“If I do that, there’ll be no one to talk to except the people I’ve been talking with all day. The man on my right is an Ascian prisoner, and the man on my left comes from some village neither you nor I ever heard of.”
“All right, if you’ll lie down I’ll sit and talk to you for a while. I’ve nothing more to do until the nocturne must be played anyway. What quarter of Nessus do you come from?”
As she escorted me to my cot, I told her that I did not want to talk, but to listen; and I asked her what quarter she herself called home.
“When you’re with the Pelerines, that’s your home—wherever the tents are set up. The order becomes your family and your friends, just as if all your friends had suddenly become your sisters too.
But before I came here, I lived in the far north western part of the city, within easy sight of the Wall.”
“Near the Sanguinary Field?”
“Yes, very near it. Do you know the place?”
“I fought there once.’
Her eyes widened. “Did you, really? We used to go there and watch. We weren’t supposed to, but we did anyway. Did you win?”
I had never thought about that and had to consider it. “No,” I said after a moment. “I lost.”
“But you lived. It’s better, surely, to lose and live than to take another man’s life.”
I opened my robe and showed her the scar on my chest that Agilus’s avern leaf had made.
“You were very lucky. Often they bring in soldiers with chest wounds like that, but we are seldom able to save them.” Hesitantly she touched my chest. There was a sweetness in her face that I have not seen in the faces of other women. For a moment she stroked my skin, then she jerked her hand away. “It could not have been very deep.”
“It wasn’t,” I told her.
“Once I saw a combat between an officer and an exultant in masquerade. They used poisoned plants for weapons—I suppose because the officer would have had an unfair advantage with the sword. The exultant was killed and I left, but afterward there was a great hullabaloo because the officer had run amok. He came dashing by me, striking out with his plant, but someone threw a cudgel at his legs and knocked him down. I think that was the most exciting fight I ever saw.”
“Did they fight bravely?”
“Not really. There was a lot of argument about legalitiesyou know how men do when they don’t want to begin.”
“ I shall be honoured to the end of my days to have been thought worthy of such a challenge, which no other bird has ever received before. It is with the most profound regret that I must tell you I cannot accept, and that for three reasons, the first of which is that though you have feathers on your wings, as you say, it is not against your wings that I would fight.’ Do you know that story?”
Smiling, she shook her head.
“It’s a good one. I’ll tell it to you some time. If you lived so near the Sanguinary Field, your family must have been an important one. Are you an armigette?”
“Practically all of us are armigettes or exultants. It’s a rather aristocratic order, I’m afraid.
Occasionally an optimate’s daughter like me is admitted, when the optimate has been a long time friend of the order, but there are only three of us. I’m told some optimates think all they have to do is make a large gift and their girls will be accepted, but it really isn’t so—they have to help out in various ways, not just with money, and they have to have done it for a long time. The world, you see, is not really—as corrupt as people like to believe.”
I asked, “Do you think it is right to limit your order in that way? You serve the Conciliator. Did he ask the people he lifted out of death if they were armigers or exultants?”
She smiled again. “That’s a question that has been debated many times in the order. But there are other orders that are quite open to optimates, and to the lower classes too, and by remaining as we are we get a great deal of money to use in our work and have a great deal of influence. If we nursed and fed only certain kinds of people, I would say you were right. But we don’t; we even help animals when we can. Conexa Epicharis used to say we stopped at insects, but then she found one of us—I mean a postulant—trying to mend a butterfly’s wing.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that these soldiers have been doing their best to kill Ascians?”
Her answer was very far from what I had expected. “Ascians are not human.”
‘I’ve already told you that the patient next to me is an Ascian. You’re taking care of him, and as well as you take care of us from what I’ve seen.”
“And I’ve already told you that we take in animals when we can. Don’t you know that human beings can lose their humanity?”
“You mean die zoanthropes. I’ve met some.”
“Them, of course. They give up their humanity deliberately. There are others who lose theirs without intending to, often when they think they are enhancing it, or rising to some state higher than that to which we are born. Still others, like the Ascians, have it stripped from them.” I thought of Baldanders, plunging from his castle wall into Lake Diutuma. “Surely these ... things deserve our sympathy.”
“Animals deserve our sympathy. That is why we of the order care for them. But it isn’t murder for a man to kill one.”
I sat up and gripped her arm, feeling an excitement I could scarcely contain. “Do you think that if something—some arm of the Conciliator, let us say—could cure human beings, it might nevertheless fail with those who are not human?”
“You mean the Claw. Close your mouth, please—you make me want to laugh when you leave it open like that, and we’re not supposed to when people outside the, order are around.”
“You know!”
“Your nurse told me. She said you were mad, but in a nice way, and that she didn’t think you would ever hurt anyone. Then I asked her about it, and she told. You have the Claw, and sometimes you can cure the sick and even raise the dead.”
“Do you believe I’m mad?”
Still smiling, she nodded.
“Why? Never mind what the Pelerine told you. Have I said anything to you tonight to make you think so?”
“Or spellbound, perhaps. It isn’t anything you’ve said at all. Or at least, not much. But you are not just one man.”
She paused after saying that. I think she was waiting for me to deny it, but I said nothing.
“It is in your face and the way you move—do you know that I don’t even know your name? She didn’t tell me.”
“Severian.”
“I’m Ava. Severian is one of those brother—sister names, isn’t it? Severian and Severa. Do you have a sister?”
“I don’t know. If I do, she’s a witch.”
Ava let that pass. “The other one. Does she have a name?”
“You know she’s a woman then.”
“Uh huh. When I was serving the food, I thought for a moment that one of the exultant sisters had come to help me. Then I looked around and it was you. At first it seemed that it was just when I saw you from the corner of my eye, but sometimes, while we’ve been sitting here, I see her even when I’m looking right at you. When you glance to one side sometimes you vanish, and there’s a tall, pale woman using your face. Please don’t tell me I fast overmuch. That’s what they all tell me, and it isn’t true, and even if it were, this isn’t that.”
“Her name is Thecla. Do you remember what you were just saying about losing humanity? Were you trying to tell me about her?”
Ava shook her head. “I don’t think so. But I wanted to ask you something. There was another patient here like you, and they told me he came with you.”
“Miles, you mean. No, my case and his are quite different. I won’t tell you about him. He should do it himself, or no one should. But I will tell you about myself. Do you know of the corpse-eaters?”