I led him to the room to which he had first taken me and got some of the hard bread and a package of dried fruit. “I don’t think of myself as one anymore,” I continued, “but I was brought up as—” It was at my lips to say torturer, but I realized (then, I think, for the first time) that it was not quite the correct term for what the guild did and used the official one instead, “—as a Seeker for Truth and Penitence. We do what we have said we will do.”
“I have duties to perform. In the upper level, where you slept.”
“I am afraid they must go unperformed.” He was silent as we went out the door and onto the rocky hilltop. Then he said, “I will go with you, if I can. I have often wished to walk out of this door and never halt.” I told him that if he would swear upon his honour, I would untie him at once. He shook his head.
“You might think that I betrayed you.” I did not know what he meant.
“Perhaps somewhere there is the woman I have called Vine. But your world is your world. I can exist there only if the probability of my existence is high.”
I said, “I existed in your house, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but that was because your probability was complete. You are a part of the past from which my house and I have come. The question is whether I am the future to which you go.”
I remembered the green man in Saltus, who had been solid , enough. “Will you vanish like a soap bubble then?” I asked. “Or blow away like smoke?”
“I do not know,” he said. “I do not know what will happen to me. Or where I will go when it does. I may cease to exist in any time. That was why I never left of my own will.”
I took him by one arm, I suppose because I thought I could keep him with me in that way, and we walked on. I followed the route Mannea had drawn for me/and the Last House rose behind us as solidly as any other. My mind was busy with all the things he had told me and showed me, so that for a while, the space of twenty or thirty paces, perhaps, I did not look around at him. At last his remark about the tapestry suggested Valeria to me. The room where we had eaten cakes had been hung with them, and what he had said about tracing threads suggested the maze of tunnels through which I had run before encountering her. I started to tell him of it, but he was gone. My hand grasped empty air. For a moment I seemed to see the Last House afloat like a ship upon its ocean of ice. Then it merged into the dark hilltop on which it had stood; the ice was no more than what I had once taken it to be—a bank of cloud.
XVIII. Foila’s Request
FOR ANOTHER HUNDRED paces or more. Master Ash was not entirely gone. I felt his presence, and sometimes even caught sight of him, walking beside me and half a step behind, when I did not try to look directly at him. How I saw him, how he could in some sense be present while in another absent, I do not know. Our eyes receive a rain of photons without mass or charge from swarming particles like a billion, billion suns—so Master Palaemon, who was nearly blind, had taught me. From the pattering of those photons we believe we see a man. Sometimes the man we believe we see may be as illusory as Master Ash, or more so.
His wisdom I felt with me too. It had been a melancholy wisdom, but a real one. I found myself wishing he had been able to accompany me, though I realized it would have meant the coming of the ice was certain. “I’m lonely. Master Ash,” I said, not daring to look back. “How lonely I didn’t realize until now. You were lonely also, I think. Who was the woman you called Vine?”
Perhaps I only imagined his voice. “The first woman.”
“Meschiane? Yes, I know her, and she is very lovely. My Meschiane was Dorcas, and I am lonely for her, but for all the Others too. When Thecla became a part of me, I thought I would never be lonely again. But now she is so much a part that we’re only one person, and I can be lonely for others. For Dorcas, for Pia the island girl, for little Severian and Drotte and Roche. If Eata were here, I could hug him.
“Most of all, I’d like to see Valeria. Jolenta was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but there was something in Valeria’s face that tore my heart out. I was only a boy, I suppose, though I didn’t think so then. I crawled up out of the dark and found myself in a place they called the Atrium of Time.
Towers—the towers of Valeria’s family—rose on all sides of it. In the centre was an obelisk covered with sundials, and though I remember its shadow on the snow, it couldn’t have had sunlight there for more than two or three watches of each day; the towers must shade it most of the time. Your understanding is deeper than mine. Master Ash—can you tell me why they might have built it so?”
A wind that played among the rocks seized my cloak so that it billowed from my shoulders. I secured it again and pulled up my hood. “I was following a dog. I called him Triskele, and I said, even to myself, that he was mine, though I no right to keep a dog. It was a winter day when I found him. We’d been doing laundry—washing the clients’ bedclothes—and the drain plugged with rags and lint. I’d been shirking my work, and Drotte told me to go outside and ram a clothes prop up it. The wind was terribly cold. That was your ice coming, I suppose, though I didn’t know it at the time—the winters getting a little worse each year. And of course when I got the drain open, a gush of filthy water would come out and wet my hands.
“I was angry because I was the oldest, except for Drotte and Roche, and I thought the younger apprentices ought to have to do the work. I was poking at the clog with my stick when I saw him across the Old Yard. The keepers in the Bear Tower had held a private fight, I suppose, the night before, and the dead beasts were lying outside their door waiting for the nacker. There was an arsinoither and a smilodon, and several dire wolves. The dog was lying on top. I suppose he had been the last to die, and from his wounds one of the dire wolves had killed him. Of course, he wasn’t really dead, but he looked dead.
“I went over to see him—it was an excuse to stop what I was doing for a moment and blow on my fingers. He was as and cold as ... well, as anything I’ve ever seen. I killed a bull once with my sword, and when it was lying dead in its own blood it still looked quite a bit more living than Triskele did then.
Anyway, I reached out and stroked his head. It was as big as a bear’s, and they had cut off his ears, so that only two little points were left. When I touched him he opened his eyes. I dashed back across the Yard and rammed the stick up so hard it broke through at once, because I was afraid Drotte would send Roche down to see what I was doing.
“When I think back on it, it was as if I had the Claw already, more than a year before I got it. I can’t describe how he looked when he rolled his eye up to see me. He touched my heart. I never revived an animal when I had the Claw, but then I never tried. When I was among them, I was usually wishing I could kill one, because I wanted something to eat. Now I’m no longer sure that killing animals to eat is something we are meant to do. I noticed that you had no meat in your supplies—only bread and cheese, and wine and dried fruit. Do your people, on whatever world it is where people live in your time, feel so too?”
I paused, hoping for an answer, but none came. All the mountaintops had dropped below the sun now; I was no longer certain whether some thin presence of Master Ash followed me or only my shadow.
I said, “When I had the Claw I found that it would not revive those dead by human acts, though it seemed to heal the man-ape whose hand I had struck off. Dorcas thought it was because I had done it myself. I can’t say—I never thought the Claw knew who held it, but perhaps it did.”
A voice—not Master Ash’s but a voice I had never heard before—called out, “A fine new year to you!’’
I looked up and saw, perhaps forty paces off, just such an uhlan as Hethor’s notules had killed on the green road to the House Absolute. Not knowing what else to do, I waved and shouted, “Is it New Year’s Day, then?”