He let his tunic fall again, and picked up the azoth to examine its pommel, running his fingers across the faceted gem there. That was it, and there had been no miracle. Musk had reversed his knife with a motion too swift to be seen as he had thrust, striking hard with its pommel, which must itself be in some fashion pointed or sharply angled.
And he himself, Patera Silk, the Outsider’s servant, had been ready to kill Musk, believing that Musk had killed him. He had not known that he could come so easily to murder. He would have to watch his temper, around Musk particularly.
The gem, which he had supposed colorless, caught a ray of sunlight from the god-gate in the roof and flashed a watery green. For some reason, it reminded him of her eyes. He put it to his lips, his thoughts full of things that could never be.
To spare his broken ankle, he had waited until Moorgrass had finished washing and dressing the body, so that he might ride back to the manteion in Loach’s wagon.
They would need a coffin, and ice. Ice was very costly, but having accepted a hundred cards from Orchid, he could not refuse her daughter ice. Mutes could be engaged easily and cheaply. On the other hand—
Loach’s wagon lurched to a stop, and Silk looked up in surprise at the weather-stained facade of his own manteion. Loach inquired, “Lay her on the altar for now, Patera?”
He nodded; it was what they always did.
“Let me help you down, Patera. About my pay—”
The fisc was closed, of course, and would not open at all on Scylsday. “See me after sacrifice tomorrow,” Silk said. “No, on Molpsday. Not before then.” The icemongers might cash Orchid’s draft for him if he bought enough ice, but there was no point in relying on that.
Auk came out of the mantion, waved, and wedged the door open; the sight of him snapped Silk out of his calculations. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he called. “There was a death.”
Auk’s heavy, brutal face took on what seemed intended as an expression of concern. “Friend of yours, Patera?”
“No,” Silk said. “I didn’t know her.”
Auk smiled. He helped Loach carry Orpine’s shrouded body inside, where a new coffin, plain but sturdy-looking, waited on a catafalque.
Maytera Marble rose from the shadows, the silver gleam of her face almost ghostly. “I arranged for these, Patera. The man you sent said that we’d require them. They can be returned, if they’re not suitable.”
“We’ll need a better casket tomorrow.” Silk fumbled in his pockets, and at length produced Orchid’s draft. “Take this, please. It’s payable to bearer. Get ice, half a load of ice, and see if they’ll cash it for you. Flowers, too. Arrange for a grave, if it’s not too late.”
A tiny, but abrupt and uncoordinated, movement of her head as she glanced at the draft betrayed Maytera Marble’s surprise.
“You’re right.” Silk nodded as she looked up at him. “It’s a great deal. I’ll get the victims in the morning, a white heifer if I can find one, and a rabbit for Kypris—several, I ought to say. And a black lamb and a black cock for Tartaros; I pledged those last night. But we must have the ice tonight, and if you could take care of it, Maytera, I would be exceedingly grateful.”
“For Kypris the—? All right, Patera. I’ll try.” She hurried away, the rapid taps of her footfalls like the soft rattle of a snare drum. Silk shook his head and looked about for Loach, but Loach had already left, unobserved.
Auk said, “If there’s ice left in Viron, she’ll find it. She teach you, Patera?”
“No. I wish now that she had—she and Maytera Mint. But I should have asked her to arrange for mutes. Well, it can be taken care of tomorrow. Can we talk here, Auk, or would you prefer to go to the manse?”
“Have you eaten yet, Patera? I was hoping you’d have a bite of supper with me while you told me what happened last night.”
“I couldn’t pay my share, I’m afraid.”
“I asked you, Patera. I wouldn’t let you pay if you wanted to. But you listen here.” Auk’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m in this as much as you are. It was me that helped you. I got a right to know.”
“Of course. Of course.” Silk sank wearily into a seat near the catafalque. “Sit down, please. It hurts my ankle to stand. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. To tell the truth, I need to tell someone—to talk all of it over, and other things, too. Everything that happened today. And I’d like very much to go to dinner with you. I’m beginning to like you, and I’m terribly hungry; but I can’t walk far. Much as I appreciate your generosity, perhaps we should dine together some other night.”
“We don’t have to leg it over to the Orilla. There’s a nice place right down the street. They got the tenderest, juiciest roasts you ever cut on the side of your flipper.” Auk grinned, showing square, yellow teeth that looked fully capable of severing a human hand at the wrist. “Suppose I was to buy an augur—one that really needed it—a dimber uphill dinner. Whatever he wanted. That’d be a meritorious act, wouldn’t it?”
“I suppose so. Nevertheless, you must consider that he may not deserve one.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” Auk strolled to the coffin and pulled down the shroud. “Who is she?”
“Orchid’s daughter Orpine. That was nicely done, but you knew her, I’m sure.”
“Her
Musk had caught sight of his eagle before he stepped out of the floater. She was at the top of a blasted pine, silhouetted against the brightening skylands.
