skull and the spine, she reminded herself. Good though it was, the
knife could not cut bone.
Next the hooves, gay with gold paint. Faster! Faster! They would
be all afternoon at this rate; she wished that she had done more of
the cooking, though they had seldom had much meat to cut up. She
hissed, 'You must take the next one, sib. Really, you must!'
'We can't change off now!'
She threw the last hoof into the fire, leaving the poor goat's legs
ragged, bloody stumps. Still grasping the knife, she faced the
Window as before. 'Accept, O Kind Kypris, the sacrifice of this fine
goat. And speak to us, we beg, of the days that are to come. What
are we to do? Your lightest word will be treasured.' She offered a
silent prayer to Kypris, a goddess who seemed to her since Scylsday
almost a larger self. 'Should you, however, choose otherwise...'
She let her arms fall. 'We consent. Speak to us, we beg, through
this sacrifice.'
On Scylsday, the sacrifices at Orpine's funeral had been
ill-omened to say the least. Maytera Mint hoped fervently for better
indicants today as she slit the belly of the he-goat.
'Kypris blesses...' Louder. They were straining to hear her.
'Kypris blesses the spirit of our departed sib.' She straightened up
and threw back her shoulders. 'She assures us that such evil as
Maytera did has been forgiven her.'
The goat's head bunt in the fire, scattering coals: a presage of
violence. Maytera Mint bent over the carcass once more, struggling
frantically to recall what litfie she knew of augury--remarks
dropped at odd moments by Patera Pike and Patera Silk, half-hearted
lessons at table from Maytera Rose, who had spoken as
much to disgust as to teach her.
The right side of the beast concerned the presenter and the augur
who presided, the giver and the performer of the sacrifice; the left
the congregation and the whole city. This red liver foretold deeds of
blood, and here among its tangled veins was a knife, indicating the
augur--though she was no augur--and pointing to a square, the
square stem of mint almost certainly, and the hilt of a sword. Was
she to die by the sword? No, the blade was away from her. She was
to hold the sword, but she had already done that, hadn't she?
In the entrails a fat little fish (a bream, presumably) and a jumble
of circular objects, necklaces or rings, perhaps. Certainly that
interpretation would be welcomed. They lay close to the bream, one
actually on top of it, so the time was very near. She mounted the
first two steps.
'For the presenter. The goddess favors you. She is well pleased
with your sacrifice.' The goat had been a fine one, and presumably
Kypris would not have indicated wealth had she not been gratified.
'You will gain riches, jewels and gold particularly. within a short
time.'
Grinning from ear to ear, Bream backed away.
'For all of us and for our city, violence and death, from which
good will come.' She glanced down at the carcass, eager to be
certain of the sign of addition she had glimpsed there; but it had
gone, if it had ever existed. 'That is all that I can see in this victim,
though a skilled augur such as Patera Silk could see much more, I'm
sure.'
Her eyes searched the crowd around the altar for Bream. 'The
presenter has first claim. If he wishes a share in this meal, let him
come forward.'
Already the poor were struggling to get nearer the altar. Maytera
Marble whispered, 'Burn the entrails and lungs, sib!'
It was wise and good and customary to cut small pieces when the
congregation was large, and there were two thousand in this one at
least; but there were scores of victims, too, and Maytera Mint had
little confidence in her own skill. She distributed haunches and
quarters, receiving delighted smiles in return.
Next a pair of white doves. Did you share out doves or burn them
whole? They were edible, but she remembered that Silk had burned
a black cock whole at Orpine's last sacrifice. Birds could be read,
although they seldom were. Wouldn't the giver be offended,
however, if she didn't read these?
'One shall be read and burned,' she told him firmly. 'The other
we will share with the goddess. Remain here if you would like it for
yourself.'
He shook his head.
The doves fluttered desperately as their throats were cut.
A deep breath. 'Accept, O Kind Kypris, the sacrifice of these fine
doves. And speak to us, we beg, of the times that are to come. What
are we to do? Your lightest word will be treasured.' Had she really
killed those doves? She risked a peek at their lifeless bodies. 'Should
you, however, choose otherwise...'
She let her arms fall, conscious that she was getting more blood
on her habit. 'We consent. Speak to us, we beg, through this
sacrifice.'
Scraping feathers, skin, and flesh from the first dove's right
shoulder blade, she scanned the fine lines that covered it. A bird
with outspread wings; no doubt the giver's name was Swan or
something of the sort, though she had forgotten it already. Here was
a fork on a platter. Would the goddess tell a man he was going to eat
dinner? Impossible! A minute drop of blood seemed to have seeped
out of the bone. 'Plate gained by violence,' she announced to the
presenter, 'but if the goddess has a second message for me, I am too
ignorant to read it.'
Maytera Marble whispered, 'The next presenter will be my son,
Bloody.'
Who was Bloody? Maytera Mint felt certain that she should
recognize the name. 'The plate will be gained in conjunction with
the next presenter,' she told the giver of the doves. 'I hope the
goddess isn't saying you'll take from him.'
Maytera Marble hissed, 'He's bought this manteion, sib.'
She nodded without comprehension. She felt hot and sick,
