surgeon left, returning at once (it seemed) with a basin of water and
a sponge. "I'm taking that ultrasonic diathermic wrapping on your
ankle. We've got men who need it a lot more than you do."
"Then take it, please," Silk told him.
The surgeon looked surprised.
"What I mean is that 'Silk' has become someone a great deal
bigger than I am--that I'm not what is meant when people say,
'Silk.'"
"You ought to be dead," the surgeon informed him somewhat
later. "Your lung's collapsed. Probably better to enlarge the exit
wound instead of going in this way. I'm going to roll you over. Did
you hear that? I'm going to turn you over. Keep your nose and
mouth to the side so you can breathe."
He did not, but the surgeon moved his head for him.
Abruptly he was sitting almost upright with a quilt around him,
while the surgeon stabbed him with another needle. "It's not as bad
as I thought, but you need blood. You'll feel a lot better with more
blood in you."
A dark flask dangled from the bedpost like a ripe fruit.
Someone he could not see was sitting beside his bed. He turned his
head and craned his neck to no avail. At last he extended a hand
toward the visitor; and the visitor took it between his own, which
were large and hard and warm. As soon as their hands touched, he
knew.
You said you weren't going to help, he told the visitor. You said I
wasn't to expect help from you, yet here you are
The visitor did not reply, but his hands were clean and gentle and
full of healing.
* * *
"Are you awake, Patera?"
Silk wiped his eyes. "Yes."
"I thought you were. Your eyes were closed, but you were crying."
"Yes," Silk said again.
"I brought a chair. I thought we might talk for a minute. You
don't mind?" The man with the chair was robed in black.
"No. You're an augur, like me."
"We were at the schola together, Patera. I'm Shell--Patera Shell
now. You sat behind me in canonics. Remember?"
"Yes. Yes, I do. It's been a long time."
Shell nodded. "Nearly two years." He was thin and pale, but his
small shy smile made his face shine.
"It was good of you to come and see me, Patera--very good." Silk
paused for a moment to think. "You're on the other side, the
Ayuntamiento's side. You must be. You're taking a risk by talking
to me. I'm afraid."
"I was." Shell coughed apologetically. "Perhaps--I don't know,
Patera. I--I haven't been fighting, you know. Not at all."
"Of course not."
"I brought the Pardon of Pas to our dying. To your dying, too,
Patera, when I could. When that was done, I helped nurse a little.
There aren't enough doctors and nurses, not nearly enough, and
there was a big battle on Cage Street. Do you know about it? I'll tell
you if you like. Nearly a thousand dead."
Silk shut his eyes.
"Don't cry, Patera. Please don't. They've gone to the gods. All of
them, from both sides, and it wasn't your fault, I'm sure. I didn't see
the battle, but I heard a great deal about it. From the wounded, you
know. If you'd rather talk about something else--"
"No. Tell me, please."
"I thought you'd want to know, that I could describe it to you and
it would be something that I could do for you. I thought you might
want me to shrive you, too. We can close the door. I talked to the
captain, and he said that as long as I didn't give you a weapon it
would be all right."
Silk nodded. "I should have thought of it myself. I've been
involved with so many secular concerns lately that I've been getting
lax, I'm afraid." There was a bow window behind Shell; noticing that
it displayed only black night and their own reflected images, Silk
asked, "Is this still Hieraxday, Patera?"
"Yes, but its after shadelow. It's about seven thirty, I think.
There's a clock in the captain's room, and it was seven twenty-five
when I went in. Seven twenty-five by that clock, I mean, and I
wasn't there long. He's very busy."
"Then I haven't neglected Thelxiepeia's morning prayers."
Briefly, he wondered whether he could bring himself to say them
when morning came, and whether he should. "I won't have to ask
forgiveness for that when you shrive me. But first, tell me about the
battle."
"Your forces have been trying to capture the Alambrera, Patera.
Do you know about that?"
"I knew they had gone to attack it. Nothing more."
"They were trying to break down the doors and so on. But they
didn't, and everybody inside thought they had gone away, probably
to try to take over the Juzgado."
Silk nodded again.
"But before that, the government--the Ayuntamiento, I mean--had
sent a lot of troopers, with floaters and so on and a company of
soldiers, to drive them away and help the Guards in the Alambrera."
"Three companies of soldiers," Silk said, "and the Second Brigade
of the Guard. That's what I was told, at any rate."
Shell nearly bowed. "Your information will be much more accurate
than mine, I'm sure, Patera. They had trouble getting through
the city, even with soldiers and floaters, although not as much as
they expected. Do you know about that?"
Silk rolled his head from side to side.
"They did. People were throwing things. One man told me he was
hit by a slop jar thrown out of a fourth-floor window." Shell
ventured an apologetic laugh. "Can you imagine? What will the
people who live up there do tonight I wonder? But there wasn't
much serious resistance, if you know what I mean. They expected
barricades in the street, but there was nothing like that. They
marched through the city and stopped in front of the Alambrera.
The troopers were supposed to go in while the soldiers searched the
buildings along Cage Street."
Silk allowed his eyes to close again, visualizing the column
described by the monitor in Maytera Rose's glass.
"Then," Shell paused for emphasis, "General Mint herself charged
them down Cage Street, riding like a devil on a big white horse.
From the other way, you see. From the direction of the market."
Surprised, Silk opened his eyes. "_General_ Mint?"
"That's what they call her. The rebels--your people, I mean."
Shell cleared his throat. "The fighters loyal to the Calde. To you."
"You're not offending me, Patera."
"They call her General Mint and she's got an azoth. Just imagine!
She chopped up the Guard's floaters horribly with it. This trooper I
talked to had been the driver of one, and he'd seen everything. Do
you know how the Guard's floaters are on the inside, Patera?"
"I rode in one this morning." Silk shut his eyes again, striving to
remember, "I rode inside until the rain stopped. Later I rode on it,
sitting on the... Up on that round part that has the highest buzz
gun. It was crowded inside, not at all comfortable, and we'd put the
bodies in there--but it was better than being out in the rain, perhaps."
Shell nodded eagerly, happy to agree. "There are two men and an
officer. One of the men drives the floater. He was the one I talked
to. The officer's in charge. He sits beside the driver, and there's a
glass for the officer, though some don't work any more, he said. The
officer has a buzz gun, too, the one that points ahead. There's