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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-"

A corner of Remora's mouth twitched upward. "But you will, eh? To be sure you will, Patera. Now, eh? Good to know that the-ah-arms of Scylla are good as new, eh? Or-ah-very nearly so. Not like-ah-um-Palustria's, hey? And many others. Soldiers and their-ah-weapons like new or nearly. Think about it, Patera."

Remora straightened up in his chair, resting his elbows on the escritoire. "What-um-more have you to report concerning Patera, Patera?"

"Your Eminence mentioned weapons. I found a paper packet of needles, Your Eminence. Opened."

"A paper of needles, Patera? I fail-"

"Not sewing needles," Gulo added hastily. "Projectiles for a needler, Your Eminence. In one of Patera's drawers, under clothing."

"I-ah-must consider that," Remora said slowly. "I-um-it is of-um-concern. No question. Anything- ah-further?"

"My final item, Your Eminence. One that I would much rather not have to report. This letter." Gulo extracted it from the pocket of his robe. "It's from-"

"You have, er, opened it." Remora favored him with a gentle smile.

"It's in a feminine hand, Your Eminence, and is heavily perfumed. Under the circumstances I think that what I did was justified. I hoped, very sincerely, Your Eminence, that it would prove to have emanated from a sister or some other female relation, Your Eminence. However-"

"You are-ah-bold, Patera. That's well, or so I am- ah-disposed to conclude. Sphigx favors the bold, eh?" Remora peered at the superscription. "Not from this- um-lady Chenille, hey? Or you would've said so previously, hum?"

"No, Your Eminence. From another woman."

"Read it to me, Patera. You must have-ah-puzzled out that-um-contorted scribble. I should, er, choose not to."

"I fear that you will find, Your Eminence, that Patera Silk has compromised himself. I wish-"

"I'll be the-ah-judge, eh? Read it, Patera."

Gulo cleared his throat and unfolded the letter. " 'O My Darling Wee Flea: I call you so not only because of the way you sprang from my window, but because of the way you hopped into my bed! How your lonely bloss has longed for a note from you!!!' "

"Bloss, Patera?"

"A pretended wife, I believe, Your Eminence."

"I-ah-very well. Proceed, Patera. Is there-ah further revelation?"

"I'm afraid so, Your Eminence. 'You might have sent one by the kind friend who brought you my gift, you know!' "

"Let me-ah-examine that, Patera." Remora extended his hand, and Gulo passed him the much-creased paper.

"Ah-hum."

"Yes, Your Eminence."

"She really does-ah-write like that, hey? Doesn't she? Yes-ah-does she not. I would not have-ah-conceded, er, previously, that a human being could."

Brows knit, Remora bent over the paper. " 'Now you have to tender me your,'-ah-um-'thanks,' I suppose that must be, eh? 'And so much more, when,'-ah-um- 'next we meet,' with yet another screamer. 'Don't you know that little,'-um-'place up on the Palatine-' Well, well, well!"

"Yes, Your Eminence."

" That little place up on the Palatine where Thelx,' I suppose she-ah-intends Thelxiepeia but doesn't-ah- apprehend the spelling. 'Where Thelx holds up a mirror? Hieraxday.' That last-um-underscored. Heavily, eh? Signature, 'Hy.' "

Remora tapped the paper with a long fingernail. "Well-ah-do you, Patera? Where is it, eh? A picture, I-ah-if I may guess at hazard. Not in one of the manteions, hey? I know them all."

Gulo shook his head. "I've never seen a picture like that, Your Eminence."

"In a-ah-house, most likely, Patera. A private- um-residence, I would-um-opine." Remora bawled, "Incus!" over Gulo's shoulder, and a small, sly-looking augur with buckteeth looked in so quickly as to suggest that he had been eavesdropping.

"Whereabouts might we-ah-descry Thelxiepeia and a mirror, here on the hill, eh, Incus? You don't know. Make-um-inquiries. I shall expect their result tomorrow at, um, no later than luncheon. Should be a simple matter, eh?" Remora glanced down at the letter's broken seal. "And fetch a seal with a-um-heart or kiss or some such for this." He tossed Hyacinth's letter across the room to Incus.

"Immediately, Your Eminence."

Remora turned back to Gulo. "It won't-um-signify if Patera has seen this one, Patera. She's the sort who'll have a round dozen at fewest, eh? You don't know how to- um-preserve the seal? Incus can show you. A useful art, eh?"

As the latch clicked behind his bowing prothonotary, Remora rose once more. "You take that back to Sun Street with you, eh? When he's through with it. If Patera isn't back, put it on the mantel. If he is, say it was-ah-handed to you as you went out, eh? You haven't glanced at it, hey?" Gulo nodded glumly. "Naturally, Your Eminence."

Remora leaned closer to peer at him. "Something- um-troubling you, Patera. Out with it." "Your Eminence, how could an anointed augur, a man of Patera's high promise, compromise himself so? I mean this absurd, filthy woman. And yet a goddess-! I understand now, only too well, why Your Eminence believes Patera must be watched, but-but a theophany!"

Remora sucked his teeth. "It's an-ah-habitual observation of - eld Quetzal's that the gods don't have laws, Patera. Only preferences."

"I myself can see, Your Eminence-but when the augur in question-"

Remora silenced him with a gesture. "Possibly we will, er, be made privy to the secret, Patera. In due time, eh? Possibly there's none. You've considered Palustria?"

Afraid to trust his voice, Gulo merely nodded.

"Capital." Remora regarded him narrowly. "Now then. What do you know about the-ah-history of the caldes, Patera?"

"The caldes, Your Eminence? Only that the last one died before I was born, and the Ayuntamiento decided that nobody could replace him." "And replaced him-um-themselves, hey? In effect. You realize that, Patera?"