed in every breeze and burned like incense; the trees, islands and continents, and smiling lakes, deep blue seas, and storm-tossed oceans.

"What yer thinkin' h'about, bucky?"

"The three whorls. Two large and low, by which I mean near the Short Sun. This one near the stars. I don't know whether Green's bigger than Blue, or Blue's bigger than Green; but both are much bigger than this whorl we're in, the Long Sun Whorl. When we came to Blue, we scarcely noticed that. I didn't notice it at all, in fact, and doubt that many of us did. Both this whorl and that one were very large places to us, and that was all that mattered; yet I would guess that Blue is ten or twenty times larger--that there's more difference in size between Blue and this whorl than between the G.o.dling and ourselves. In this whorl, Pas took care to separate us with rivers and mountain ranges. On Blue there isn't much need for that. Distance itself makes us keep our distance." He closed his eyes again, seeing league upon league of open water, and feeling the gentle rocking of his sloop.

"Horn? You said you had bad news for us. What is it?"

"Not for Pig--at least, I don't believe so. For you and me, Hound. You wanted to take your family to Green after your child was born. So it sounded. Have you changed your mind?"

"No. I--no."

"Then it's bad news, as I said. For me, too, because I must find Silk and take him home with me, and that means we must find a lander in working order and places on it. The G.o.dling told me it has been decided--I don't know by whom--that enough people have left the Whorl Whorl now, and everyone who's still on board is to remain aboard." now, and everyone who's still on board is to remain aboard."

Oreb whistled sharply.

"It came as a shock to me, as you may imagine, and I'm by no means certain it conforms to the will of Pas. When Patera Silk and the sleeper he had awakened went down to the surface of the whorl where the landers are, he saw the inscription Pas had caused to be cut into the steps. It read, 'He who descends serves Pas best.' My understanding has always been that everyone--the entire population of the whorl--is to leave it."

"Nae mair, bucky?"

"Correct. At least, according to the G.o.dling. Everyone in the Whorl Whorl is to remain. They hope to repair it." Closing his eyes again, he added softly, "That was what Echidna and Hierax wanted. It would seem they have won after all, although the G.o.dling claimed to be speaking for Patera Silk." is to remain. They hope to repair it." Closing his eyes again, he added softly, "That was what Echidna and Hierax wanted. It would seem they have won after all, although the G.o.dling claimed to be speaking for Patera Silk."

"Don't you think that it might be the divine Silk issuing these orders, Horn?"

He sat up a second time, eyes wide. "What did you say?"

"The minor G.o.d that augurs call Silent Silk? Or Silver Silk?" Hound cleared his throat. "I don't know much about your religious beliefs, Pig. . . ."

"Nae me," Pig told him. " 'Fraid ter get me wind h'up? H'all pals. Right, H'oreb?"

"Good Silk!"

Hound said, "He really is," then added hastily, "not that they all aren't. There are no bad G.o.ds. I know that."

"You're telling me that there's a G.o.d called Silk?"

"Why, yes." Hound drew his jacket more tightly about him, and edged a finger's breadth nearer the dying fire. "I thought you must know about him. You're looking for Calde Silk, and I suppose Calde Silk must have been named for him, since it's a name people can use, too. Men, I mean, or boys. It's sort of a stretch, not like Hound or Horn or Pig. But Wool's a common name." Hound fell silent, clearly afraid he was offending one or both his companions.

"Good name! Good Silk!"

"Be quiet, Oreb. Hound, I'd like to know a great deal more about this G.o.d named Silk. I haven't been here, remember."

"I shouldn't have brought him up." Hound was clearly sorry he had.

"Like ter know ter," Pig rumbled. "Yer said h'it h'ought ter be Silk's tellin'? Why sae?"

"Well, because the G.o.dling spoke to Horn, that's all, and Horn's looking for Calde Silk and . . . and it seems like there's some connection, doesn't it? Because the names are the same."

He asked, "Why do the augurs call him Silent Silk and Silver Silk, Hound? Do you know?"

"I think so. But there's a disagreement about him. I should tell you that in case you talk to other people about him. Did I call him a minor G.o.d?"

"Yes, you did."

Oreb snapped his bill in protest.

"Well, some people don't agree with that. They say he's not a minor G.o.d at all, that he's an aspect of Pas. I don't understand aspects."

Pig stirred impatiently. "S'pose he was ter gae 'round callin' himself somethin', sae folk wadna know."

Hound nodded. "I see."

"I don't like to disagree, Pig," he said, "and hesitate to in a matter of no importance. But what you're describing is a mere lie, not an aspect. The G.o.ds are known by foreign names in many foreign cities, Hound. Are you aware of it?"

"I haven't traveled, I mean like you have, or Pig. But I've heard something about it."

"It is so. Those, too, are their names; and they have as much right to them as we have to ours. There is also the matter of personality, both the kinds of persons we are at base and the way we seem to others. You have your personality; you are always Hound, whether you are kind or cruel, whether you act well or badly. Pig is always Pig, Oreb--"

"Good bird!"

"Is always Oreb, a good bird just as he says; and I'm always myself. But the immortal G.o.ds, whose powers are so much greater than ours, can incorporate many different personalities, and do. This not some special insight of mine, by the way. Merely what I was taught in the schola."

"I see," Hound said again. "You're going to say that when a G.o.d uses a new name and a new personality, that's an aspect. Isn't that right, Horn?"

He nodded. "And a new appearance. The G.o.d is still Pas, Molpe, or whoever; but this is a view of Pas or Molpe that we haven't been privileged to see before--a new aspect of Pas or Molpe. Now, why has the G.o.d called Silk been awarded the epithet Silent?"

"Because he told the Prolocutor that he looked out of the Sacred Windows without showing himself there, like Tartaros. But Tartaros generally turns them black and speaks. Silk said he didn't speak or make the window change at all, pretty often. He just looked on."

"Thank you." He yawned and stretched. "Thank you very much, Hound. Believe me, I appreciate your information more than I can say. Is everyone ready to sleep? I confess I am--more than ready."

"No sleep. Night good!"

"It may or may not be night, Oreb. We have no way of knowing, and certainly no one should feel compelled to sleep who doesn't want to."

Hound said hastily, "You don't have to lie on the bare floor, Horn. I've got a blanket you can lie on. Folded in threes, it'll be a lot more comfortable."

"Thank you," he said. "That's very kind of you; but what we really need is firewood, I'm afraid. It's certainly getting cooler. I'll go outside and look for some, if both of you will promise to remain in here."

Pig prepared to rise. "Be ter wet ter burn, bucky."

"He's right," Hound told him. "You could catch pneumonia if you went out there again, and it would be for nothing."

"Dry, we need, bucky." Laboriously, Pig stood up. "Here's ther lad ter fetch h'it, ter. Dinna yer gae wi'."

"Pig--"

The long sword was only half drawn from its bra.s.s-tipped scabbard, but the swift hiss of the steel was like the hiss of a coiler big enough to crush and devour five men at once. Oreb squawked with dismay.

"I wasn't going to try to stop you, Pig--nor was I going to insist on going with you."

"Guid h'on yer, bucky." Pig grinned as the sword shot back into its scabbard. "Get yer rest while auld Pig tears h'up boards ter warm yer."

They sat in silence, watching Pig's broad back vanish into the surrounding gloom; then Hound said, "I'll get that blanket," and proceeded to do so.

"That is your bedding, Hound, and I decline to deprive you of it. I slept in a field night before last."

"I've got another one for myself." Hound smiled. "You ought to know me better than that by now. You'd give another man your only blanket and think nothing of it, I know. But I wouldn't. Neither would Pig."

"Good Pig?" Oreb was puzzled.

"Yes, Oreb. Pig is a good man--an extraordinarily good man, I'm sure. One who might give someone else his only blanket, unless I miss my guess."

Hound looked up from the pack from which he was extracting a second blanket. "Well, most men wouldn't."

"Of course not. That's why I said that Pig, who might, was an extraordinarily good man--among other reasons. It wasn't a tactful thing to say, I suppose, particularly while I was preparing to lie down on a blanket you loaned me; but it wasn't intended as criticism of you--far from it. May I say something personal, Hound? Without giving offense?"

Refolding his blanket, Hound nodded. "I wish you would."

"Very well. If you'd had only one blanket, you might have discovered something extraordinary about yourself. It would've surprised you, I believe; but it wouldn't have surprised me."

Hound did not reply until he had arranged his own blanket before the fire. "You said something personal to me, Horn, and it was very flattering. Can I say something like that to you? You won't think it's flattering, or I don't think you will. I'd rather that you didn't get too angry."

"Watch out!" Oreb exclaimed.

Oreb's master reached out to stroke him, smoothing the glossy black feathers with gentle fingers. "Which of us are you warning, Oreb?"

"You, I'm sure. He thinks I'm going to involve you in some sort of--of plot against Pig. I'm not."

"Good."

"I simply wanted to say that I like you. I like you a lot. So does Tansy. Pig . . ."

"Yes?"

"Never mind." Hound lay down upon his side, looking at the fire. "I talk too much. It isn't my only fault, but it's the worst one and the hardest to stop. Good night, Horn."

"Please. What you were going to say may be very important. I mean that. You asked my permission to say it, and received it. I want to hear it. I ask it as a favor."

"You said you were going to tell us what the G.o.dling told you to do, but you never did. Just that you weren't going to do it. What about that?"

"Did I? It wasn't intentional. If I tell you now, will you tell me what it was you were going to say about Pig? I'm perfectly sincere about its importance to me."

"All right. What was it the G.o.dling wanted you to do?"

"Go all over the city announcing that no one else is to leave--that they are to rebuild the tunnels beneath it, and to repair the remaining landers, if they can."

"But not use them?"

"Correct."

Hound waited for him to say more; but he did not, and at length Hound asked, "Did the G.o.dling tell you why?"

"In order that the Whorl Whorl can be re-launched. I confess I don't understand how such a thing is possible, but then I don't understand how it was launched originally either." can be re-launched. I confess I don't understand how such a thing is possible, but then I don't understand how it was launched originally either."

There was a second lengthy silence, which lasted until Hound ventured, "It's the will of the G.o.ds, I suppose."

"Perhaps it is. The G.o.dling didn't say so, but it may be--it's quite probable."

Oreb croaked; it was difficult to tell whether it was a croak of sympathy or a croak of skepticism.

"Aren't you going to do it, Horn? That's what you said."

"I know." Stretched on his back upon the borrowed blanket, he fingered his beard. "I said it because it's true. I'm not. I won't repeat what I said before, except to add that size and strength confer no moral authority. A strong man--Pig, for instance--may compel us to obey him; but we're ent.i.tled to resist if we can."

"No fight!" Oreb advised.

"Tell it to the strong man. You're a wise bird and a good talker, but you're talking to the wrong person."

"But the G.o.ds . . ." Hound's voice faded away.

"The G.o.ds possess moral authority, granted. Great Pas, particularly, possesses it; and in fact the rest have it only because he accords it to them. If a G.o.d were to--but if if is a children's word. No G.o.d has spoken to me. What were you about to say about Pig?" is a children's word. No G.o.d has spoken to me. What were you about to say about Pig?"

"Horn . . ."

He could not see Hound's face from where he lay, or much of anything other than Blood's domed and painted ceiling, writhing figures less than half illuminated by the flickering firelight; but Hound sounded alarmed.

"Horn, you ought to at least consider obeying, even so. I mean, a G.o.dling . . . They don't talk to us much, but most people accept that they're relaying the G.o.ds' orders whenever they do. Everybody I know does. Didn't you promise?"