Gene Wolfe - Return to the Whorl

What seems certain is that without the azoth, Gyrfalcon's needier, and the slug guns of his bodyguard, the subject of this volume would have perished, and the wedding party with him.

Afterward, he visited Patera Remora, and they sat side by side talking for a time in the little garden between the manse and the manteion. "It is-ah-coming," Patera Remora told him. "In process, hey? If not in my, er, time, then in my acolyte's we will have a working Window, um, Horn."

He said, "Without Mainframe, no god can come to it, Your Cognizance."

"Better, hum? Better so. In-ah-Viron, eh? Thirty years? In, um, Old Viron, as we say now."

He smiled. "No doubt you're right, Your Cognizance."

"What all men, and most-ah-females, require is not theophany, not the divine, um, palpability. Tangibility. It is the-ha!-possibility."

"And yet Mainframe, too, will come. Not in your lifetime, I believe. In your acolyte's."

"He, um, welcome it." The Prolocutor nodded to himself, tossing back the lank gray hair that had fallen over his eyes.

His visitor gave him a piercing glance. "Not you?"

"Er, yes. To be sure."

"It would be presumptuous-very presumptuous-for me to proffer advice, Your Cognizance."

"Yet I should welcome it, er, Horn."

Oreb corrected him.

"Patera Quetzal de-emphasized the worship of Great Pas, Your Cognizance, knowing that Pas was dead. He chose-doubtless wisely-to emphasize that of Scylla instead."

Patera Remora patted his forehead with a worn and yellowed, but neatly folded, handkerchief. "I remember it well." It was the first warm day of summer.

"You, Your Cognizance, might choose to emphasize that of the Outsider, for example."

"I, um."

"He, at least-"

"Good god," Oreb remarked.

"Will not come to your Window, Your Cognizance. I believe I can assure Your Cognizance of that. Not in your time, nor in your acolyte's, nor in his."

Patera Remora nodded slowly at first, then more rapidly. "I, er, comprehend."

"Mainframe may reach Blue, Your Cognizance, before the Whorl puts out again; but Mainframe can never have the power here that it had there, the reins of the sun. Meanwhile it might be well for New Viron-for all of Blue-if you were to exercise your discretion."

"I, um, have. In another matter, hey? But-ah-first, Pat- Er, Horn. May I say that you are most, um, perspicacious? You are correct. I, ah, apprehend it now. I would, um… On my own, eh? Having been given the, er, hint? No, intimation. By you. During the-ah-the ceremony, eh? Your, um, son's nuptials. I would have, um, come wise?" He chuckled.

"I feel certain you would, Your Cognizance."

"Was it this? This the, er, topic? Upon which you, eh?"

"No, Your Cognizance." His visitor sighed. "Or at least, only partially."

"In that case, um…?"

"It is wrong to take one's own life."

He waited for a reply, but none came.

"Is it also wrong to put oneself in harm's way, in the hope that one's life may be taken?"

"Poor Silk!" Oreb exclaimed, and fluttered from his shoulder to an overhanging branch.

"You, um, did. You arranged for the… ah? At the wedding?"

"Yes, Your Cognizance."

Remora pushed back his sweat-damp hair with bony fingers. "Not, um, sufficient. Tell me."

"Your Cognizance will recall the first inhumu, who attacked Hide. His name was Juganu, or at least that is the name by which I knew him. He was infatuated with a human woman, a murderess. He wanted to free her. She is in a prison, as I ought to have told Your Cognizance."

"You, um, opposed this? Quite right."

"I opposed it, Your Cognizance, in such a way as to stir up Juganu's ill will as much as possible." Each hand warred with the other, twisting and tearing. "I didn't-I've searched my conscience on this, Your Cognizance. I didn't imagine that Juganu would enlist hundreds of his kind for a public attack."

Remora grunted.

"I believed it most probable that Juganu would come for me alone. I would feign sleep and permit him to drink his fill, which would be much. If I lived, so be it."

Remora nodded to himself. "But if you, hum?"

"So be it. Possibly he would bring a companion. I foresaw that. Possibly he would bring two or even three; in either case I would certainly die."

"So-um-et cetera, Patera?"

"Yes, exactly, Your Cognizance. It would be what I wanted. I wanted someone else to kill me, so that I would not bear the guilt myself. You know the result of my folly-the deaths of a round dozen people and hundreds of inhumi."

"Evil, eh? Vile, um, miscreations that deserve to-ah-perish, my son."

"Yes, Your Cognizance." He straightened up and squared his shoulders. "I have been on friendly terms with three, however. No, four, because I was briefly on such terms with Juganu himself. With two inhumus, Your Cognizance, and two inhumas. I made a covenant with evil, one I bitterly regret, though those I have known have been no worse than we. I wish to be shriven of that, as well. Shall we begin?"

"No. Urn, no." Remora shook his head. "First, Patera, you must tell me why you wish to-ah-ascend."

"Isn't it obvious?" His voice was angry, so much so that Oreb fled to a higher branch. "I failed! I gave my life, and still I failed."

Remora leaned back, his fingers forming a lofty steeple whose apex touched his chin. "My son, you-ah-adverted a moment ago that the, er, our attackers were no, um, not inferior to-ah-morally. I let it pass. Ignored it, hey?"

"Your Cognizance-"

A bony hand waved him to silence. "Hear me out. The-ahimplication, hum? We no better than, er, they are. It-ah-will not argue. Possibly. Possibly."

"Bad things!" Oreb declared with unshakable conviction.

"Worse things than birds," his master agreed, and added sadly, "but so are we. I thought perhaps-oh, never mind."

"Possibly," Remora repeated. "I-ah-concede that. I, er, myself-"

"I intend nothing personal, Your Cognizance, believe me."

"Um, do. Yet I myself, eh? Conscious, always conscious of many shortcomings. Now, um, Gyrfalcon, eh? A bad man? You would, um, acquiesce, my son?"

He shrugged. "Many people say he was, now that he's dead."

"Was Gyrfalcon as, er, iniquitous as an inhumu? As this, hum, Juganu you once-ah?"

"I imagine so."

"As do I. The-ah. Old Quetzal. Recollect him, Patera?"

"Of course."

"Knew, Lemur, eh? Many, um, discussions. I, er, likewise. With Gyrfalcon. I-ah-understood him. Boasting, eh? Yes, boasting. Don't often, hey? But the truth. Talk with, er, him. Dined. Shrived him, eh? A bad man. In-ah-concordance on that point. But heah. Hear me here, Patera."

"Yes, Your Cognizance."

"Gyrfalcon, um, dispatched you, eh? One of, um, five of, er, us. The worst. Possibly. Possibly the worst of the, er, group. Even he would not, um? Blame someone who, er, expired. So you told me. Who-ah--died in the attempt. Do you take my meaning, Patera?" Remora shook his head violently. "Not so bad a man as that, eh? Not so bad a man as you are, Patera?"

There was silence.

"Do you still, um?"

"Want to end it?" He sighed. "Yes, I suppose I do, really. Nettle will have Hoof and Hide and Vadsig. She'll be all right."

"No die!"

Remora smiled. "Who is Nettle, Patera?"

"My wife. You know her, surely."

"An, er, dark day for me, eh? Boasted. Now I'm about to-ahintrude. Did you, eh? And she? Husband. Lengthy absence, eh? One, um, expects the-hum-warm commerce."

"No, Your Cognizance. She didn't want to, and neither did I; but if we had, there would have been nothing wrong in that, surely."

"I, um, suspend judgment, hey? Shriving, likewise."

"You can't be so cruel, Your Cognizance."

"No? I, um, consider otherwise. You still, um? Reject the gift, hey? The gift of life, Patera. Look at me, eh? Look at me, and tell you no longer desire, er, release. Can you do it?"