for it, and there's no one left but you.'
Maytera Marble's sleek metal head bobbed humbly, oddly
mechanical without her coif. 'I'll do my best, Patera.'
'I know you will.' Refilled his lungs. 'I said there were two things
I had to tell you. You may not recall it, but I did. When you began
to speak, I found there were a great many more. Now I must tell you
those two, and then we'll carry Maytera into the manteion, if we
can. The first is something I should have said months ago. Perhaps I
did; I know I've tried. Now I believe--I believe it's quite likely I
may be killed, and I must say it now, or be silent forever.'
'I'm anxious to hear it, Patera.' Her voice was soft, her metal
mask expressionless and compassionate; her hands clasped his, hard
and wet and warm.
'I want to say--this is the old thing--that I could never have stood
it here if it hadn't been for you. Maytera Rose and Maytera Mint
tried to help, I know they did. But you have been my right arm,
Maytera. I want you know that.'
Maytera Marble was staring at the ground. 'You're too kind,
Patera.'
'I've loved three women. My mother was the first. The third...'
He shrugged. 'It doesn't matter. You don't know her, and I doubt
that I'll ever see her again.' A pillar of swirling dust rose above the
top of the garden wall, to be swept away in a moment.
'The second thing, the new one, is that I can't remain the sort of
augur I've been. Pas--Great Pas, who ruled the whole Whorl like a
father--is dead, Maytera. Echidna herself told us. Do you remember that?'
Maytera Marble said nothing.
'Pas built our whorl, as we learn from the Writings. He built it, I
believe, to endure for a long, long time, but not to endure
indefinitely in his absence. Now he's dead, and the sun has no
master. I believe that the Fliers have been trying to tame it, or
perhaps only trying to heal it. A man in the market told me once
that his grandfather had spoken of them, saying their appearance
presaged rain; so all my life, and my mother's, and her parents', too,
have been lived under their protection, while they wrestled the sun.'
Silk peered through the wilting foliage overhead at the dwindling
golden line, already narrowed by the shade. 'But they've failed,
Maytera. A flier told me yesterday, with what was almost his final
breath. I didn't understand then; but I do now, or at least I believe I
may. Something happened in the street that made it unmistakable.
Our city, and every other, must help if it can, and prepare for worse
times than we've ever known.'
Quetzal's tremulous old voice came from outside the arbor.
'Excuse me, Patera. Maytera.' The wilting vines parted, and he
stepped inside. 'I overheard what you said. I couldn't help it, it's so
quiet. You'll pardon me, I hope?'
'Of course, Your Cognizance.' Both rose.
'Sit down, my daughter. Sit, please. May I sit beside you, Patera?
Thank you. Everyone's hiding indoors, I imagine, or gone off to
join the fighting. I've been upstairs in your manse, Patera, and I
looked out your window. There isn't a cart in the street, and you can
hear shooting.'
Silk nodded. 'A terrible thing, Your Cognizance.'
'It is, as I overheard you say earlier, Patera. Maytera, you are,
from all I've heard and read in our files, a woman of sound sense. A
woman outstanding for that valuable quality, in fact. Viron's at war
with itself. Men and women, and even children, are dying as we
speak. They call us butchers for offering animal blood to the gods,
though they're only animals and die quickly for the highest of
purposes. Now the gutters are running with wasted human blood. If
we're butchers, what will they call themselves when it's over?' He
shook his head. 'Heroes, I suppose. Do you agree?'
Maytera Marble nodded mutely.
'Then I ask you, how can it be ended? Tell me, Maytera. Tell us
both. My coadjutor fears my humor, and I myself fear at times that I
overindulge it. But I was never more serious.'
She muttered something inaudible.
'Louder, Maytera.'
'Patera Silk must become our calde.'
Quetzal leaned back in the little rustic seat. 'There you have it.
Her reputation for good sense is entirely justified, Patera Calde.'
'Your Cognizance!'
Maytera Marble made Quetzal a seated bow. 'You're too kind,
Your Cognizance.'
'Maytera. Suppose I maintain that yours isn't the only solution.
Suppose I say that the Ayuntamiento has governed us before and
can govern us again. We need only submit. What's wrong with that?'
'There'd be another rebellion, Your Cognizance, and more riots.'
Maytera Marble would not meet Silk's eyes. 'More fighting, new
rebellions every few years until the Ayuntamiento was overthrown.
I've watched discontent grow for twenty years, Your Cognizance,
and now they're killing, Patera says. They'll be quicker to fight next
time, and quicker again until it never really stops. And--and...'
'Yes?' Quetzal motioned urgently. 'Tell us.'
'The soldiers will die, Your Cognizance, one by one. Each time
the people rise, there will be fewer soldiers.'
'So you see.' His head swung about on its wrinkled neck as he
spoke to Silk. 'Your supporters must win, Patera Calde. Stop
wincing when I call you that, you've got to get used to it. They must,
because only their victory will bring Viron peace. Tell Loris and the
rest they can save their lives by surrendering now. Lemur's dead,
did you know that?'
Swallowing, Silk nodded.
'With Lemur gone, a few smacks of your quirt will make the rest
trot anywhere you want. But you must be calde, and the people
must see you are.'
'If I may speak, Your Cognizance?'
'Not to tell me that you, an anointed augur, will not do what I,
your Prolocutor, ask you to, I trust.'
