Morning
“You are awake,” Dr. Talos said. “I trust you slept well?”
“I had a strange dream.” I stood and looked about.
“There's no one here but ourselves.” As though he were reassuring a child, Dr. Talos gestured toward Baldanders and the sleeping women.
“I dreamed my dog — he has been lost for years now — came back and lay beside me. I could still feel the warmth of his body when I woke.”
“You were lying beside a fire,” Dr. Talos pointed out. “There has been no dog here.”
“A man, dressed much as I am.”
Dr. Talos shook his head. “I could not have failed to see him.”
“You might have dozed.”
“Only earlier in the evening. I have been awake for the past two watches.”
“I'll guard the stage and properties for you,” I said, “if you'd like to sleep now.” The truth was that I was afraid to lie down again. Dr. Talos seemed to hesitate, then said, “That's very kind of you,” and stiffly lowered himself onto my now dew-soaked blanket.
I took his chair, turning it so I could watch the fire. For some time I was alone with my thoughts, which were at first of my dream, then of the Claw, the mighty relic chance had dropped into my hands. I felt very glad when Jolenta began to stir and at last rose and stretched her lush limbs against the scarlet-shot sky. “Is there water?” she asked. “I want to wash.” I told her that I thought Baldanders had carried the water for our supper from the direction of the copse, and she nodded and went off to look for a stream. Her appearance, at least, distracted my thoughts; I found myself glancing from her retreating figure to Dorcas's prone one. Jolenta's beauty was perfect. No other woman I have ever seen could approach it — Thecla's towering stateliness made her seem coarse and mannish in comparison, Dorcas's blond delicacy as meager and childlike as Valeria, the forgotten girl I had encountered in the Atrium of Time.
Yet I was not attracted to Jolenta as I had been to Agia; I did not love her as I had loved Thecla; and I did not desire the intimacy of thought and feeling that had sprung up between Dorcas and me, or think it possible. Like every man who ever saw her I desired her, but I wanted her as one wants a woman in a painting. And even while I admired her, I could not help but notice (as I had on the stage the night before) how clumsily she walked, she who appeared so graceful in repose. Those round thighs chafed one another, that admirable flesh weighed her until she carried her voluptuousness as another woman would have carried a child in her belly. When she returned from the copse with drops of clear water shining in her lashes, and her face as pure and perfect as the curve of the rainbow, I felt still almost as though I were alone.
“... I said, there's fruit if you want it. The doctor had me save some last night so we'd have something for breakfast.” Her voice was husky and slightly breathless. One listened as if to music.
“I'm sorry,” I told her. “I was thinking. Yes, I'd like some fruit. That's very kind of you.”
“I won't get it for you, you'll have to fetch it yourself. It's there, behind that stand of armor.”
The armor to which she pointed was actually of cloth stretched over a wire frame and painted silver. Behind it I found an old basket containing grapes, an apple, and a pomegranate.
“I'd like something too,” Jolenta said. “Those grapes, I think.” I gave her the grapes, and considering that Dorcas would probably prefer the apple, put it near her hand and took the pomegranate for myself. Jolenta held up her grapes. “Crown under glass by some exultant's gardener it's too soon for natural ones. I don't think this strolling life's going to be too bad. And I get a third of the money.”
I asked if she had not trouped with the doctor and his giant before.
“You don't remember me, do you? I didn't think so.” She popped a grape into her mouth and so far as I could see swallowed it whole. “No, I haven't. I did have a rehearsal, although with that girl thrust into the story so suddenly we had to change everything.”
“I must have disturbed things more than she did. She was on stage much less.”
“Yes, but you were supposed to be there. Dr. Talos took your roles when we practiced as well as his own, and told me what you were supposed to say.
“He depended on my meeting him, then.”
The doctor himself sat up at that, almost with a snap. He looked wide awake. “Of course, of course. We told you where we'd be when we were at breakfast, and if you hadn't appeared last night, we would've presented ‘Great Scenes From’ and waited another day. Jolenta, you won't be getting a third of the receipts now, but a quarter — it's only fair that we share with the other woman.” Jolenta shrugged and swallowed another grape.
“Wake her now, Severian. We should be going. I'll rouse Baldanders, and we can divide the money and pack.”
“I won't be going with you,” I said.
Dr. Talos looked at me quizzically.
“I have to return to the city. I have business with the Order of Pelerines.”
“You can remain with us until we reach the main road, then. It will be your most expeditious route back.” Perhaps because he refrained from questioning me, I felt he knew more than what he had said indicated.
Ignoring our talk, Jolenta smothered a yawn. “I'll have to have more sleep before tonight, or my eyes won't look as good as they should.” I said, “I will, but when we reach the road, I must go.” Dr. Talos had already turned away to wake the giant, shaking him and striking his shoulders with his slender cane. “As you wish,” he said, and I could not be sure whether he was addressing Jolenta or me. I stroked Dorcas's forehead and whispered that we would have to move on now.
