Litany of the Long Sun (58 page)

Read Litany of the Long Sun Online

Authors: Gene Wolfe

Tags: #Science Fiction

Remora nodded.

"He made an impression on me, however, even though I saw him so briefly, Your Eminence. A distinct one."

"I-ah-see." Remora leaned back in his chair, his long fingers tip to tip. "Would it be-um-convenient for you to describe this, um, momentary interview in detail, hey?"

"As Your Eminence desires. Shortly after I entered the quarter a man had given me this." Patera Gulo pulled the bracelet from his pocket and held it up; Remora pursed his lips.

"I must add, Your Eminence, that several other such men have come to the door of the manse since then. It was my impression-my marked impression, Your Eminence- that: they had come to proffer similar gifts. They declined to do so when they learned Patera Silk was not present, however."

"You-ah-pressed them, Patera?"

"As much as I dared, Your Eminence. They weren't men of a kind one would care to press too far."

Remora grunted.

"I was about to say, Your Eminence, that when I showed this to Patera Silk he gave me a similar piece and told me to lock both of them in his cashbox. It was a diamond anklet, Your Eminence. There were two other persons with him at the time, a man and a woman. All three were going to the lake, I think. Something was said to that effect." Gulo gave an apologetic cough. "Possibly, Your Eminence, only Patera and the woman."

"You would appear to feel that Patera ought to have been more discreet." Remora seemed to sink deeper into his chair. "Yet unless you have-um-ascertained the identities of these two, you cannot very well, um, gauge how indiscreet he may have been. Have you, eh?"

Gulo fidgeted. "He called them Auk and Chenille, Your Eminence. He introduced them to me."

"Let me see that-ah-bangle." Remora held out his hand for the bracelet. "It ought scarcely to be-ah-needful for me to say that you yourself, Patera, should have been, er, very much more discreet than you were. Ah-by discreet in-ah-this instance, Patera, I, um, intend forceful. The word will bear that-ah-interpretation, I am confident. To be discreet, Patera, is to, er, exercise good judgment, hey? In this present-ah-matter, good judgment would have-ah-prompted a forcible-um-strategy? Approach. Or attitude."

"Yes, Your Eminence."

"You ought to have gracefully and-ah-graciously received any offerings from the faithful, Patera." Remora held up the bracelet so that it caught the light from the bull's-eye window behind him, and swung it from side to side. "I will not-ah-um-desire excuses on that-ah- score, Patera. Do you follow me? None at all, eh?"

Gulo nodded humbly.

"These-ah-gentlemen may return, hey? Perhaps when Patera is absent, as he was in the-um-occasion. You will be-ah-vouchsafed an-um-golden opportunity, when that-ah-hour strikes, with which you may-ah-um-redeem your credit, eh? Not impossibly. See that you do, Patera."

Gulo squirmed. "I shall try, Your Eminence. I will be forceful, I assure you."

"Now then. Your-ah-observations of Silk himself? You needn't-ah-vex yourself with physical description. I've seen him."

"Yes, Your Eminence." Gulo hesitated, his mouth open, his protuberant eyes vague. "He seemed determined."

"Determined, hum?" Remora laid the bracelet on a stack of papers. "To do which?"

"I don't know, Your Eminence. But his jaw was firm, I thought. His manner was decisive. There was-if I may say it, Your Eminence-a glint as of steel in his eyes, I thought. Perhaps that simile is something overblown, Your Eminence-"

"Perhaps it is," Remora told him severely.

"And yet it at least expresses what I sensed in him. At the schola, Your Eminence, Patera was two years before me."

Remora nodded.

"I noticed him there as anyone would, Your Eminence. I thought him good-looking and studious, but rather slow, if anything. Now, however-"

Remora waved the present aside. "You implied, I think, Patera, that Patera-ah-decamped, eh? With a couple. A married couple? Were they-um-ah-wed, so far as you could judge?"

"I believe they may have been, Your Eminence. The woman had a fine ring."

Rcmora's long fingers toyed with the jeweled gammadion he wore. "Describe them, eh? Their-ah-appearance."

"The man was lough-looking, Your Eminence, and somewhat older than I, I should say. He had not shaved, yet he was decently dressed and wore a hanger. Straight brown hair, Your Eminence. A reddish beard, and dark and piercing eyes. Quite tall. I look note of his hands, particularly, when he took that," Gulo indicated the bracelet, "from me. And when he returned it to me, Your Eminence. He had unusually large and powerful ones. Your Eminence. A brawler, I should say. Your Eminence finds me fanciful, I fear."

Remora grunted again. "Go ahead, Patera. Let me hear it. I'll tell you afterward, eh?"

"His hanger. Your Eminence. It was brass-fitted, with a large guard, and to judge from the scabbard it had a longer, broader blade than most, rather sharply curved. It seemed to me that the weapon was like to the man, Your Eminence, if you understand what I mean."

"I-ah-misdoubt that you do yourself. Patera. Yet these details may not be, um, wholly valueless. What of the woman, eh? This Chenille? Be as fanciful as you please."

"Remarkably attractive, Your Eminence. About twenty, tall though not stately. And yet there was an air-"

Remora's uplifted palm halted the younger augur in mid-thought. "Cherry-colored hair?"

"Why, yes, Your Eminence."

"I know her, Patera. I have had a-ah-achates or, um, three out looking for her since last night. So this-ah- fiery vixen was back at Silk's manteion this morning, eh? I will have this and that to say to my, um, adherents, Patera. Let's see that gaud again."

He picked the bracelet up. "I don't suppose you know what this is worth? The green stone, eh? Particularly?"

"Fifty cards, Your Eminence?"

"I have no idea. You haven't had it-um-valuated? No, no, don't. Return it to Silk's box, eh? Tell him-ah- nothing. I'll tell him myself. Tell Incus on your way out that I want to speak with Patera on Tarsday. Have Incus send a note with you, but it's not to mention that you were here, hey? Have him mark the time on my regimen."

Gulo nodded forcefully. "I will. Your Eminence."

"This - ah-woman. Precisely what did she say and do while she was in your presence? Every word, eh?"

"Why nothing, Your Eminence. I don't believe she ever spoke. Let me think."

Remora waved permission. "Take as long as you-ah- consider best. No, um, circumstance too trivial to mention, hey?"

Gulo shut his eyes and bent his head, a hand pressed to his temple. Silence descended upon the large and airy room from which Patera Remora, as coadjutor, conducted the often-tangled affairs of the Chapter. Through four blazing eyes, Twice-headed Pas regarded Gulo's bowed back from a priceless painting by Campion; a Guardsman's restless mount nickered in the street below.

After a minute or two had passed, Remora rose and walked to the bull's-eye window behind his chair. It stood open, and through its circular aperture (whose diameter exceeded his own very considerable height), he could see the gabled roofs and massive towers of the Juzgado at the foot of this, the western and least precipitous slope of the Palatine. High above the tallest, flying from a pole some trick of the glaring sunlight rendered nearly invisible, floated the bright green banner of Viron. Upon it, fitfully animated by the hot and dilatory wind, Scylla's long, white arms appeared to beckon, just as the papillae of certain invertebrates of her lake waved in evident imitation of its surface, searching the clear waters blindly and ceaselessly for bits of can-ion and living fish alike.

"Your Eminence? I believe I can tell you everything I saw now."

Remora turned back to Gulo. "Excellent. Ah-capital! Proceed, Patera."

"It was brief, as I said, Your Eminence. If it had been longer I would be less confident. Is Your Eminence familiar with the small garden attached to our manteion?"

Remora shook his head.

"There is such a place, Your Eminence. One can enter it from the manteion proper-that's how I entered it upon my arrival. I had looked in the manteion first, thinking that I might find Patera Silk at prayer."

"The woman, please, Patera. This-ah-Chenille, eh?"

"There's a grape arbor near the center, Your Eminence, with seats under the vines. She was sitting there, almost completely concealed by the dependent foliage. Patera and the layman, Auk, had been talking there with her, I believe. They came to meet me, but she remained seated."

"She-ah-emerged, eventually?"

"Yes, Your Eminence. We spoke for a minute or so, and Patera gave me their names, as I've reported them. Then he said that he was leaving, and his bird-is Your Eminence familiar with his bird?"

Remora nodded again. "The woman, Patera."

"Patera said they would leave, and she left the arbor. He said-these are his precise words, I believe-'This is Patera Gulo, Chenille. We were speaking of him earlier.' She nodded and smiled."

"And then, Patera? What-ah-next transpired, hey?"

"They left together, Your Eminence. The three of them. Patera had said, 'We're off to the lake, you silly bird.' And as they went out of the gate-there's a gate to Sun Street from the garden, Your Eminence-the layman said, 'Hope you get something, only don't go down in the chops if you don't.' But the woman said nothing at all."

"Her dress, Patera?"

"Black, Your Eminence. I remember that for a moment I thought it was a sibyl's habit, but it was actually just a black wool gown, such as fashionable women wear in winter."

"Jewelry? You said she wore a ring, eh?"

"Yes, Your Eminence. And a necklace and earrings, both jade. I noticed her ring particularly because it sparkled as she pushed the grapevines to one side. There was a dark red gem like a carbuncle, quite large, I believe in a simple setting of yellow gold. If Your Eminence would only confide in me…?"

"Tell you why she's-um-central? She may not be." Sighing, Remora pushed his chair away from the escritoire and returned to the window. With his back to Gulo and his hands clasped behind it, he repeated, "She may not be."

Moved by an excess of mannerliness, Gulo stood, too.

"Or yet, she-um-may. You're anxious to minister to the gods, Patera. Or so you declare, eh?"

"Oh, yes, Your Eminence. Extremely anxious."

"And also to rise in the-ah-books of an-er-um- remarkably extensive family, hey? That I have-ah-made note of as well. You have considered that in, um, due course you might eventually become Prolocutor, hey?"

Gulo blushed like a girl. "Oh, no, Your Eminence. That-that is-I-"

"No, no, you have, eh? Every young augur does; I did it myself. Has it struck home yet that by the time you get so much as-um-a whiff of mulberry, those whom you hope to-ah-impress? Overawe. That they will be dead? Gone, eh? Forgotten by everyone except the gods, Patera Gulo my boy. And you, eh? Forgotten by everyone save the gods and yourself. And who can vouch for the gods, eh? Such is the-ah-fact of the matter, I, er, warrant you."

No doubt wisely, Gulo swallowed and remained silent.

"You cannot do it by any stretch, Patera. Eh? By none. Assume the office. If you ever do. Not till I myself have gone, eh? And my successor, likewise. You are-ah-too young at present. Not even if I live long, hey? You know it, eh? Take an idiot not to, hey?"

Poor Gulo nodded, desperately wishing that he might flee instead.

The coadjutor turned to face him. "I cannot-um- speak for him, eh? My successor. Only for myself. Ah-yes. For myself, I-ah-um-meditate a reign longer than old Quetzal's, hey?"

"I would never wish you less, Your Eminence."

"His chambers are over there, Patera." Remora waved his left hand vaguely. "On this very floor of the palace, hey? South side. Faces our garden." He chuckled. "Bigger than Patera Silk's. Much more-ah-extensive, er, doubtless. Fountains-ah-statuary, and big trees. All that."

Gulo nodded. "They're lovely, I know. Your Eminence."

"He's held the office for thirty-three years already, hey? Old Quetzal. There are one hundred and-ah-odd of your generation, Patera, Many better-um-connected. I-ah-proffer a nearer target, an-ah-straighter road for your ambition."

Remora resumed his chair and motioned for Gulo to sit. "An-ah-little game now, eh? A sport, to while away this, um, overheated hour. Choose yourself a city, Patera. Any city you care to name, so long as it is not Viron. I'm perfectly serious. Within the-um-hedge of the game. Consider. Large? Fair? Rich? Which city will you have, eh, Patera?"

"Palustria, Your Eminence?"

"Down amongst the pollywogs, hey? Good enough. Then conceive yourself at the head of the Chapter in Palustria. Perhaps-ah-a decade hence. You will tithe, I should think, to the parent Chapter, here in Viron. You continue subject to the Prolocutor, eh? Whomever he may be. To old Quetzal, or to-ah-myself, as is more probable in ten years time. Do you find it a-um-attractive prospect, Patera?"' Remora raised a hand as he had before. "Needn't say so, if it-ah-troubles you."

"Your Eminence-?"

"I have no idea, Patera. None whatsoever, eh? But the drought. You're aware of that, hey? Can't escape it. How fairs your-ah-choice, Patera? How fares Palustria in the drought?"

Gulo swallowed. "I've heard that the rice crop failed, Your Eminence. I know there's no rice in the market here, though traders usually bring it."

Remora nodded. "There is rioting, Patera. There is- um-no starvation. None as yet. But there is the specter of starvation. Soldiers trying to, er, check the-ah-mob. Practically-ah-worn out, some of those soldiers. Uncle a military man, eh?"

Bewildered by the sudden shift in topic, Gulo managed, "Wh-why I-one is, Your Eminence."

"Major in the Second Brigade. Ask him where our army is, Patera. Or perhaps you can tell me now? Heard his- um-table talk? Where is it, eh?"

"In storage, Your Eminence. Underground. Here in Viron the Civil Guard is all we need."

"Precisely. Not so elsewhere though, Patera. We die, eh? Grow old like-ah-His Cognizance. And tread the path to Mainframe. Chems last longer, though. Forever?"

"I hadn't considered the matter, Your Eminence. But I would think-"

Other books

The S-Word by Chelsea Pitcher
Head Games by Eileen Dreyer
Enslave by Felicity Heaton
Strong Darkness by Jon Land
Fever by Tim Riley
Who Killed Jimbo Jameson? by Kerrie McNamara
Rebel Marquess by Amy Sandas
Don't Cry Now by Joy Fielding