brought, her spirits lifted. When we traced the insignia of old houses, she talked of friends of her own station and the marriages they had made, good and bad, and how such and such a one had exchanged her future for a ruined stronghold because she had seen it in a dream; and how another, who had played at dolls with her when they were children, was the mistress now of so many thousands of leagues. “And there must be a new Autarch and perhaps an Autarchia sometime, you know, Severian. Things can go on as they have for a long while. But not forever.”
“I know little of the court, Chatelaine.”
“The less you know, the happier you will be.” She paused, white teeth nibbling her delicately curved lower lip. “When my mother was in labor, she had the servants carry her to the Vatic Fountain, whose virtue is to reveal what is to come. It prophesied I should sit a throne. Thea has always envied me that. Still, the Autarch...”
“Yes?”
“It would be better if I didn't say too much. The Autarch is not like other people. No matter how I may talk sometimes, on all of Urth there is no one like him.”
“I know that.”
“Then that is enough for you. Look here,” she held up the brown book. “Here it says, ‘
I did not see what she meant, and said nothing.
“No one really knows what the Autarch will do. That's what it all comes down to. Or Father Inire either. When I first came to court I was told, as a great secret, that it was Father Inire who really determined the policy of the Commonwealth. When I had been there two years, a man very highly placed — I can't even tell you his name — said it was the Autarch who ruled, though to those in the House Absolute it might seem that it was Father Inire. And last year a woman whose judgment I trust more than any man's confided that it really made no difference, because they were both as unfathomable as the pelagic deeps, and if one decided things while the moon waxed and the other when the wind was in the east, no one could tell the difference anyway. I thought that was wise counsel until I realized she was only repeating something I had said to her myself half a year before.” Thecla fell silent, reclining on the narrow bed, her dark hair spread on the pillow.
“At least,” I said, “you were right to have confidence in that woman. She had taken her opinions from a trustworthy source.”
As if she had not heard me, she murmured, “But it's all true, Severian. No one knows what they may do. I might be freed tomorrow. It's quite possible. They must know by now that I am here. Don't look at me like that. My friends will speak with Father Inire. Perhaps some may even mention me to the Autarch. You know why I was taken, don't you?”
“Something about your sister.”
“My half-sister Thea is with Vodalus. They say she is his paramour, and I think it extremely likely.”
I recalled the beautiful woman at the top of the stairs in the House Azure and said, “I think I saw your half- sister once. It was in the necropolis. There was an exultant with her who carried a cane-sword and was very handsome. He told me he was Vodalus. The woman had a heart-shaped face and a voice that made me think of doves. Was that she?”
“I suppose so. They want her to betray him to save me, and I know she won't. But when they discover that, why shouldn't they let me go?” I spoke of something else until she laughed and said, “You are so intellectual, Severian. When you're made a journeyman, you'll be the most cerebral torturer in history — a frightful thought.”
“I was under the impression you enjoyed such discussions, Chatelaine.”
“Only now, because I can't get out. Though it may come as a shock to you, when I was free I seldom devoted time to metaphysics. I went dancing instead, and pursued the peccary with pardine limers. The learning you admire was acquired when I was a girl, and sat with my tutor under the threat of the stick.”
“We need not talk of such things, Chatelaine, if you would rather we not.” She stood and thrust her face into the center of the bouquet I had picked for her. “Flowers are better theology than folios, Severian. Is it beautiful in the necropolis where you got these? You aren't bringing me the flowers from graves, are you? Cut flowers someone brought?”
“No. These were planted long ago. They come up every year.” At the slot in the door, Drotte said, “Time to go,” and I stood up.
“Do you think you may see her again? The Chatelaine Thea, my sister?”
“I don't think so, Chatelaine.”
“If you should, Severian, will you tell her about me? They may not have been able to communicate with her. There will be no treason in that — you'll be doing the Autarch's work.”
“I will, Chatelaine.” I was stepping through the doorway.
“She won't betray Vodalus, I know, but there may be some compromise.” Drotte closed the door and turned the key. It had not escaped me that Thecla had not asked how her sister and Vodalus had come to be in our ancient — and by such people as themselves, forgotten — necropolis. The corridor, with its lines of metal doors and cold-sweating walls, seemed dark after the lamp in the cell. Drotte began to talk of an expedition he and Roche had made to a lion pit across Gyoll; over the sound of his voice I heard Thecla calling faintly, “Remind her of the time we sewed Josepha's doll.”
The lilies faded as lilies do, and the dark death roses came into bloom. I cut them and carried them to Thecla, nigrescent purple flecked with scarlet. She smiled and recited:
