Gene Wolfe - Return to the Whorl

"Yes, Pig," he said. "Dark again."

"Yer dinna h'ask h'about her, bucky."

"No talk," Oreb advised him.

He ignored the warning. "I didn't think it the moment for prying questions."

"Yer dinna care, bucky?"

"I care very much. But this isn't the time. Hound is unloading his donkeys, Pig, and expecting us to find firewood. Let us find firewood for him. We said we would."

Later, when all three were sitting before a small fire in the large fireplace that had graced Blood's sellaria, Hound said, "I'm going to have a look at my donkeys. I've never had one get loose on a darkday, and I prefer that it never happen." He rose. "Can I get either of you anything?"

"We've more than enough."

As Hound left, Pig whispered, "Noo, bucky? Want ter hear h'about her noo?"

He shook his head. "Wait until Hound comes back."

"Want him ter hear h'it? Thought yer dinna."

"Of course I do. He knows this area and the people in it. Have you ever been here before, Pig?"

"Has Pig? Pig has nae!"

"Well, I have; but that was years ago. I'll have forgotten a great deal, even if I don't think I have. I'll have distorted more, and even the little I remember will be largely obsolete. I wanted to get you alone so I could find out what was troubling you. Now that I haveand it troubles me, too-I'm eager to hear what Hound will say about it." He waited for Pig to speak, and when Pig did not he added, "Of course I don't imagine that Hound can tell us how a man without eyes can see; but he may be able to tell us a something about what he has seen."

"Man come," Oreb announced. "Come back."

"I take it your donkeys haven't strayed, Hound? You wouldn't have returned so quickly if that had been the case."

Hound smiled as he resumed his seat. "No. They're fine. I worry too much about them, I'm afraid, and I doubt that will be the last time I check on them tonight. It must seem silly to you."

"Your concern for the animals in your care? Certainly not. But, Hound, Pig has confided something extraordinary to me, and he'd like you to hear about it, too."

"If it's something I can help with, I'll do what I can."

"I'm sure you will. Pig went into this house alone when we first arrived. I needn't dwell upon how dark it was, or mention that Pig carried no light."

Guardedly, Hound nodded.

"I wish it were not necessary for me to mention that Pig is blind as well. He is, and though I never doubted it, he insisted I verify it. I did, and he's totally blind. If you doubt it, I do not doubt that he'll let you verify it as well."

"I'll take your word for it," Hound declared, "but I can't imagine what this is leading up to."

"Man see," Oreb explained concisely.

"Exactly. He saw a woman, here in this house. Is that correct, Pig?"

"Aye."

"Now you know all that I do, Hound. Let's go on from there.

"It was dark, Pig. Not the mere darkness of night, in which one can often discern large objects, including persons, but pitch dark. The depths of this ruined villa must have been utterly lightless. How was it you were able to see her?"

"Dinna know." Pig shook his head.

"Was she carrying a light? A candle, for example?"

"If she'd a' been," Pig said slowly, "Pig would nae been h'able ter see h'it ter tell yer." He stretched out his hands. "Fire here, hain't there? Auld Pig feels h'it, feels ther heat a' h'it. Can Pig see h'it, ter? Pig canna."

"Could you see anything other than the woman? The floor she was standing on, for example, or the wall behind her?"

"Nae, bucky. Nor canna recall such."

"It wasn't anybody you know?" Hound asked. "Tansy or-or some woman you've met in your travels?"

Pig turned his head, about ten degrees in error. "Would Pig know? Ter see?"

"I guess you wouldn't." Hound fingered his chin.

"Man talk!" Oreb urged.

"All right, I will. I warned you this place is supposed to be haunted. Or anyway I warned you, Horn. Pig had gone on ahead, I think."

"Haunted by a woman?"

"Yes. Do you want the whole story? It's the sort of thing children tell younger children, I warn you."

"I do. What about you, Pig?"

"Ho, aye."

"All right. Many years ago, a very rich man who had an ugly daughter lived here. This daughter was so ugly that no one would marry her. The rich man gave balls and parties and invited all the eligible young men in the city, but none of them would marry her. A witch came to his door all robed in black, and he fed her and gave her a card, and asked what he could do about his ugly daughter. The witch told him to lock her up where nobody except himself would ever see her. What's wrong, Horn?"

"Nothing, except that I've just realized for the thousanth time what an idiot I am. Go on with your story, please-I'd like to hear it."

"If you want me to." Hound held up the wine bottle from which he had been drinking, saw that it was still almost full, and sipped. "The witch told him to lock up his daughter where nobody could see her until everybody forgot how ugly she was. So that's what he did. He locked her in a dark, bare room and kept the shutters closed day and night so that nobody would see her and brought her food himself, and pretty soon everybody forgot about her except the augur who had christened her. I don't know what her name was, though no doubt the augur did."

"It was Mucor."

Hound stared.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. Go on, I want to hear the rest."

"This augur would come to the rich man's house and ask about her. Each time the rich man would make some excuse, saying that his daughter was ill or away. Soon the augur became suspicious. He had a hatchet, and he would come at night with his hatchet and chop open the shutter and let the ugly daughter out. Then she would go from house to house asking people to take her in. No one would because she was so ugly, and so she played tricks on them, throwing their supper plates at them and making them hit themselves with their own fists, and so on.

"But a god told the augur to go away, and he did. General Mint killed the rich father, and there was nobody left to let the ugly daughter out or feed her, so she starved to death in her room. But her ghost still haunts the house, walking on top of the wall or on the roof, and sometimes she stops travelers. If she stops you and you're polite to her, she'll tell your fortune and bring good luck. But if you even hint at how ugly she is, she'll curse you and you'll die within a year."

"Tell good!" Oreb applauded with his wings.

Hound smiled. "There it is. That's all I know except that there's a family in Endroad who claim to have the hatchet, which they say the augur left behind. I've seen it and it's just an old hatchet, with no magic powers as far as I know. You look very thoughtful, Horn."

He nodded. "I am, because your story suggests that Silk has left Viron-that he's on Blue or Green, if he's still alive. Patera Silk was the augur who pried open Mucor's shutter with his hatchet, and thus beyond question the augur in the story. I'd guess that the wise witch in black robes represents someone's confused recollection of Maytera Rose; but Silk was the augur. There can be no doubt of that."

He turned to Pig. "No one-very much including me-ever asked what became of the other people who were living here, but we should have. Silk killed Blood, and Echidna killed Musk; Hyacinth became Silk's wife, and Silk cared for Mucor until she came to Blue with her grandmother. Doctor Crane-I almost forgot him, and I shouldn't-was killed in error by the Guard. I have no doubt that some others, many of Blood's bodyguards particularly, were killed in the battle that freed Silk and the other prisoners the Ayuntamiento was holding here. Still, there must have been two or three dozen cooks and maids and footmen and prostitutes."