Gene Wolfe - Return to the Whorl

"It is indeed." The man Hound addressed waved his knobbed staff before him, although the light from his lantern showed no obstruction. "There should be a dead talus right here. I wonder what has become of it."

"Well, I wonder what's become of your friend Pig. I don't see him up ahead."

"You're right. Oreb, will you look for him, please? If he's in trouble, come back and tell us at once."

"Now that's a handy pet." Hound caught up. "You've been here before?"

"Twenty years ago. I had a slug gun instead of a stick then, and a thousand friends instead of two. No doubt I should say I like this better, because no one's trying to kill me; but the truth is I don't." He pointed back to the gate with his staff. "The Guard floaters broke through there and came in with buzz guns blazing at the same time we swarmed over the wall-volunteers like me, and Guardsmen, and even Trivigaunti pterotroopers. There were taluses in here, but between the floaters and us, they never had a chance. Others did much more, I'm sure; but I got off a shot before-"

Oreb returned, dropping onto his shoulder. "Pig come."

"He's all right then?"

Oreb croaked deep in his throat, and Hound said, "I couldn't understand him that time."

"He didn't say anything, just made a noise. It means he doesn't know what to say or doesn't know how to say it. So something's the matter with Pig that Oreb can't explain, or that he doesn't know how to tell us. Is he bleeding, Oreb?"

"No hurt."

"That's good. He didn't fall, I hope?"

"No, no."

The fountain was dry, its basin filled with rotting leaves and its once-white stone dirty gray. One of Scylla's arms had been broken off.

"Do people still worship her, Hound?"

Hound hesitated. "Sometimes. I'm not religious myself, so I don't pay a lot of attention, but I don't think it's like it used to be. They offer ducks now, mostly, or that's what Tansy's mother told me once."

"What about theophanies?"

"I'm afraid I don't know that word."

"Girl come," Oreb explained.

"Does Scylla appear in your Sacred Windows?"

"Oh, that." Hound urged his donkey forward, and jerked the rope of those he led. "Not like it used to be, I suppose. She comes to the window in the Grand Manteion two or three times a year, or the augurs say she does."

"It wasn't like that at all, really. No god ever visited us in all the time that I was growing up, not until just before we left for Blue."

"I didn't know that," Hound said.

"What I wanted-"

Oreb interrupted them. "Man come. Pig man."

"Good." He raised his lantern. "Pig? Are you all right?"

"Ho, aye."

"We were worried about you." He hurried forward.

The fitful light of the swinging lantern revealed the huge Pig, his dirty black trousers and dirty gray shirt, his big sword just now exploring the wide doorway of Blood's villa as Pig prepared to step out.

"We're going to camp in there. There are fireplaces, I'm sure, or there used to be."

"Aye, bucky."

He turned back to Hound. "Do you require our help with the donkeys?"

"No," Hound called. "But you could start that fire."

"I will. There-I'm going to blow out my candle, Pig. Hound doesn't want me to waste it, and he's right. I haven't seen any firewood around here anyway, and I imagine all the furniture was stolen or burned long ago."

"Aye."

Oreb muttered, "Poor man."

"So would you guide me to the back of the house and help look for wood? The trees overhang the wall there, as I remember, and there must be fallen branches."

Pig's big hand found his arm, and although Pig did not reply, he followed Pig docilely.

"This is where they had the sheds for Blood's floaters, and where the horned cats were penned. A talus cared for them, the one Silk killed in the tunnels. I suppose the others, the ones we killed when we stormed the house, were the Ayuntamiento's. The rabbit hutches must have been back here, too, though I don't remember seeing them."

"Seein'?" Pig's hand tightened. "Did yer say seein', bucky?"

Oreb fidgeted on his master's shoulder uneasily, wings half extended. "Watch out."

"Yes, Pig, I did."

"Pals, hain't we?"

"Certainly I am your friend, Pig. I hope you're mine as well."

"Then tell me somethin', bucky. Tell me what yer see."

"Right now? Nothing at all. It's totally dark."

"Yer said yer'd blow h'out yer glim, an' yer did. Heard yer. Heard yer h'open, an' blow, an' shut h'up."

"That's right. I can light it again if you wish, and use it to look around for wood."

"Nae sunshine, bucky?"

"No. None."

The hand on his shoulder, tight already, tightened still more. "What h'about ther skylands? Onie light h'up there?"

"No-wait." He lifted his head, scanning the sky. "One little pinpoint of red. It's a city burning, I suppose, though just a spark to us. That's what someone told me they were."

"What h'about ther hoose, bucky? Did yer gae Won Win?"

"No, not yet. I intended to, of course."

"Then yer don't know h'if there's lights h'in h'it, do yer?" Pig's voice shook.

"I-I'm inclined to doubt it. The entrance was dark, and weI-saw no lights in the windows. I didn't ask Hound, but if he had seen one he would have mentioned it, I'm sure."

"What h'about yer, H'oreb? Yer was h'in there wi' me."

"Bird go," Oreb confirmed cautiously.

"Yer Ben's guid h'in they dark. Better'n onie man's, hain't that lily, H'oreb? Look 'round noo, will yer? A favor ter ane what's yer friend?"

"Bird look."

"Yer needn't be a-feared. What do yer see?"

"Pig, Silk."

"Aye. What 'sides a' us?"

"Big wall. Big house."

"What a' a woman, H'oreb? Do yer see onie woman h'about, watchin' an' listenin'?"

"No girl."

"Lookin' h'out ther winder, h'it might be."

"No, no. No see."

There was a grunt of effort, followed by a thump as Pig's knee came down on the hard, dry grass. "Bucky, will yer help me? Yer me friend, yer said sae. Will yer?"

"Of course, Pig." From the new angle of Pig's arm, Pig was kneeling before him. He groped for him and found the other hand, a hairy hand as large as good-sized ham, that grasped the pommel of the big sword. "I'll help you in any way I can. Surely you know that."

"Recollect how yer felt a' me face, bucky?"

"Of course."

"Wanted ter prove ter yer Pig has nae een, bucky. Got me rag h'over 'em, an' some thinks Pig's soldierin'. Wanted yer ter find h'out fer yerself."

"I understand."

"Yer didn't have nae glim then, but yer does noo. Will yer light h'it fer me, bucky? Fer ane second, like."

"Certainly. It will be a relief to me, actually. Wait a moment." He opened the lantern and got out the striker again. It flared, shooting yellow-white sparks that seemed as bright as thrown torches; the butter-yellow flame of the candle rose.

The rag was no longer across Pig's broad, bearded face. Widely spaced holes like the eyes in a skull stared at nothing.

"Can yer see 'em, bucky? See me een? Where they was?"

He made himself speak. "Yes, Pig. Yes, I can."

"Gaen, hain't they? They cut 'em oot?"

He lowered his lantern and looked away. "Yes, they are. They did."

"Gets dirty, sometimes. Cleans h'in 'em wi' a rag h'on the h'end a' me fin'er."

"Man cry," Oreb informed him, and he looked back. Rivulets of moisture coursed down either side of Pig's broad nose.

"I'll clean them for you, Pig, if that's what you wish. With a clean cloth and clean water."

"Went h'in." Pig's voice was almost inaudible. "H'in ther hoose ter find what might be found, bucky. An' seen her."

Silence. He opened the little black lantern again and blew out its candle, and could not have explained why.

"Dark h'again, bucky?" There was a hideous mirth in Pig's voice that hurt more than any tears.