Gene Wolfe: On Blue's waters

“That’s right,” I told him, “you can fly, and it’s a wonderful accomplishment. You can soar above the clouds on your own, exactly like we did on the Trivigaunti airship. I envy you.”

“Good boat!”

I offered to take over the steering and give Evensong a chance to rest, if she would tend my pole; but she refused. “You won’t stop no matter how pretty the place is, and I’m hungry.”

“You’re never hungry,” I told her. She must be hungry at times, surely, and she was very hungry the first time we spoke with Hari Mau’s Hannese prisoners; but she never talks about how hungry she is, or admits it when I ask. Set a roast fowl before her, and she will accept a wing, clean the bones until they shine, and announce herself satisfied.

How green everything is after the rains!

We have stopped here to cook our fish and rice, and have decided to travel no farther today. We left Gaon before shadeup, and are not likely to find another place as pleasant as this if we travel on. It is a tiny island now, an isle I will call it, although I feel sure it must have been part of the riverbank before the rains. The river must cover it from time to time and drown any trees that try to take root on it; there is only this soft green grass, spangled with little flowers of every imaginable color that bloom the moment the rainy season ends and set seed in a wink.

I have been studying them, my nose four fingers from the soft, rich soil that nourishes them. To say that they are simply purple and blue would be quite false; they are every shade of both and more besides, some as blue as the sky, and some as purple as evening flowing over the sea. And red as well (various tinctures of red, I ought to say), yellow, orange, white, off-white, and even a dusky russet. Pink and yellow are the most attractive of all colors; the women who bought those pen cases were right.

I look at Evensong sleeping, and think again: yellow and pink are the most beautiful of colors. We cooked and ate, and made love among the flowers. I will catch another fish or two for her while she sleeps. We will eat a second time under the stars, and sleep. Rise early and travel on. I wish I could be certain that New Viron is on the coast of the sea to which this Nadi of ours runs. I believe it must be, but I cannot be sure.

Oreb has rejoined me. Somehow that has made it possible for me to sit down here and rub my feet, and write as long as these few sheets last. I will not begin this entry by telling you where I am or how things stand with me. I do not know where I am-or how anything stands with me.

The sun had scarcely set when I felt their wings. I write “felt” because one cannot really hear them. They make no more noise when they fly than owls. Looking up, I saw two, so high that they were in sunlight although the Short Sun’s light had vanished from our isle. “Bad things,” Oreb solemnly declared them. “Things fly.”

“You’re right,” I told him, “they are indeed evil beings. But they’re bringing good news. Hari Mau has fallen upon the enemy.” The inhumi came looking for me, pretty clearly, as soon as the Hannese broke.

“This is very bad.” Evensong shook her head; she may have been frightened-no doubt she was-but her impassive face showed nothing.

“This is very good,” I told her. “It means you can go back home to your parents in Han.”

“No!”

Trying to sound gentle I said, “I married Nettle before you were born, and married half a dozen other women before you were given to me by the Man. You owe me nothing at all. In fact, it is I who owe you, and I owe you a great deal.” I began pulling off my rings.

“I am your only wife!” She shook her little fist.

“You know that isn’t true.”

“Where are the others, Rajan? You cannot show them to me!”

I dropped my rings into her lap, and refused them when she tried to give them back.

After a great deal of shouting, she put them into a pocket in the sleeve of her gown, saying, “Maybe it’s a long way to New Viron and we will need these.”

I agreed, but thought to myself that it was an even longer way from New Viron to her family in Han. When she decided to go back there, as I felt certain she would before long, she might have to buy passage on a dozen boats.

Aloud I said, “Good. Thank you for accepting them. I want you to take these too.” I gave her Choora and my short sword. “We may have to fight before the night is over, and you can fight better than I with those. I have my azoth.” I may have tapped its jewel-studded hilt confidently-the Outsider, at least, knows how hard I tried to-but I felt very weak and ill at that moment.

“I have seen that sword. It has no blade.”

I told her she might see its blade, too, before shadeup; and that she would not enjoy the sight.

“Bad fight,” Oreb croaked.

I knew that he was right; they would wait until they were so many they felt confident of victory and rush us when we least expected it. Since it was not blood but my death they wanted, some might well have needlers and other weapons.

As we embraced beside the fire, Evensong whispered, “You know their secret. You could destroy them.”

“Yes. I couldn’t kill them here and now, if that’s what you mean; but I know how they might be returned to the mere vermin that they once were-mindless, hideous, blood-drinking animals seeking their prey in Green’s jungles.”

I stared into the embers of the fire that we felt we could not let die, remembering the time that Krait had crept out of the nose, how we had embraced and wept (his tears of pale green slime that stained my tunic) while the other passengers slept.

“ Father…? Horn…? ” His breath still smelled of blood, Tuz’s, as I learned a few minutes later.

I sat up, thinking in confused way that Sinew had become Krait, or Krait Sinew.

“They sleep. I wanted to warn you.”

“Krait? Is that you?”

“Your sentries. I bit one.” Krait’s voice betrayed his uncertainty.

“I understand, and if it was one of the sentries, he deserved it, and worse. But Krait -”

“Ours too. We - we can’t do it, Father. We don’t have the discipline.”

“And you’re ashamed of that, as you should be. Well, neither do we, apparently.”

“He-hold-fire, He-take-bow, and He-sing-spell stand guard for us because we make them. But when it’s quiet and everyone else sleeps-”

One of my sleeping men had stirred. For a while neither Krait nor I dared speak.

“If you could break in suddenly…”

“We’ll try - but Krait, you’re risking your life just to tell me. I’m not sure I could get them to turn you loose again.”

I believe he shrugged; the Short Sun was nearly dead ahead then, and in the near darkness of Number One Freight Bay it was difficult to be sure. “There are only two needlers, and I’ve bent some needles in one.”

Evensong shook my shoulder. “You must tell me.”

“I won’t break my oath. My son confided it to me as he lay dying. If I were to betray him now, I would have to die, too, because I couldn’t live with myself.”

“Then say as much as you can.” She had never asked that before.

“About him? He was an inhumu. We called him Krait, and Seawrack and I called-”

“That is the woman who sings?”

“Yes, though she is not singing now.” I tried to collect my thoughts.

“It was a mere lie at first, Evensong. Something to tell people in Wichote and Pajarocu who wanted to know why Krait was with us. It remained a lie as long as there was no danger to Krait but me, and none to me but Krait. Once the lander took off everything changed, and Krait and I discovered that we merely supposed we had been lying.”