and produced Musk's big needler and Hyacinth's small, gold-plated
one. After holding them up so that Silk could see them, he laid them
on the windowsill.
'The little one is hers,' Silk said. 'Hyacinth's. Could you see that
it's returned to her?'
Oosik nodded. 'I shall send it by a mutual acquaintance. What
about the large one?'
'The owner's dead. I suppose it's mine now.'
'I am too well mannered to ask if you killed him, but I hope he
was not one of our officers.'
'No,' Silk said, 'and no. I confess I was tempted to kill him several
times--as he was undoubtedly tempted to kill me--but I didn't. I've
only killed once, in self-defense. May I read Hyacinth's letter now?'
'If I can find it.' Oosik fumbled through Silk's clothes again, then
held up both the letters Silk had taken from the mantel in the manse
that morning. 'This other is from another augur. You have no
interest in it?'
'Not as much, I'm afraid. Who is it?'
'I have forgotten.' Oosik extracted the letter from its envelope
and unfolded it. ''Patera Remora, Coadjutor.' He wishes to see
you, or he did. You were to come to his suite in the Prolocutor's
Palace yesterday at three. You are more than a day late already,
Calde. Do you want it?'
'I suppose so,' Silk said; and Oosik tossed it on the bed.
Oosik rose, holding out Hyacinth's letter. 'This one you will not
wish to read while I watch, and I have urgent matters to attend to. I
may look in on you again, later this evening. Much later. If I am too
busy, I will see you in the morning, perhaps.' He tugged his
mustache. 'Will you think me a fool if I say I wish you well, Calde?
That if we were no longer opponents I should consider your
friendship an honor?'
'I'd think you were an estimable, honorable man,' Silk told him,
'which you are.'
'Thank you, Calde!' Oosik bowed, with a click of his booted heels.
'Colonel?'
'Your beads. I had forgotten. You will find them in a pocket of
the robe, I feel sure.' Oosik turned to go, but turned back. 'A
matter of curiosity. Are you familiar with the Palatine, Calde?'
Silk's right hand, holding Hyacinth's letter, had begun to tremble;
he pressed it against his knee so that Oosik would not see it. 'I've
been there.' By an effort of will, he kept his voice almost steady.
'Why do you ask?'
'Often, Calde?'
'Three times, I believe.' It was impossible to think of anything but
Hyacinth; he could as easily have said fifty, or never. 'Yes, three
times--once to the Palace, and twice to attend sacrifice at the Grand
Manteion.'
'Nowhere else?'
Silk shook his head.
'There is a place having a wooden figure of Thelxiepeia. As an
augur, you may know where it is.'
'There's an onyx image in the Grand Manteion--'
Oosik shook his head. 'In Ermine's, to the right as one enters the
sellaria. One sees an arch with greenery beyond it At the rear,
there is a pool with goldfish. She stands by it holding a mirror. The
lighting is arranged so that the pool is reflected in her mirror, and
her mirror in the pool. It is mentioned in that letter.' Oosik turned
upon his heel.
'Colonel, these needlers--'
He paused at the door. 'Do you intend to shoot your way to
freedom, Calde?' Without waiting for Silk's reply he went out,
leaving the door ajar behind him. Silk heard the sentry come to
attention, and Oosik say, 'You are dismissed. Return to the
guardroom immediately.'
Silk's hands were still shaking as he unfolded Hyacinth's letter; it
was on stationery the color of heavy cream, scrawled in violet ink,
with many flourishes.
<blockquote>
O My Darling Wee Flea:
I call you so not only because of the way you sprang from
my window, but because of the way you hopped into my
bed! How your lonely bloss has longed for a note from you!!!
You might have sent one by the kind friend who brought you
my gift, you know!
</blockquote>
That had been Doctor Crane, and Doctor Crane was dead--had
died in his arms that very morning.
<blockquote>
Now you have to tender me your thanks and so much more,
when next we meet! Don't you know that little place up on
the Palatine where Thelx holds up a mirror? _Hieraxday_.
<p class=r>Hy
</blockquote>
Silk closed his eyes. It was foolish, he told himself. Utterly foolish.
The semiliterate scribbling of a woman whose education had ended
at fourteen, a girl who had been given to her father's superior as a
household servant and concubine, who had scarcely read a book or
written a letter, and was trying to flirt, to be arch and girlish and
charming on paper. How his instructors at the schola would have sneered!
Utterly foolish, and she had called him darling, had said she
longed for him, had risked compromising herself and Doctor Crane
to send him this.
He read it again, refolded it, and returned it to its envelope, then
pushed aside the quilt and got up.
Oosik had intended him to go, of course--had intended him to
escape, or perhaps to be killed escaping. For a few seconds he tried
to guess which. Had Oosik been insincere in speaking of friendship?
