only solace.'
Some men standing in the aisles were opening the windows there;
little rain if any seemed to be blowing in. The storm was over,
Maytera Mint decided, or nearly over.
'So our sacrifice this morning is not merely that which we offer to
the undying gods each day at this time if a victim is granted us. It is
our dear Maytera Rose's last sacrifice, by which I mean that it is not
just that of the white bull and the other beasts outside, but the
sacrifice of Maytera herself.
'Sacrifices are of two kinds. In the first, we send a gift. In the
second, we share a meal. Thus my dear sib and I dare hope it will
not shock you when I tell you that my dear sib has taken for her use
some of the marvelous devices that sustained our beloved Maytera
Rose. Even if we were disposed to forget her, as I assure you we are
not, we could never do so now. They will remind us both of her life
of service. Though I know that her spirit treads the Aureate Path, I
shall always feel that something of her lives on in my sib.'
Now, or never.
'We are delighted that so many of you have come to honor her, as
it is only right you should. But there are many more outside, men
and women, children too, who would honor her if they could, but
were unable to find places in our manteion. It seems a shame, for
her sake and for the gods' as well.
'There is an expedient, as some of you must stirely know, that can
be adopted on such occasions as this. It is to move the casket, the
altar, and the Sacred Window itself out into the street temporarily.'
They would lose their precious seats. She half expected them to
riot, but they did not.
She was about to say, 'I propose--' but caught herself in time; the
decision was hers, the responsibility for it and its execution hers.
'That is what we will do today.' The thick, leather-bound Chrasmologic
Writings lay on the ambion before her; she picked it up.
'Horn? Horn, are you here?'
He waved his hand, then stood so she could see him.
'Horn was one of Maytera's students. Horn, I want you to choose
five other boys to help you with her casket. The altar and the Sacred
Window are both very heavy, I imagine. We will need volunteers to
move those.'
Inspiration struck. 'Only the very strongest men, please. Will
twenty or thirty of the strongest men present please come forward?
My sib and I will direct you.'
Their rush nearly overwhelmed her. Half a minute later, the altar
was afloat upon a surging stream of hands and arms, bobbing and
rocking like a box in the lake as a human current bore it down the
aisle toward the door.
The Sacred Window was more difficult, not because it was
heavier, but because the three-hundred-year-old clamps that held it
to the sanctuary floor had rusted shut and bad to be hammered. Its
sacred cables trailed behind it as it, too, was carried out the door, at
times spitting the crackling violet fire that vouched for the immanent
presence of divinity.
'You did wonderfully, sib. Just wonderfully!' Maytera Marble had
followed Maytera Mint out of the manteion; now she laid a hand
upon her shoulder. 'Taking everything outside for a viaggiatory!
However did you think of it?'
'I don't know. It was just that they were still in the street, most of
them, and we were in there. And we couldnn't let them in as we
usually do. Besides,' Maytera Mint smiled impishly, 'think of all the
blood, sib. It would've taken us days to clean up the manteion
afterward.'
There were far too many victims to pen in Maytera Marble's little
garden. Their presenters had been told very firmly that they would
have to hold them until it was time to lead them in, with the result
that Sun Street looked rather like the beast-sellers quarter in the
market. How many would be here, Maytera Mint wondered, if it
hadn't been for the rain? She shuddered. As it was, the victims and
their presenters looked soaked but cheerful, steaming in the sunshine
of Sun Street.
'You're going to need something to stand on,' Maytera Marble
warned her, 'or they'll never hear you.'
'Why not here on the steps?' Maytera Mint inquired.
'Friends...' To her own ears, her voice sounded weaker than
ever here in the open air; she tried to imagine herself a trumpeter1
then a trumpet. 'Friends! I won't repeat what I said inside. This is
Maytera Rose's last sacrifice. I know that she knows what you've
done for her, and is glad.
'Now my sib and her helpers are going to build a sacred fire on the
altar. We will need a big one today--'
They cheered, surprising her.
'We'll need a big one, and some of the wood will be wet. But the
whole sky is going to be our god gate this afternoon, letting in Lord
Pas's fire from the sun.'
Like so many brightly-colored ants, a straggling line of little girls
had already begun to carry pieces of split cedar to the altar, where
Maytera Marble broke the smallest pieces.
'It is Patera Silk's custom to consult the Writings before sacrificing.
Let us do so too.' Maytera Mint held up the book and opened it at random.
<blockquote>
Whatever it is we are, it is a little flesh, breath, and the ruiing
part. As if you were dying, despise the flesh; it is blood, bones, and
network, a tissue of nerves and veins. See the breath also, what
kind of thing it is: air, and never the same, but at every moment sent
Out and drawn in. The third is the ruling part. No longer let this part
be enslaved, no longer let it be pulled by its strings like a
marionette. No longer complain of your lot, nor shrink from the future.
</blockquote>
<spacer Type='horizontal' Size=32>
'Patera Silk has told us often that each passage in the Writings
holds two meanings at least.' The words slipped out before she
