Blood had several floaters, obviously, just as he had implied. Silk said, “No, not with you. I came with another man, but he left before I did.”
“I didn’t think so. See, I tell them about Doc Crane on the way out. Sometimes they get worried about the girls and boys. Know what I mean, Patera?”
“I think so.”
“So I tell them forget it. We got a doctor right there to check everybody over, and if they got some kind of little problem of their own … I’m talking about the older bucks, Patera, you know? Why, maybe he could help them out. It’s good for Doc, because sometimes they give him something. And it’s good for me, too. I’ve had quite a few of them thank me for telling them, after the party.”
“I fear I have nothing to give you, my son,” Silk said stiffly. It was perfectly true, he assured himself; the two cards in his pocket were already spent, or as good as spent. They would buy a fine victim for Scylsday, less than two days off.
“That’s all right, Patera. I didn’t figure you did. It’s a gift to the Chapter. That’s how I look at it.”
“I can give you my blessing, however, when we separate. And I will.”
“That’s all right, Patera,” the driver said. “I’m not much for sacrifice and all that.”
“All the more reason you may require it, my son,” Silk told him, and could not keep from smiling at the sepulchral tones of his own voice. It was a good thing the driver could not see him! With Blood’s villa far behind them, the burglar was fading and the augur returning; he had sounded exactly like Patera Pike.
Which was he, really? He pushed aside the thought.
“Now this here, this feels just like a boat, and no mistake. Don’t it, Patera?”
Their floater was rolling like a barrel as it dodged pedestrians and rattling, mule-drawn wagons. The road had become a street in which narrow houses vied for space.
Silk found it necessary to grasp the leather-covered bar on the back of the driver’s seat, a contrivance he had previously assumed was intended only to facilitate boarding and departure. “How high will these go?” he asked. “I’ve always wondered.”
“Four cubits empty, Patera. Or that’s what this one’ll do, anyhow. That’s how you test them—run them up as high as they’ll go and measure. The higher she floats, the better shape everything’s in.”
Silk nodded to himself. “You couldn’t go over one of these wagons, then, instead of around it?”
“No, Patera. We got to have ground underneath to push against, see? And we’d be getting too far away from it. You remember that wall we cleared when I took the shortcut?”
“Certainly.” Silk tightened his grip on the bar. “It must have been three cubits at least.”
“Not quite, Patera. It’s a little lower than that at the place where I went over. But what I was going to say was we couldn’t have done it if we’d been full of passengers like we were coming out. We’d have had to stay on the road then.”
“I understand. Or at any rate, I think I do.”
“But look up ahead, Patera.” The floater slowed. “See him lying in the road?”
Silk sat up straight to peer over the driver’s liveried shoulder. “I do now. By Phaea’s fair face, I hope he’s not dead.”
“Drunk more likely. Watch now, and we’ll float right across him. You won’t even feel him, Patera. Not no more than he’ll feel you.”
Silk clenched his teeth, but as promised felt nothing. When the prostrate man was behind them, he said, “I’ve seen floaters go over childen like that. Children playing in the street. Once a child was hit in the forehead by the cowling, right in front of our palaestra.”
“I’d never do that, Patera,” the driver assured Silk virtuously. “A child might hold up his arm and get it in the blowers.”
Silk hardly heard him. He attempted to stand, bumped his head painfully against the floater’s transparent canopy, and compromised on a crouch. “Wait! Not so fast, please. Do you see that man with the two donkeys? Stop for a moment and let me out. I want a word with him.”
“I’ll just put down the canopy, Patera. That’ll be a little safer.”
Auk glanced sourly at the floater when it settled onto the roadway beside him. His eyes widened when he saw Silk.
“May every god bless you tonight,” Silk began. “I want to remind you of what you promised in the tavern.”
Auk opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it.
“You gave me your word that you’d come to manteion next Scylsday, remember? I want to make certain you’ll keep that promise, not only for your sake but for mine. I must talk to you again.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Auk nodded. “Maybe tomorrow if I’m not too busy. Scylsday for sure. Did you…?”
“It went precisely as you had predicted,” Silk told him. “However, our manteion’s safe for the time being, I believe. Good night, and Phaea bless you. Knock at the manse if you don’t find me in the manteion.”
Auk said something more; but the driver had overheard Silk’s farewell, and the transparent dome of the canopy had risen between them; it latched, and Auk’s voice was drowned by the roar of the blowers.
“You better watch your step, talking to characters like that, Patera,” the driver remarked with a shake of his head. “That sword’s just for show, and there’s a needier underneath that dirty tunic. Want to bet?”
“You would win such a bet, I’m certain,” Silk admitted, “but no needier can turn a good man to evil. Not even devils can do that.”
