"Weeping, you mean. So you are, but Hound and I are not laughing."

"Guid a' yer." Pig sighed deeply and wiped his nose on a sleeve already phenomenally dirty. " 'Tis h'all, bucky. Ther lot a' h'it."

"No, it isn't. Not quite, and it will always be unfinished-- incomplete--unless you tell the rest. Unless you do it now. It cannot be postponed any longer."

"Horn . . ." Hound gripped his arm.

"I'll address your concerns in a few minutes," he said. "They can wait, believe me. Go on, Pig."

"Somethin' tetched me." Pig sounded as though he had forgotten anyone was listening. "Had me een."

"Yes. Of course."

"Touched me shoulders an' me head, like h'it were standin' behind. Looked h'around. Wasn't nae thing there."

"And then . . . ?"

"Felt h'it, bucky. What yer said. Wanted ter feel h'it h'allways, but nae felt h'it nae mair."

"And you were changed, somewhat, after that. You found yourself doing things that surprised you."

"Aye."

From his shoulder, Oreb muttered, "Good Silk."

"This has been a shriving, Pig. I didn't announce it but it has been. I'm a layman, as I said; but a layman may shrive when there is need. I'd like you to kneel now. I know you don't like to, but you shouldn't withhold from the Outsider--it was he who touched you from behind, I'm sure--the obeisance you pay so many doors. Will you kneel?"

"Think he might gi'e back me een?"

"I have no idea. Will you kneel?"

Pig did.

"Good. That was the worst hurdle, the one I feared we could not get over." A swift gesture sent Hound to the front of the manteion. "Now say what I say. Cleanse me, friend. Cleanse me, friend."

Dutifully, Pig repeated it.

"You don't like to say I, I, do you, Pig? I mean the p.r.o.noun, not the do you, Pig? I mean the p.r.o.noun, not the aye aye that signifies a.s.sent. Is it a superst.i.tion?" that signifies a.s.sent. Is it a superst.i.tion?"

"Dinna sound weel h'in ther light lands," Pig muttered.

"Impolite? Then you may say, 'for the Outsider and other G.o.ds have been offended by me.' After that you must recount to me everything you have done that was seriously wrong, other than the looting and murder you have already described. Oreb, you must stay with Hound until I call you both."

At the rear of the manteion, Hound had watched the kneeling Pig (so huge that even on his knees he was nearly as tall as the erect man in the worn brown tunic) until embarra.s.sment rendered it impossible.

"Man talk," Oreb explained, lighting on the back of the pew in front of Hound's. "Talk Silk." He whistled to emphasize the importance of that talk, and added, "Bird go. Go Hound."

Hound nodded absently. Statues of the Nine still stood in niches along the walls. Who was that with the owl, he wondered? Some were only minor G.o.ds, he felt certain. Since there were more than nine statues, they had to be. He had always dismissed the minor G.o.ds as unimportant; for the first time it occurred to him that he was unimportant as well, and the important G.o.ds like Echidna (over there, holding up a viper in each hand) might concern themselves with important men and things. "Echidna, and Molpe with the thrush. But who's that with the doves?"

"Man talk," Oreb repeated in a different context.

"To myself," Hound said. "I was trying to name these G.o.ds, that's all."

One of the murmuring voices at the front of the manteion rose to intelligibility. "Then I bring to you, Pig, the pardon of the G.o.ds. In the "Then I bring to you, Pig, the pardon of the G.o.ds. In the name of the Outsider, you are forgiven. In the names of Great Pas and name of the Outsider, you are forgiven. In the names of Great Pas and Silver Silk, you are forgiven. And in the name of all lesser G.o.ds you are Silver Silk, you are forgiven. And in the name of all lesser G.o.ds you are forgiven, by the power entrusted to me." forgiven, by the power entrusted to me." A quick gesture described the sign of addition over Pig's bowed head. A quick gesture described the sign of addition over Pig's bowed head.

Hound went to rejoin them, watching the huge Pig rise and straighten his shoulders. When Pig's blind face turned toward the noise of his shoes on the cracked stone floor, he said, "I didn't hear any of that. I think I ought to tell you so, Pig. I tried not to hear, and I didn't. I was way at the back, and you both spoke softly."

"H'all right h'if yer did," Pig said. " 'Struth, bucky?"

"Why, no." He shook his head. "Neither of you are correct. Hound, you heard a part of what Pig said about looting the town in the Mountains That Look at Mountains. You also heard me say that what Pig had told me was part of a shriving, although it had not been so announced at the time."

Hound nodded.

"You may be concerned about your duty as a citizen and a member of the Chapter. Nevertheless, you must understand where your duty lies. Whenever anyone, whether an augur, a sibyl, or a layperson, overhears part of a shriving by accident, that person is honor bound to reveal nothing that he--or she--has heard. He is not to hint at it or allude to it in any way. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes." Hound nodded again. "You certainly are."

"Then let me say this. I've said it already to Pig, but I want to say it to you. You know, just as Pig and I do, what was said earlier; and we're none of us children. For an augur to die before his Sacred Window, and particularly for him to die by a steel blade as sacrifices die, is a great honor. It is the death every augur yearns for. I don't intend to imply that it isn't wrong to kill an augur under those circ.u.mstances; but when an augur dies in such a manner, other augurs and many pious laymen must wonder whether that death was not arranged by Hierax, as a reward."

Pig said, "Hierax is dead."

Hound stared at him.

"I see. I didn't know that, though I surmised that it might be the case. No doubt it's for the best."

"Horn?"

He nodded. "Yes. What is it?"

"Before we leave--" Hound began. "Are you worried about getting into the city late? You said you wouldn't go to the Juzgado till tomorrow."

"I would like to revisit the quarter in which I used to live this afternoon. But no, I'm not. Not unless whatever you're about to propose will take hours."

"Fifteen minutes or half an hour, I hope. While . . ."

Thick with muscle and armed with thick black nails, Pig's hand engulfed Hound's shoulder. "H'out wi' h'it, mon. H'all pals."

Hound nodded gratefully. "While I was back there in the back, I was trying to name the G.o.ds. The . . . These images." He indicated them by a gesture. "You know a lot about them. I've seen that already. Tansy saw it, too. Anyway, I couldn't, or only a few. I was hoping you'd take me around and talk a little about each of them? It would give me something to tell Tansy. And Mother. I'd like it myself, too, if it would be all right with Pig."

"Silk talk?" Oreb fixed him with a bright black eye.

"Ho, aye. Do h'it, bucky. Like ter hear yer meself."

"Very well." He glanced around at the images set into the walls. "Where do you want me to begin?"

"Well, that one." Hound pointed to the nearest. "It's Phaea, isn't it?"

"Yes, you're quite correct. Phaea's one of the Seven, Pas's fourth daughter. Now that think of it, we couldn't have begun at a more appropriate place, since we hope to find new eyes for a man called Pig, and I'm carrying seed corn to Blue. Feasting Phaea's the G.o.ddess of healing, and of foodstuffs generally. She presides over banquets and infirmaries alike. You can generally recognize her images by the boar at her side."

"Yes," Hound said eagerly. "That's how I got it."

"Then I ought to add that when the boar is absent Phaea is customarily shown holding a young pig, that when the piglet is omitted as well you may know her by her thick waist, and that she is the generous patroness of cooks and physicians. Is that sufficient?"

Hound nodded. "I couldn't get this next one at all. Who is she?"

"Let me ter feel a' her." Pig's thick fingers brushed the top and sides of the image and explored the area about its feet. "Wearin' a helmet, hain't she bucky?"

"Yes, she is. A helmet with a low crest." He bent closer examining the statue. "I was about to say that the customary lion was absent, which was why you were unable to identify her, Hound--but that isn't actually the case. She wears a medallion with a lion's head, though it is too small to be distinguished at any distance. Pig, who has been a trooper, knew her by her helmet, of course; but I believe he feared--needlessly--that I might take offense if he named her before I did. She is Sphigx, the youngest of the Nine."

Hound stepped nearer to look at the medallion. "I'm glad she's still here. A lot of her statures were smashed when we were fighting Trivigaunte."

"This may be a replacement--it looks a little newer than the others. If so, that's very likely the reason her lion was reduced to a bit of jewelry. The augur here may have hoped that vandals would take her for a minor G.o.ddess."

"Good G.o.d?" Oreb inquired.

His master shrugged. "I wouldn't say so, but she's no worse than the Seven as a whole. She's reputed to be brave, at least, and in the course of my life I've found that people who possess one virtue usually have several. One can imagine an individual who's admirably brave, yet grasping, unscrupulous, drunken, envious, cruel, lewd, violent and all the rest of that sad catalogue; but one never actually meets with such a monster--or at least, I haven't."

Pig said, "Thank yer kindly, bucky."

He was taken aback. "You can't mean that seriously. I haven't known you long, but no one who's been in your company for an hour could suppose you were a ma.s.s of vices. You're generous, kind, and good-natured, Pig; and I could easily rattle off a dozen more virtues--patience and tenacity, for example."

"Guid a' yer."

Hound cleared his throat and seemed almost to choke. "I want to say that Horn speaks for me, too. I couldn't have said it as well as he did, but I feel the same way." There was an embarra.s.sed silence.

"Shall we go on to the next? I'm anxious to get to it, I admit."

"The woman holding the snakes? I wanted to ask something else about Sphigx, but I've forgotten what it was."

"She's actually a rather interesting figure. When I was a boy, I considered her the least attractive of the Nine, and there's some truth in that; but she's by no means the least complex. One can think of her as the mirror image of her sister Phaea. If that is the case, then Phaea is Sphigx's mirror image as well, which makes her the G.o.ddess of peace. The t.i.tle suits her even though she doesn't get it, at least in Viron."

Pig touched Sphigx's image again, finding the medallion. "They fight, bucky? Sounds like they h'ought ter."

"No." Leaning on his staff, he studied the image. "Despite the swords she holds, Sphigx is not merely the G.o.ddess of war, as I should have made clear. She also governs obedience, courage, watchfulness, and hardihood--all of the virtues that a trooper must have, even cleanliness and order. I mentioned that Phaea was the physicians' G.o.ddess, the G.o.ddess of healing. I used to know a Doctor Crane from Trivigaunte--this was before they went to war with us. He was a tough, brave little man; and he would tell us in no uncertain terms how much a good diet and clean hands have to do with health and healing. We have need of both Phaea and her sister, you see. One way to put that is that they need each other."

Straightening up, he turned back to Hound, smiling. "Have you remembered what you wanted to ask?"

Hound shook his head.

"Then I have a question for you. When you said that many of Stabbing Sphigx's images had been smashed, I a.s.sumed you meant by angry Vironese who saw them as symbols of Trivigaunte. A moment ago, it occurred to me that the vandals might have been Trivigauntis themselves. Statues like this are prohibited in the City of Trivigaunte and its territories, supposedly by her order, as are pictures of her; and I suppose that a deeply religious Trivigaunti might be tempted to destroy them wherever she found them. Was that what happened?"

"Mostly in the city, I think. In the Grand Manteion."

Pig chuckled. "Both sides breakin' 'em?"

Hound nodded with a rueful smile. "I'd heard that about the Trivigauntis, I suppose because they did it there. And I hoped Horn could tell us why they wanted to. That was what I was meaning to ask, what I forgot for a minute. Can you, Horn?"

He stared off into the dimness of the shuttered manteion, where a single bar of sunlight had stabbed the dusty air.

"Silk talk!"

"Oreb means me, I'm afraid." He turned back to them. "Who am I to resist a bird's demands? They wanted to because they thought it was what their G.o.ddess wanted, of course; but you understand that, surely. The real questions are whether she did, and if so why she did." He fell silent again, his clear blue eyes lost in thought.

"If she did not, then her supposed demand is presumably a lie put forth by the Chapter of Trivigaunte--whatever it's called--or the Rani's government. If that is the case, they probably say what they do to separate their people more firmly from those of other cities. Have I mentioned that there is a Trivigaunti town south of New Viron? There is."

Hound said, "I didn't know that."

"There's been a certain degree of mixing, which some on both sides have sought to prevent--Trivigaunti women marrying Vironese, and Vironese women marrying Trivigaunti men."

"Feel sorry fer ther four," Pig said.

"So do I, in a way; yet I doubt that they're much more--or much less--discontented than other couples.

"At any rate, their custom of refusing to picture the G.o.ds clearly isolates the people of Trivigaunte. This manteion would appear blasphemous to them; more importantly, so would the home of any pious person in Viron. My friend Auk, who was what is called a common criminal though he was an uncommon man, had a picture of Scylla tacked to his wall. But I am drifting away from the subject.

"If Sphigx herself issued the prohibition, I think it most likely she acted from pride or shame. She may have felt that no representation we could make could do her justice. I have seen Kypris--"

Pig's hand closed upon his elbow, its thick, pointed nails almost painful.

"Long ago, and I would defy any artist to picture a woman equally lovely. Silk's wife, Hyacinth, was dazzlingly beautiful as a young woman--but even she was not as beautiful as that."

Pig's grip relaxed.

"Or Sphigx may be ashamed of her followers, or of accepting worship at all. None of the other G.o.ds seems to feel like that, yet it would be much to their credit if they did."

Hound stared at him. "But . . ."

"But they are the G.o.ds. Is that what you would like to say? That's true. They are our G.o.ds--here, at least--and if they demand our worship, we must give it to them or perish. Do you see that niche over there?"

"Yes," Hound said. "It's empty."

Oreb croaked harshly, and his master went to it. "There is a sense in which you're wrong. In that sense, it is the Outsider's. Pig, do you want to put your hand in it? It will do you no harm."

"Nae."

"Good. Hound, do you understand why this empty niche is the Outsider's? Why it is his now, although it may originally have been intended for one of the Nine? Possibly even for Pas?"

"Because no one knows what he looks like? I think you said something about that once."

"That's one reason, at least, though there are others. I don't mean that he is as the women of Trivigaunte believe Sphigx to be. There is no harm in our trying to make pictures of him, in showing him as a wise and n.o.ble man, for example, or as the night sky we see on Blue, a great darkness spangled with points of light. There's no harm, that is to say, unless we come to believe that he actually looks like the thing we've pictured. Then this representation is best."

Hound drew a deep breath. "But this is the way they show Sphigx!"