so obvious I hesitate to explain them."
Silk nodded. "I can see that it would put them both in an
uncomfonable position."
"In a very dangerous one, Patera Calde. Partisans of the successor
might assassinate the calde, while those who'd hoped to become
calde would be tempted to murder the successor. When the last
calde's will was read, it was found to designate a successor. I
remember the exact wording. It said, 'Though he is not the son of
my body, my son will succeed me.' What do you make of that?"
Silk stroked his cheek. "It didn't name this son?"
"No. I've given you the entire clause. The calde had never
married, as I should have told you sooner. As far as anybody knew,
he had no sons."
Maytera Marble ventured, "I never knew about this, Your
Cognizance. Didn't the son tell them?"
"Not that I know of. It's possible he did and was killed secretly by
Lemur or one of the other councillors, but I doubt it." Quetzal
selected a long cedar split and poked the sinking fire. "If they'd done
that, I'd have heard about it by this time. Probably much sooner. No
public announcement was made, you understand. If there'd been
one, pretenders would have put themselves forward and made
endless trouble. The Ayuntamiento searched in secret. To be frank,
I doubt that the boy would have lived if they'd found him."
Silk nodded reluctantly.
"If it had been a natural son, they could've used medical tests. As
it was, the only hope was turn up a record. The monitors of every
glass that could be located were queried. Old documents were read
and reread, and the calde's relatives and associates interrogated, all
without result. An election should have been held, and I urged one
repeatedly because I was afraid we'd have a theophany from Scylla
unless something was done. But an election would have been illegal,
as I had to admit. The calde had designated his successor. They
simply couldn't find him."
"Then I'll have no right to office if it's forced on me."
"Hardly. In the first place, that was a generation ago. It's likely
the adopted son's dead if he ever existed. In the second, the Charter
was written by the gods. It's a document expressing their will
regarding our governance nothing more. It's clear they're displeased
with the present state of things, and you're the only
alternative, as Maytera told you."
Quetzal handed the sacrificial knife to Maytera Marble. "I think
we can go now, Maytera. You must stay. Watch the fire until it goes
out. When it does, carry the ashes into your manteion and dispose
of them as usual. You may notice bones or teeth among them. Don't
touch them, or treat them differently from the rest of the ashes in
any way."
Maytera Marble bowed.
"Purify the altar as usual. If you can get people to help you, take it
back into the manteion. Your Sacred Window, too."
She bowed again. "Patera has already instructed me to do so,
Your Cognizance."
"Fine. You're a good sensible woman, Maytera, as I said. I was
glad to see that you had resumed your coif when you went back to
your cenoby. You've my permission to enter the manse. There's an
old woman there. I think you'll find she's well enough to go home.
There's a boy on one of the beds upstairs. You can leave him there
or carry him into your cenoby to nurse, if that will be more
convenient. See to it that he doesn't exert himself, and that he
drinks a lot of water. Get him to eat, if you can. You might cook
some of this meat for him."
Quetzal turned to Silk. "I want to look in on him again, Patera,
while Maytera's busy with the fire. I'm also going to borrow a spare
robe I saw up there, your acolyte's, I suppose. It looked too short
for you, but it should fit me, and when we meet the rebels--perhaps
we should call them servants of the Queen of the Whorl, some such.
When we meet them, it may help if they know who I am as well as
who you are."
Silk said, "I feel certain Patera Gulo would want you to have
anything that can be of any assistance whatsoever to you, Your
Cognizance."
As Quetzal tottered away, Maytera Marble asked, "Are you going
to help Maytera Mint, Patera? You'll be in frightful danger, both of
you. I'll pray for you."
"I'm much more worried about you than about myself," Silk told
her. "More, even, than I am about her--she must be under
Echidna's protection, in spite of what His Cognizance said."
Maytera Marble lifted her head in a slight, tantalizing smile.
"Don't fret about me. Maytera Marble's taking good care of me."
Unexpectedly, she brushed his cheek with warm metal lips. "If you
should see my boy Bloody, tell him not to worry either. I'll be all
right."
"I certainly will, Maytera." Silk took a hasty step back. "Good-bye,
Maytera Rose. About those tomatoes--I'm sorry, truly sorry about
everything. I hope you've forgiven me."
"She passed away yesterday, Patera. Didn't I tell you?"
"Yes," Silk mumbled. "Yes, of course."
Auk lay on the floor of the tunnel. He was tired--tired and weak
and dizzy, he admitted to himself. When had he slept last? Dayside
on Molpsday, after he'd left Jugs and Patera, before he went to the
lake, but he'd slept on the boat a dog's right before the storm. Her
and the butcher had been tired, too, tireder than him though they
hadn't been knocked on the head. They'd helped in the storm, and
Dace was dead. Urus hadn't done anything, would kill him if he got
the chance. He pictured Urus standing over him with a bludgeon
like the one he had seen, and sat up and stared around him.
Urus and the soldier were talking quietly. The soldier called, "I'm
keeping an eye out. Go back to sleep, trooper."
Auk lay down again, though no soldier could be a friend to
somebody like him, though he'd sooner trust Urus though he didn't
trust Urus at all.
What day was it? Thelxday. Phaesday, most likely. Grim Phaea,
for food and healing. Grim because eating means killing stuff to eat,
and it's no good pretending it don't. Stuff like Gelada'd killed Dace
with his bad arm and the string around his neck. That's why you
ought to go to manteion once in a while. Sacrifice showed you,
showed the gray ram dying and its blood thrown in the fire, and
poor people thanking Phaea or whatever god it was for "this good
food." Grim because healing hurts more than dying, the doctor cuts
you to make you well, sets the bone and it hurts. Dace said a bone in
his head was broken, was cracked or something, he was cracked for
sure and it was probably true because he got awful dizzy sometimes,
couldn't see good sometimes, even stuff right in front of him. A
white ram, Phaea, if I get over this.
It should've been a black ram. He'd promised Tartaros a black
ram, but the only one in the market had cost more than he had, so
he'd bought the gray one. That was before last time, before Kypris
had promised them it'd be candy, before the ring for Jugs, the
anklet for Patera. It had been why his troubles started, maybe,
because his ram had been the wrong color. They dyed those black
rains anyhow...
Up the tree and onto the roof, then in through the attic window, but
he was dizzy, dizzy and the tree already so high its top touched the