I went over so I could look inside, and the bird sat on my shoulder. It was about the first time he was that friendly, and I was not so sure I liked it. I am still not sure.

Only it was not as easy as we thought it was going to be. The lid stuck and I had to kneel down at the other end and wrestle with it. The boy could see me then and hear me too, and I could see he felt better about that. It told me something about the way we were in the Red Sun Whorl that I had not known before. We got more real there when we did things with people who were really there. When we did not, we got less real, even to each other.

Maybe even to ourselves, but I am not sure about that.

Just the same, I think that when Father wanted to bring us back that was what he did. He thought about us, and not at all about the Red Sun Whorl, and somehow, by what he said and the way he acted, he made us think that way, too.

We got the lid off after a lot of fooling around. We thought for a while there might be some kind of secret catch, but it was just stuck. There were metal corners on the box part and on the lid, and they had rusted together. When they came loose, the girl got a lot more real and even pushed us away. Her face was just terrible. It was like the only thing in the whole whorl she wanted was inside the coffin.

Maybe it was, but she did not get it right then. There was a casket (I guess that is what you call it) inside all soldered out of sheet lead. The boy had a little knife and he cut the lead for her, along the big end and down both sides. We grabbed hold of it then and were able to peel it back.

There was not much inside, just some dirt and hair and old bones, and a little jewelry. Not much. I thought the boy would take the rings and so forth, but he did not. After I had seen the inside I looked back up at the girl to see what she thought of it, and she said, "I died young. It can't have been long after I was scanned for the Whorl. Whorl." She was talking to Father then, not to me, and she had stopped talking like his bird.

He opened his hand all the way. It got so bright it hurt my eyes. The bird has this thin filmy sort of eyelid he uses in bright sun, and next time I looked at him he had it.

Then Father said, "I imagine so, Cilinia." From the way he said it, you knew it was the last thing he would ever say to her. I wish I knew how to do that with my voice. I have tried it, but for me it never sounds right.

Father had gotten a lot solider-looking when the light got bright. I do not know about me and the bird, I was not paying much attention to us just then, but the girl got all wispy.

After that, she went. It was like she was water in a bowl, and the dirt in the lead casket was the ground, and somebody we could not see was pouring her out. Maybe the light was.

When she was gone, Father closed his hand again. The boy wanted to know if he should put the lid back. Father said yes, and, "I can't say what may happen if you open it again. Probably nothing. Still, I advise you not to."

The boy said he would not. He screwed the lid back down, which did not take nearly as long as it had to get it off, and we shoved it back in the corner again.

When it was done, the bird said, "Bad thing. Bad girl." You could tell it was not quite sure she was gone.

I thought that was funny and said something about it to Father, and he said, "Nor am I. Back on Blue, she may possess Oreb just as she did; and in fact, I think it more likely than not, though I hope I am wrong."

After that we went back outside. It was practically night, what old people call shadelow, the time when there are shadows everyplace. There was a great big rosebush growing right by the door of the stone building with about a hundred purple roses on it. I had not noticed the smell when we came in, or anyway I do not think I did. But when we went out I noticed it a lot. The night seemed to bring it out, and it was almost like it followed us. Maybe we got it on our clothes. It was sweet but heavy, the kind of smell you like at first, but after a little while it makes you tired. Now, just about anytime I smell anything like that I think about the girl, and the dirt that was inside the lead box. She was right at the mean stage a lot of girls get in, but she would probably have gotten over it when she got older. She might have turned out to be a pretty nice person after all.

While we were walking, the boy told Father he wanted him to see his dog. He said he had wanted to show it to him the last time Father was here, but Father had not gotten to see it, so could he show him now? Father said sure.

That got me to thinking about what we were doing now instead of the girl and whether she had really gone away. I mean died, because that is what it was, I know. So I asked if we were just going back to the tower to see this dog, and I said that if that was all it was maybe it would be better for us to go home.

Father said, "We've accomplished the task we set out to do, but the most difficult part of our trip remains, my son. We must persuade--or force--Juganu to return with us."

I wanted to say, "Don't you think Juganu will want to go?" but that would have been dumb because I could see from what he had said that he did not. So I said, "You told him what would happen if he didn't."

Father did not say anything. If you asked him a question that really was a question he just about always answered some way, I think because he was so polite. But if you just said something like that to show you would like to know something, pretty often he did not say anything back. By that time I knew all about that so I did not do it very often anymore.

The boy said, "Do you want to look for your friend first, or see Triskele?"

"Both," Father told him.

After that, n.o.body said anything until we got to the little gate. Then the boy knocked and called out, "We are returning, Brother Porter!"

That was the torturer at the gate, a big fat man with a big sword. He stared at us through the little window, and it was the first time it soaked through to me that I should have had a black robe and a sword too, like Father had helped Juganu make.

So I made them as fast as I could while he was looking at me, and it was probably a mistake. The sword was not sharp, for one thing, and the robe was really just kind of a black sheet tied around my neck, and I still had on the tunic that Mother had made for me back home. Brother Porter opened the gate for us anyway, but he was trembling so bad that Father stayed behind to talk to him and sort of tell him it was all right.

The boy and I went on. Father made a little motion to say we ought to, and I think that was right, because the boy helped me with my robe and I found out I could make my sword sharp by pinching my fingers together and running them down the edge. I tried to make my tunic go away, too, but it would not, so the boy showed me how to pull my robe together and keep it that way, the way a real torturer would. We went back in the tower after that and down into the Juzgado part, because I had asked the boy if there were women torturers, and he said no. So I was pretty sure that was where Juganu would be. I thought maybe I could find him and get him to go back, and that would save a little time. Besides the boy said it was where his dog was.

Pretty soon we heard Juganu's voice. It was noisy down there, with somebody yelling or screaming all the time. But in a way it was quiet, too, because n.o.body was listening. When somebody talked the way Juganu did, just the way a person usually does so that somebody else will hear him and understand what he said, it sort of stood out. We went to the room he was in and looked through a little window pretty much like the one in the gate, and he was in there with a nice-looking woman.

She had big eyes that looked like they cried a lot, only she did not look like she was going to cry any more ever just then, if you know what I mean. She looked like life was just so wonderful there in her little room that she loved the whole whorl and nothing could ever make her unhappy again. She looked up at me when I tapped on the door with my sword, but then she looked back at Juganu like looking at anything else was just a big waste of time.

When we had gone out to the cemetery that they called the necropolis, Father and I had just walked though the wall, the bird and the girl flew over, and the boy had climbed it where it had fallen down. And I had been thinking it would probably have been better if we had come back the same way and not gotten the fat man all upset. So right then I tried to see if I could just walk through that door, too, without Father there to tell me how. I tried, and I did it. It worked fine.

There was something funny about being in there just the same. I kept thinking about what if it did not work fine when I tried to go out? What if it did not work at all? I thought about being locked in there like the woman with the big eyes, and never seeing daylight, and what did Father need me here for anyway? He could have left me on the boat with Babbie. When I told the others about that, we all laughed. But it was not funny then. It was hard to keep from turning right around and going out, one of the hardest things I have ever done.

Juganu wanted to know what I wanted, but I think he knew. I said it was time to go, and she cried and held on to him. He said, "Are you saying that we're going to leave this moment? Where's the Rajan?"

So I explained about the dog and said that we would just go down and look at it because the boy wanted us to, and Father would be along soon to see it, and then we were leaving.

He did not say anything to that for a minute. Then he said, "I have to think."

Just then I heard a new voice through the little window in the door. I turned and looked, and it was a man I had not seen before. A big, heavy man with a big heavy face had hold of the boy. He was telling him to come along, and from the way he said it, it sounded like the boy was in for a whipping. The boy said, "I will, Master. I'm sorry, Master. I meant no harm."

Then the bird came yelling, "Watch out! Watch out!" like it did sometimes. The big man stopped to look at it and said, "What's that doing in here?"

"It belongs to Master Malrubius, Master," the boy told him, and the big man he called Master hit him across the face. He did not do it like he was angry with him or anything. He did not sneer either. He just did it, the way you would swat a fly. Then Father came up behind him and put his hand on his shoulder. He turned around and saw Father, and his mouth dropped open. He did not say anything, just backed away. I think he must have run after that, but there was so much noise I could not be sure.

Juganu stayed with the woman with the big eyes, and Father and I and the bird went down to see the dog. It was dark, and there was mud your feet sank into, but a solid floor underneath. The boy said the dog had been hurt and it was better that it was there in the dark because it could rest then and get well. I was not so sure. It was pretty damp.

The dog had blankets though, old torn blankets and lots of rags, and it had tunneled into them and made a little nest for itself. That was good, because it had short hair that did not look warm. Its head was as big as a bull's without the horns, and its mouth could have held my head and bitten down on it like a cherry. I know because it opened its mouth when we came. I think it was saying it was glad to see us. The boy had bread and meat in his pocket. It did not seem like much, but he gave it to the dog and said he would come back with more. It stood up for a minute when he patted its head. It was so big through the chest that it seemed like there was something wrong with it, but I think it was just strong.

What was wrong was that its front leg was gone. The boy had bandaged it where it had been cut off, but blood had soaked through. That dog had been hurt in a lot of other places, too. The boy took the bandages off, and he and Father talked about what to do. I could see that the dog was afraid of Father and liked him at the same time. It lay down again and put its head by his feet and looked up at him and trembled a little. Father said the boy knew a lot more about treating wounds than most people did, and they talked about a woman he had known who got her arm cut off. It did not mean anything to me then.

The boy put new bandages on after that, and we went back. Juganu would not come out of the woman's room, so we went in to talk. Father told him he had to come with us or he would die. Juganu said, "I'm going to stay with Tigridia and free her."

"Free, she'll have you exorcised," Father told him. He took his arm and Juganu went for him. I think he would have choked him to death if I had not been there. He was ten times stronger than he had been when I had pulled him off the mast back on our boat. The woman got in it, and we had a real fight going until the boy ran off and got the key to her room.

Then we went back, Father and me, Juganu, and the bird. When we woke up in Capsic.u.m's house, Juganu just fixed his face and went out. He never said a word to us. We watched to see if he really left the house, and he did. I think he was afraid we would kill him, and I would have if Father had not stopped me.

After that, Hide and Vadsig came with Mother from Lizard for the wedding, so this is everything I have got to write about, the things that I was the only one to see. I will let them and Daisy do the rest. I will criticize like they have been doing to me.

20.

THE W WEDDING.

W ijzer gave the bride. Her dress was a simple one of white silk with a white lace veil, but her pearls and her beauty set the manteion buzzing. Gyrfalcon came, with an armed bodyguard of twenty men. If he had not, things would almost certainly have gone very differently, and we would not be writing this. ijzer gave the bride. Her dress was a simple one of white silk with a white lace veil, but her pearls and her beauty set the manteion buzzing. Gyrfalcon came, with an armed bodyguard of twenty men. If he had not, things would almost certainly have gone very differently, and we would not be writing this.

Nothing of that was known, of course, when Wijzer led her to the altar. What was known, and to half the town, was that a family that had never been considered prominent other than as the source of The Book of the Long Sun The Book of the Long Sun (a chronicle, generally factual, of events prior to the founding of New Viron) was now conceded to be very prominent indeed in politics and religion. Nettle, particularly, was courted by women who had previously scarcely deigned to speak to her; few, if any, dared ask whether the man a.s.sisting His Cognizance was in fact her husband. (a chronicle, generally factual, of events prior to the founding of New Viron) was now conceded to be very prominent indeed in politics and religion. Nettle, particularly, was courted by women who had previously scarcely deigned to speak to her; few, if any, dared ask whether the man a.s.sisting His Cognizance was in fact her husband.

He himself seemed happier than anyone had seen him before. At the bride's request, he read the second victim, a waterhorse. Everyone expected the usual plat.i.tudes.

Seconds built minutes, piling up like grains of sand. The whispered conversations fell away, and still he stood staring at the entrails of the snow-white victim he himself had provided.

"Mysire . . . ?" the bride whispered.

Startled, he looked up. "I'm sorry. There is a great deal here."

Another minute pa.s.sed.

"His Cognizance was good enough to permit this," he said when his gaze left the carca.s.s of the waterhorse at last. "It may have been a mistake, as such things are commonly counted."

Everyone present sensed that he was inviting them to silence him, but no one attempted to.

"I see the hand of a G.o.d in it," he told them, "and since this victim was offered to the Outsider, we can a.s.sume that it is his. That being the case, I take this opportunity to tell you that he is the G.o.d of Blue. Have you never wondered who it is? We have other G.o.ds here already. There is a Scylla greater than the one we knew, for example. You should fear and respect--but not worship--her, lest you come to ill."

One of the wedding guests called out, "Pas!"

"He is not yet here, or at least, I do not believe he is. He will come, however. You or others like you will bring him, and Silk with him--Silk, whom you sent me to bring and whom I failed to bring."

He paused, regarding those who heard him through an eye that very few could meet. "They will come. But never forget what I tell you today: you belong to Blue, and to the Outsider."

He studied the carca.s.s. "No doubt His Cognizance has often said here that one side of the victim represents the givers and performers of the sacrifice; the other, the congregation and the community. I repeat it because I know that there are some present who have seldom honored the G.o.ds since childhood.

"The presenters of this fine white waterhorse are my son Hide and my daughter-to-be Vadsig. For them, a long marriage and a largely, though not entirely, happy one."

There were chuckles.

"They will have six children."

He hesitated, and bent lower to see more clearly. "I see a great deal of paper as well."

Scattered laughter.

"Quills and ink, and a partnership with another couple.

"The performers are His Cognizance and myself. We shall soon separate, parting in friendship and regret. One shall be highly favored by a G.o.d."

From the congregation, Gyrfalcon asked, "Which G.o.d, Patera?"

He straightened up, clearing his throat. "Where no other identification is made, it is safe to a.s.sume that the G.o.d to which a prophecy refers is the one to whom the victim is offered. The other augur--if augur is meant--also shall win the favor--"

At that instant, Oreb flew in through a window. "Watch out! "Watch out! Watch out!" Watch out!"

"And undertake a long journey, from which he shall not return. Death may be intended."

"Bad things!"

Raising a finger to his lips, he gave the bird a stern glance; it settled upon his shoulder, repeating, "Bad things! Things fly!"

"The G.o.d's prophecy concerned with all of us is about to be fulfilled, I believe. Certainly the entrails warn that it is very imminent. Some of you have slug guns, I see. You will need them. Others may have less obvious weapons of other kinds, as I do. You may wish to consider how best to employ them. I remind those of you who are unarmed that no man or woman of courage and resource is ever entirely helpless."

"Good Silk?" his bird croaked; and then, "Silk fight?"

He turned to the Prolocutor. "Your Cognizance, I suggest that this victim be offered to the flames entire, and that the remainder of the ceremony proceed as swiftly as possible. We haven't much time."

As has been said, Captain Wijzer led Vadsig down the aisle, he proud and tearful in crimson velvet tunic and trousers, she radiantly lovely in watered silk dripping with pearls. Her bridal bouquet was of pink-and-white seaspume; its gracious perfume soothed the very smoke of sacrifice. Aunt Oxlip's daughters Sweetbay and Madrone were her train-bearers, and Capsic.u.m's grandson bore the ring on a black silk pillow.

Everything went normally and even magnificently, until the lovers had exchanged vows, kissed, and started back up the aisle, bathed in the fervent good wishes of their guests, among whom Hoof and I were of course numbered.

"Watch out!" Oreb croaked. And then with an urgency that few if any had heard before: "Watch out!" "Watch out!" A flying shape not quite a man swooped over the pews. It struck Hide with such violence as to knock him off his feet, an apparition of fangs and terrible claws that fell in a welter of blood and slime, cut through the waist. A flying shape not quite a man swooped over the pews. It struck Hide with such violence as to knock him off his feet, an apparition of fangs and terrible claws that fell in a welter of blood and slime, cut through the waist.

The blade of an azoth, a thing more terrible than any inhumi, vanished as swiftly as it had appeared, then darted forth again to spear a second inhumu at an open window.

No coherent description of that famous fight is possible. Patera Remora (this is widely known) defended himself and his altar with the knife of sacrifice, as was written two hundred years ago of another augur favored by the G.o.ds. Capsic.u.m, it is said, stabbed Gyrfalcon in the melee; certainly she herself was shot and killed by a member of his bodyguard. Weasel, her grandson and Marrow's, is said to have killed an inhumi and an inhuma, though he was only a boy. Captain Wijzer, five inhumi, twice strangling one with each hand.

It would be possible and even easy to multiply such reports to fill a hundred pages. Because they are omitted from all the other accounts, what we must emphasize here are the indescribable noise, the welter of blood, and the wild confusion. Everyone was screaming. Everyone was fighting, even those who would have fled if they could. No count of the numbers of the inhumi was or is possible. It has been said that half the inhumi on Blue at the time took part in the attack, but the a.s.sertion rests upon their own testimony, and of what value is that?

Those skilled in war report that an attacking force will scarcely ever sustain its attack when it has lost a third of its number. The best count of the dead inhumi (that of Legume, who was charged with burning their bodies) is one hundred and ninety-eight. If it is correct, and they fought as crack troopers do, their number was about six hundred. It seems probable, however, that it was considerably larger. We would propose one thousand.

What seems certain is that without the azoth, Gyrfalcon's needler, and the slug guns of his bodyguard, the subject of this volume would have perished, and the wedding party with him.

Afterward, he visited Patera Remora, and they sat side by side talking for a time in the little garden between the manse and the manteion. "It is--ah--coming," Patera Remora told him. "In process, hey? If not in my, er, time, then in my acolyte's we will have a working Window, um, Horn."

He said, "Without Mainframe, no G.o.d can come to it, Your Cognizance."

"Better, hum? Better so. In--ah--Viron, eh? Thirty years? In, um, Old Viron, as we say now."

He smiled. "No doubt you're right, Your Cognizance."

"What all men, and most--ah--females, require is not theophany, not the divine, um, palpability. Tangibility. It is the--ha!--possibility."

"And yet Mainframe, too, will come. Not in your lifetime, I believe. In your acolyte's."

"He, um, welcome it." The Prolocutor nodded to himself, tossing back the lank gray hair that had fallen over his eyes.

His visitor gave him a piercing glance. "Not you?"

"Er, yes. To be sure."

"It would be presumptuous--very presumptuous--for me to proffer advice, Your Cognizance."

"Yet I should welcome it, er, Horn."

Oreb corrected him.