Briefly and inexplicably, the glaring sun might almost have been the swinging, smoking lampion in the Cock, Silk whispered, "The Outsider likewise forgives you, my daughter, for I speak here for him, too."
After tracing one final sign of addition, he stood and turned toward the statuesque young woman with the raspberry hair, to his considerable relief, she was clothed. "Bring me something to cover her with, please. Her time in this place is over."
Orchid was questioning the puffy-eyed brunette. "Is this her knife?"
"You ought to know." Fearlessly, the brunette reached beneath the railing to pull the long dagger from the wound. "I don't think so. She'd have showed it to me, most likely, and I've never seen it before."
Crane came down the steps, stooped over the dead woman, and pressed his fingers to her wrist. After a second or two, he squatted and laid an ausculator to her side.
(We acknowledge this state we call death with so much reluctance, Silk thought, not for the first time. Surely it can't be natural to us.)
Withdrawing the dagger had increased the seepage from the wound; under all the shrill hubbub, Silk could hear the dead woman's blood dripping from the steps to the crumbling brick pavement of the courtyard, like the unsteady ticking of a broken clock.
Orchid was peering nearsightedly at the dagger. "It's a man's. A man called Cat." Turning to face the courtyard, he shouted, "Shut up, all of you! Listen to me! Do any of you know a cull named Cat?"
A small, dark girl in a torn chemise edged closer. "I do. He comes here sometimes."
"Was he here last night? How long since you've seen him?"
The girl shook her head. "I'm not sure, Orchid. A month, maybe."
The corpulent woman waddled toward her, holding out the dagger, the younger women parting before her like so many ducklings before a duck. "You know where he lives? Who's he get, usually?"
"No. Me. Orpine sometimes, if I'm busy."
Crane stood up, glanced at Silk and shook his head, and put away his ausculator.
Blood's bellow surprised them all. "What's going on here?" Thick-bodied and a full head taller than most of the women, he strode into the courtyard with something of the air of a general coming onto a battlefield.
When Orchid did not answer, the raspberry-haired girl said wearily, "Orpine's dead. She just killed herself." She had a clean sheet under her arm, neatly folded.
"What for?" Blood demanded.
No one replied. The raspberry-haired girl shook out her sheet and passed a comer up to Crane. Together, they spread the sheet over the dead woman.
Silk put away his beads and went down the steps to the courtyard. Half to himself he muttered, "She didn't-not forever. Not even as long as I."
Orchid turned to look at him. "No, she didn't. Now shut up."
Musk had taken the dagger from her. After scrutinizing it himself, he held it out for Blood's inspection. Orchid explained, "A cully they call Cat comes here sometimes. He must've given it to her, or left it behind in her room."
Blood sneered. "Or she stole it from him."
"My girls don't steal!" As a tower long subverted by a hidden spring collapses, Orchid burst into tears; there was something terrible, Silk felt, in seeing that fat, indurated face contorted like a heartsick child's. Blood slapped her twice, forehand and backhand, without effect, though both blows echoed from the walls of the courtyard.
"Don't do that again," Silk told him. "It won't help her, and it may harm you."
Ignoring him, Blood pointed to the still form beneath the sheet. "Somebody get that out of sight. You there. Chenille. You're plenty big enough. Pick her up and carry her to her room."
The raspberry-haired woman backed away, trembling, the roughed spots on each high cheekbone glaring and unreal.
"May I see that, please?" Deftly, Silk took the dagger from Musk. Its hilt was bleached bone; burned into the bone with a needle and hand-dyed, a scarlet cat strutted with a tiny black mouse in its jaws. The cat's fiery tail circled the hilt. Following the puffy-eyed brunette's example, Silk leached under the railing and retrieved his handkerchief from beneath the sheet. The slender, tapering blade was highly polished, but not engraved. "Nearly new," he muttered. "Not terribly expensive, but not cheap either."
Musk said, "Any fool can see that," and took back the dagger.
"Patera." Blood cleared his throat. "You were here. Probably you saw her do it"
Silk's mind was still on the dagger. "Do what?" he asked.
"Kill herself. Let's get out of this sun." With a hand on Silk's elbow, Blood guided him into the spotted shade of the gallery, displacing a chattering circle of nearly naked women.
"No, I didn't see it," Silk said slowly. "I was inside, talking to Orchid."
"That's too bad. Maybe you want to think about it a little more. Maybe you saw it after all, through a window or something."
Silk shook his head.
"You agree that this was a suicide, though, don't you, Patera? Even if you didn't see it yourself?" Blood's tone (Bade his threat obvious.
Silk leaned back against the spalled shiprock, sparing his broken ankle. "Her hand was still on the knife when I first saw her body."
Blood smiled. "I like that. In that case, Patera, you agree that there's no reason to report this."
"I certainly wouldn't want to if I were in your place." To himself, Silk reluctantly admitted that he felt sure the dead woman had been no suicide, that the law required that her death by violence be reported to the authorities (though he had no illusions about the effort they would expend upon the death of such a woman), and that if he were somehow to find himself in Blood's place he would leave it as rapidly as possible-though neither honor nor morality required him to say any of these things, since saying them would be futile and would unquestionably endanger the manteion. It was all perfectly reasonable and nicely reasoned; but as he surveyed it, he felt a surge of self-contempt.
"I think we understand each other, Patera. There are three or four witnesses I could produce if I needed them- people who saw her do it But you know how that is."
Silk forced himself to nod his agreement; he had never realized that even passive assent to crime required so much resolution. "I believe so. Three or four of these unhappy young women, you mean. Their testimony would not carry much weight, however, and they would be apt to presume upon your obligation afterward."
Under Musk's direction, a burly man with less hair even than Blood had picked up the dead woman's body, wrapping it in the sheet. Silk saw him carry it to the door beyond the entrance to Orchid's office, which Musk opened for him.
"That's right. I couldn't have put it better myself." Blood lowered his voice. "We've been having way too much trouble here as it is. The Guards have been in here three times in the past month, and they're starting to talk about closing us down. Tonight I'll have to come up with some way to get rid of it."
"To dispose of that poor woman's body, you mean. You know, I've been terribly slow about this, I suppose because these aren't the sort of people I'm accustomed to. She was Orpine, wasn't she? One of these women mentioned it She must have had the room next to Orchid's office. Musk and another man have taken her body there, at any rate."
"Yeah, that was Orpine. She used to help out Orchid now and then, running the place." Blood turned away.
Silk watched him stride across the courtyard. Blood had called himself a thief the night before; it struck Silk now that he had been wrong-had been lying, in fact, in order to romanticize what he really did, though he would steal, no doubt, if given an opportunity to do so without risk; he was the sort of person who would consider theft clever, and would be inclined to boast of it.
But the fact was that Blood was simply a tradesman-a tradesman whose trades happened to be forbidden by law, and were inescapably colored by that. That he himself, Patera Silk, did not like such men probably meant only that he did not understand them as well as his own vocation required.
He strove to reorder his thoughts, shifting Blood (and himself as well) out of the criminal category. Blood was a tradesman, or a merchant of sorts; and one of his employees had been killed, almost certainly not by him or even tinder his direction. Silk recalled the pictured cat on the dagger, it reminded him of the engraving on the little needier, and he took it out to re-examine. There were golden hyacinths on each ivory grip because it had been made for a woman called Hyacinth.
He dropped it back into his pocket.
Blood's name… If the dagger had been made for him, the picture on its hilt would have shown blood, presumably: a bloody dagger of the same design, perhaps, or something of that sort The cat had held a mouse in its Jaws, and mice thus caught by cats bled, of course; but he could recall no blood in the picture, and the captive mouse been quite small. He was no artist but after putting himself in the place of the one who had drawn and tinted that picture, he decided that the mouse had been included mostly to indicate that the cat was in fact a cat, and not some other cat-like animal, a panther for example. The mouse had been a kind of badge, in other words.
The cat itself had been scarlet, but hardly with blood; even a large mouse would not have bled as much as that, and the cat had presumably been tinted to indicate that it was somehow burning. Its upright tail had actually been tipped with fire.
He took a step away from the wall and was punished by a flash of pain. On one knee, he pulled down his stocking and unwound Crane's wrapping, then flogged the guiltless wall he had just deserted.
When the wrapping was back in place, he went into the room next to Orchid's cramped office. It was larger than he had expected, and its furnishings were by no means devoid of taste. After glancing at a shattered hand mirror and a blue dressing gown he picked up from the floor, he uncovered the dead woman's face.
HE FOUND BLOOD in a private supper room with Musk and the burly man who had carried Orpine's body, discussing the advisability of keeping the yellow house closed that night Uninvited, Silk pulled up a chair and sat down. "May I interrupt? I have a question and a suggestion. Neither one should take long."
Musk gave him an icy stare.
Blood said, "They'd better not."
"The question first. What's become of Doctor Crane? He was out there with us a moment ago, but when I looked for him after you left I couldn't find him."
When Blood did not answer, the burly man said, "He's checking out the girls so they don't give anybody anything he hasn't got already. You know what I mean, Patera?"
Silk nodded. "I do indeed. But where does he do it? Is there some sort of infirmary-"
"He goes to their rooms. They got to undress and wait in their rooms until he gets there. When he's through with them, they can go out if they want to."
"I see." Silk stroked his cheek, his eyes thoughtful.
"If you're looking for him, he's probably upstairs. He always does the upstairs first."
"Fine," Blood said impatiently. "Crane's gone back to 1 work. Why shouldn't he? You'd better do the same, Patera. I still want this place exorcised, and in fact it needs it now more than ever. Get busy."
"I am about my work," Silk told him. "This is it, you see, or at least it's a part of it, and I believe that I can help you. You spoke of disposing of that poor girl's-of Orpine's-, body. I suggest that we bury it."
Blood shrugged. "I'll see about doing something-she won't be found, and she won't be missed. Don't worry about it."
"I mean that we should inter it as other women's bodies are interred," Silk explained patiently. "There must be a memorial sacrifice for her at my manteion first, of course.
Tomorrow's Scylsday, and I can combine the memorial service with our weekly Scylsday sacrifice. We've a man in
" the neighborhood who has a decent wagon. We've used him before. If none of these women are willing to wash and dress their friend's body, I can provide one who will take care of that as well."
Grinning, Blood thumped Silk on the arm. "And if some shaggy hoppy sticks his nose in, why we didn't do anything irregular. We had an augur and a funeral, and buried the girl in respectable fashion-he's intruding on our grief. You're a real help, Patera. When can you get your man here?"
"As soon as I return to my manteion, I suppose, which will be as soon as I've exorcised this house."
Blood shook his head. "I want to get her out of here. What about that sibyl I talked to yesterday? Couldn't she get him?"
Silk nodded.
"Good." Blood turned to the handsome young man beside him. "Musk, go down to the manteion on Sun Street and ask for Maytera Marble-"
Silk interrupted. "She'll probably be in the cenoby. The front door's on Silver Street, or you could go through the garden and knock at the back."
"And tell her there's going to be a funeral tomorrow. Have her get this man with the wagon for you. What's his name, Patera?"
"Loach."
"Get Loach and his wagon, or if he's not available, get somebody else. You don't know what happened to Orpine. A doctor's looked at her, and she's dead, and Patera here is going to take care of the funeral for us, and that's all you know. Get the woman, too. I don't think any of these sluts could face up to it."
"Moorgrass," Silk put in.
"Get her. You and the woman ride in the wagon so you can show this cully Loach where it is. If the woman has to have anything to work with, see that she brings it with her. Now get going."
Musk nodded and hurried away.
"Meantime you can get back to your exorcism, Patera. Have you started yet?"
"No. I'd hardly arrived when this happened, and I want to find out a great deal more about the manifestations they have experienced here." Silk paused, stroking his cheek. "I said that I'd just arrived, and that is true; but I've had time enough to make one mistake already. I told Orchid that I didn't care what the devils-or perhaps I should say the devil, because she spoke as though there were only one- had been up to. I said it because it was what they taught us to say in the schola, but I believe it may be an error in this case. I should speak with Orchid again."