'You've been Prolocutor for many years, Your Cognizance. Since
long before I was born. You were Prolocutor in the days of the last
calde.'
Quetzal nodded. 'I knew him well. I intend to know you better,
Patera Calde.'
'I was a child when he died, Your Cognizance, a child just
learning to walk. A great many things must have happened then that
I've never heard of. I mention it to emphasize that I'm asking out of
ignorance. If you would prefer not to answer, no more will be said
about the matter.'
Quetzal nodded. 'If it were Maytera here inquiring, or your
acolyte, let's say, or even my coadjutor, I might refuse exactly as
you suggest. I can't imagine a question asked by our calde that I
wouldn't feel it was my duty to answer fully and clearly, however.
What's troubling you?'
Silk ran his fingers through his hair. 'When the calde died, Your
Cognizance, did you--did anyone--protest the Ayuntamiento's
decision not to hold an election?'
Quetzal nodded, as if to himself, and passed a trembling hand
across his hairless scalp, a gesture similar to Silk's yet markedly
different. 'The short answer, if I intended nothing more than a
short answer, would be yes. I did. So did various others. You
deserve more than a short answer, though. You deserve a
complete explanation. In the meantime, that lucky young man's
body lies half consumed on the altar. I saw it from your window.
You indicate that you're not inclined to plead your office to
excuse disobedience. Will you follow me into the street and help
me do what can be done there? When we're finished, I'll answer
you fully.'
Crouched behind the remaining wall of a fire-gutted shop, Maytera
Mint studied her subordinates' faces. Zoril looked fearful, Lime
stunned, and the big, black-bearded man (she found she had
forgotten his name, if she had ever heard it) resolute. 'Now, then,'
she said.
Why it's just like talking to the class, she thought. No different at
all. I wish I had a chalkboard,
'Now then, we've just had news, and it's bad news, I don't intend
to deny that. But it isn't unexpected news. Not to me, and I hope to
none of you. We've got Guards penned up in the Alambrera, where
they're supposed to pen up other people.'
She smiled, hoping they appreciated the irony. 'Anyone would
expect that the Ayuntamiento would send its people help. Certainly
I expected it, though I hoped it wouldn't be quite so prompt. But it's
come, and it seems to me that we can do any of three things.' She
held up three fingers. 'We can go on attacking the Alambrera,
hoping we can take it before they get here.' One finger down. 'We
can withdraw.' Another finger down. 'Or we can leave the Alambrera
as it is and fight the reinforcements before they can get inside.'
The last finger down. 'What do you suggest, Zoril?'
'If we withdraw, we won't be doing what the goddess said for us to.'
The black-bearded man snorted.
'She told us to capture the Alambrera and tear it down,' Maytera
Mint reminded Zoril. 'We've tried, but we haven't been able to.
What we've got to decide, really, is should we go on trying until
we're interrupted? Or rest awhile until we feel stronger, knowing
that they'll be stronger too? Or should we see to it that we're not
interrupted. Lime?'
She was a lank woman of forty with ginger-colored hair that
Maytera Mint had decided was probably dyed. 'I don't think we can
think _only_ about what the goddess said. If she just wanted it torn
down, she could have done it herself. She wants us to do it.'
Maytera Mint nodded. 'I'm in complete agreement.'
'We're mortals, so we've got to do it as mortals.' Lime gulped. 'I
don't have as many people following me as the rest of you, and most
of mine are women.'
'There's nothing wrong with that,' Maytera Mint assured her. 'So
am I. So is the goddess, or at least she's female like us. We know
she's Pas's wife and seven times a mother. As for your not having
lots of followers, that's not the point. I'd be happy to listen to
somebody who didn't have any, if she had good, workable ideas.'
'What I was trying to say--' A gust of wind carried dust and
smoke into their council; Lime fanned her face with one long, flat
hand. 'Is most of mine don't have much to fight with. Just kitchen
knives, a lot of them. Eight, I think it is, have needlers, and there's
one who runs a stable and has a pitchfork.'
Maytera Mint made a mental note.
'So what I was going to say is they're feeling left out. Discouraged,
you know?'
Maytera Mint assured her that she did.
'So if we go home, I think some will stay there. But if we can beat
these new Hoppies that're coming, they could get slug guns. They'd
feel better about themselves, and us, too.'
'A very valid point.'
'Bison here--'
Maytera Mint made another note: 'Bison' was clearly the black-bearded
man; she resolved to use his name whenever she could until
it was fixed in her memory.
'Bison thinks they won't fight. And they won't, not the way he
wants them to. But if they had slug guns, they'd shoot all day if you
told them to, Maytera. Or if you told them to go someplace and
Hoppies tried to stop them.'
'You're for attacking the relief column, Lime?'
Lime nodded.
Bison said, 'She's for it as long as somebody else does the
fighting. I'm for it, too, and we'll do the fighting.'
'The fighting among ourselves, you mean, Bison?' Maytera Mint
shook her head. 'That sort of fighting will never bring back the
Charter, and I'm quite sure it isn't what the goddess intended. But
