"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."