The tall, black-robed man waiting in the street beyond the step did not appear in the least surprised. 'Did my presence here-ah-disturb you, Patera?' he inquired in a reverberant, nasal voice. 'I strove to be discreet and - um-unobtrusive. Do you follow me? Subdued, eh? Not so skillful about it, perhaps. I'd reached your door before I heard the-ah lady's voice.'
Silk leaned the bar against the wall. 'I know that it's somewhat irregular, Your Eminence -' 'Oh, no, no, no! You have your reasons, I'm certain, Patera.' The black-robed man bowed from the waist. 'Good evening, my dear. Good evening, and may every god be with you this night.' He favored Silk with a toothy smile that. gleamed even in the glimmering light from the sky-lands. 'I took great care to stand well out of the-ah-zone of-um-listening, Patera. Audibility? Earreach. Beyond the-ah-carry of the lady's voice. I could hear voices, I confess, save when a cart passed, if you follow me. But not one word you said. Couldn't make out a single thing, hey?' He smiled again. 'Sweet Scylla, bear witness!'
Silk left the manse to stand upon its doorstep. 'I'm exceedingly soRRy that I was so abrupt, Your Eminence. We heard-I should say we were told-'
'Perfectly proper. Patera.' One hand flipped up in a gesture of dismissal. 'Quite, quite correct.'
'-that there was someone outside, but not who-' Silk took a deep breath. 'Your business must be urgent, or it wouldn't have brought you out so late, Your Eminence. Won't you come in?'
He held the door, then barred it again when the black-robed man had entered. 'This is our sellaria, I'm afraid. The best room we have. I can offer you water and-and bananas, if you'd like some.' He recalled that he had not yet explored Kit's sack. 'Perhaps some other sort of fruit, as well.'
The black-robed man waved Silk's fruit away. 'You were advising this young lady, weren't you. Patera? Not shriving her, I hope. Not yet at least, though I didn't understand a word. I'd recognize the-ah-cadence of the Pardon of Pas, or so I fancy, having performed it so many, many times myself. The litany of Sacred Names, hey? Speak here for Great Pas, for Divine Echidna, for Scalding Scylla, and the rest. And I heard nothing like that. Nothing at all.'
Chenille, who had followed Silk to the door and stood behind him in the doorway, inquired, 'You're an augur, too, Patera?'
The black-robed man bowed again, then held up the voided cross he wore; its gold chain gleamed like the Aureate Path itself in the dingy little sellaria. 'I am indeed, my dear. One quite, quite capable of discretion, or I should not be where I am today, eh? So you've nothing to fear, not that I overheard a single word you said.'
'I'm confident that I can trust you implicitly, Patera. I was about to say that Patera Silk and I are liable to be quite some time. I can go somewhere else and come back in an hour or two-however much time you estimate that you may require.'
Silk stared at her, astonished.
'Such a lady as you, my dear? In this quarter? I would not-ah-will not hear of it. Not for a single instant! But perhaps I might have a word with Patera now, eh? Then I'll be on my way.'
'Of course,' Chenille told him. 'Please disregard, me completely, Your Eminence.'
He was more than half a head taller than Silk (though Silk was nearly as tall as Auk) and at least fifteen years his elder. Thin, coal-black hair spilled down his forehead; he tossed his head to keep it out of his eyes as he spoke. 'It is Patera Silk, hey? I don't believe I've had the-ah-pleasure, Patera. I'm a perfect stranger, eh? Or nearly. Near as makes no matter. I wish it weren't so. Wish that-ah-that we met now as old acquaintances, eh? Though I did you a bad turn, eh? Couple of years ago. I admit it. I acknowledge it. No question about, it, but I've got to do what's best for the Chapter, eh? The Chapter's our mother, after all, and bigger than any man. I'm Remora.'
He turned his smile on Chenille. 'This young beauty may prefer to maintain an-ah-ah-discreet anonymity, eh? That might be the prudent course, hey? However she prefers, and no offense taken.'
Chenille nodded. 'If you don't object, Patera.'
'No, no, indeed not.' Remora's hand waved negligently. 'Indeed not. Why I-ah-advise it myself.'
Silk said, 'You attended my graduation, Your Eminence. You were on the dais, to the right of our Prelate. I don't expect you to remember me.'
'Oh, but I do! I do! Won't you sit, my dear? I do indeed, Silk. You received honors, after all, eh? Never forget the sprats that get those. You were quite the huskiest cub the old place could show that year. I recall remarking to Quetzal-the Prolocutor, my dear, and I ought to have said His Cognizance. Remarking afterward that you ought to have gone into the arena, eh? So we-ah-ah-sent you there. Yes, we did! Merely a jest, to be sure. I was-um-I am responsible. My fault, all of it. That you were sent here, I mean. To this quarter, this manteion. I suggested it.' With a sidelong glance at the wreckage of the table upon which Musk had fallen, Remora lowered his lanky body into Silk's reading chair. 'I urged it-sit down, Patera-and dear Quetzal quite agreed.'
'Thank you, Your Eminence.' Silk sat. 'Thank you very much. I couldn't have gone to a better place.' 'Oh, you don't mean it. I can't blame you. Not at all, eh? Not at all. You've had a miserable time of it. I-ah-we know that, Quetzal and I. We realize it. But poor old - um-your predecessor. What was his name?'
'Pike, Your Eminence. Patera Pike.'
'Quite right. Patera Pike. What. if we'd sent poor old Pike one of those rabbity little boys, ell? Killed and eaten him on the first day, in this quarter, eh? You know it now, Patera, and I knew it then. So I suggested to Quetzal that we send you, and he saw the logic of it straight off. Now here you are, hey? All alone. Since Pike left for-ah-purer climes? You've done a fine, fine job of it, too, Patera. An - ah-exceptional job. I don't think that's too strong an expression.'
Silk forced himself to speak. 'I would like to agree, Your Eminence.' The words came singly and widely spaced, as heavy as waystones. 'But this manteion has been sold. You must know about that. We couldn't even pay taxes. The city seized the property; I assume that the Chapter was notified, though I was not. The new owner will certainly close the manteion and the palaestra, and he may well tear them both down.'
'He's worked hard, my dear,' Remora told Chenille. 'You don't live in the quarter, eh? So you can't know. But he has. He has.'
Silk said, 'Thank you, Your Eminence. You're very kind. I wish, though, that there were no need for your kindness. I wish I had made a success of this manteion, somehow. When I thanked you for assigning me here, I wasn't being polite. I don't really love this place-these cramped old, run-down buildings and so forth, though I used to try to make myself believe I did. But the people - We have a great many bad people here. That's what everyone says, and it's true. But the good ones have been tried by fire and remained good in spite of everything that the whorl could throw against them, and there's nothing else like them in the whorl. And even the bad ones, you'd be surprised-'
At that moment, Oreb fluttered into Chenille's lap with Musk's knife in his beak.
'Hey? Extraordinary! What's this?'
'Oreb has a dislocated wing,' Silk explained. 'I did it by accident, Your Eminence. A physician put the bone back in the socket yesterday, but it hasn't healed yet.'
Remora waved Oreb's woes aside. 'But this dagger, hey? Is it yours, my dear?'
Chenille nodded without a trace of a smile. 'I threw it to illustrate a point that I was making to Patera Silk, Your Eminence. Now Oreb's kindly returned it to me. He likes me, I think.'
Oreb whistled.
'You threw it? I don't want-ah-intend to appear skeptical, my dear-'
Chenille's hand flicked in the direction of the cabinet, and the wainscotting above its top boomed like a kettledrum. With its blade half buried in oak. Musk's knife did not even vibrate.
'Oh! O you gods!' Remora rose and went to examine the knife. 'Why, I'd never- This is really most-ah-um - most . . .' He grasped the hilt and tried to pull the knife out, but was forced to work it back and forth. 'There's only the single scar here, one-um-hole in the wood.'
'I thought Patera Silk would prefer that I mark his wall as little as possible,' Chenille told him demurely.
'Hah!' Remora gave a snort of triumph as he succeeded in freeing the knife; he returned it with a profound bow. 'Your weapon, my dear. I knew that this quarter is said to be-ah-rough? Tough. Lawless. And I observed the broken table. But I hadn't realized . . . Patera, my - ah-our admiration for you was already very great. But it's- um-mine's now, well . . .' He seated himself again. 'That's what I was about to remark, Patera. You may possibly imagine that we-um-Quetzal and I-'
His attention shifted to Chenille. 'As this good augur knows, I am His Cognizance's-ah-prochain ami, my
