Gene Wolfe - Return to the Whorl

Pig chuckled. "Both sides breakin' 'em?"

Hound nodded with a rueful smile. "I'd heard that about the Trivigauntis, I suppose because they did it there. And I hoped Horn could tell us why they wanted to. That was what I was meaning to ask, what I forgot for a minute. Can you, Horn?"

He stared off into the dimness of the shuttered manteion, where a single bar of sunlight had stabbed the dusty air.

"Silk talk!"

"Oreb means me, I'm afraid." He turned back to them. "Who am I to resist a bird's demands? They wanted to because they thought it was what their goddess wanted, of course; but you understand that, surely. The real questions are whether she did, and if so why she did." He fell silent again, his clear blue eyes lost in thought.

"If she did not, then her supposed demand is presumably a lie put forth by the Chapter of Trivigaunte-whatever it's called-or the Rani's government. If that is the case, they probably say what they do to separate their people more firmly from those of other cities. Have I mentioned that there is a Trivigaunti town south of New Viron? There is."

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

"There's been a certain degree of mixing, which some on both sides have sought to prevent-Trivigaunti women marrying Vironese, and Vironese women marrying Trivigaunti men."

"Feel sorry fer ther four," Pig said.

"So do I, in a way; yet I doubt that they're much more-or much less-discontented than other couples.

"At any rate, their custom of refusing to picture the gods clearly isolates the people of Trivigaunte. This manteion would appear blasphemous to them; more importantly, so would the home of any pious person in Viron. My friend Auk, who was what is called a common criminal though he was an uncommon man, had a picture of Scylla tacked to his wall. But I am drifting away from the subject.

"If Sphigx herself issued the prohibition, I think it most likely she acted from pride or shame. She may have felt that no representation we could make could do her justice. I have seen Kypris-"

Pig's hand closed upon his elbow, its thick, pointed nails almost painful.

"Long ago, and I would defy any artist to picture a woman equally lovely. Silk's wife, Hyacinth, was dazzlingly beautiful as a young woman-but even she was not as beautiful as that."

Pig's grip relaxed.

"Or Sphigx may be ashamed of her followers, or of accepting worship at all. None of the other gods seems to feel like that, yet it would be much to their credit if they did."

Hound stared at him. "But… "

"But they are the gods. Is that what you would like to say? That's true. They are our gods-here, at least-and if they demand our worship, we must give it to them or perish. Do you see that niche over there?"

"Yes," Hound said. "It's empty."

Oreb croaked harshly, and his master went to it. "There is a sense in which you're wrong. In that sense, it is the Outsider's. Pig, do you want to put your hand in it? It will do you no harm."

"Nae. "

"Good. Hound, do you understand why this empty niche is the Outsider's? Why it is his now, although it may originally have been intended for one of the Nine? Possibly even for Pas?"

"Because no one knows what he looks like? I think you said something about that once."

"That's one reason, at least, though there are others. I don't mean that he is as the women of Trivigaunte believe Sphigx to be. There is no harm in our trying to make pictures of him, in showing him as a wise and noble man, for example, or as the night sky we see on Blue, a great darkness spangled with points of light. There's no harm, that is to say, unless we come to believe that he actually looks like the thing we've pictured. Then this representation is best."

Hound drew a deep breath. "But this is the way they show Sphigx!"

Later, when they had left Hound at Gold Street and were making their way to the Sun Street Quarter, Pig asked, "Nae folk h'in these hooses, bucky?"

Oreb answered for him. "No man! No girl!"

His master sighed. "After we had gone through the house in which Hound and Tansy used to live, I asked Hound when we would reach the inhabited parts of the city. I spoke softly, I suppose, and perhaps you were too preoccupied to hear us; but he said that we were already there, that the street down which we walked was one of those that had not yet been abandoned. I began counting houses then, and it seemed to me that there were five empty ones for each in which someone appeared to be living."

Pig did not reply.

"Of course someone may have been living in some of those that looked empty to me. That's entirely possible, and I hope it is true."

"Yer said ther h'empty place was ther H'outsider's."

"A cheering thought-thank you. To answer your question, a few of these houses are clearly occupied, though not many."

Pig cocked his head. "Cartwheels, bucky!"

"I can't hear them. Your ears are more acute than mine, as I have observed before. I'm glad you do, however, and I don't doubt in the least that you do. May I tell a story, Pig? You reminded me of it, and even if you have no particular pleasure in hearing it, it will give me pleasure to recount it."

"Does he mind? He does nae!"

"Thank you again. I should say at the outset that I'm not sure the manteions are the same, though I suspect they are. Hound said he couldn't recall the name of the augur who'd been in charge when he and Tansy attended sacrifice occasionally. This would have been his predecessor, I expect, if it really was the same manteion. His name was Patera Ray."

"Good man?"

"Ah, that's the point of my story, Oreb. A boy-I've forgotten his name, but it doesn't matter-and his mother were returning to the city after living for a year or so in the country. You'll recall, Pig, that Hound and Tansy moved from Endroad to the city after they were married, because there was no work for Hound in Endroad. Later, they returned.

"In much the same way, this boy and his mother had moved to the country, living in a remote farmhouse where the boy, who was still quite small, was happy in the possession of a wood and a stream too wide to jump; but lonely all the same. Now they had decided to return to the city. It was a long journey as the boy measured journeys then, though he had ridden most of the way in a sort of cart pushed by his mother that carried their belongings.

"She was very tired, and they stopped on the outskirts to spend the night with a friend before going into the city to the neat little house that another kind friend-a male friend who I suppose must have slept there from time to time, since he kept a razor there-had arranged for them to occupy some years earlier. After dinner, the poor woman went to bed and to sleep almost at once, but the boy did not."

"Good boy?"

"Not particularly, Oreb, though he thought he was, because his mother loved him. He was not old enough to understand that she would always love him, whether he behaved well or badly."

They were passing empty cellar-holes, rectangular pits edged with charred wood and filled with black water. "This quarter burned twenty years ago," he told Pig. "I'm sorry that more of it has not been rebuilt. I've been in the City of the Inhumi on Green, and it's not much more desolate than this. Here's String Street, I believe. I'm sorry to see that the fire got this far."

"Wi' yer, bucky."

"I want to finish my little tale. I'll interrupt it if I see anything worth commenting on."

He paused, collecting his thoughts. "The boy decided to take a short walk. He was hoping to find another child; but he was very conscious of the danger of becoming lost, so he walked only along the road upon which the house in which he and his mother were staying stood, reasoning that he could always retrace his steps and return to her. You will have guessed what happened already. Distracted by something or other, he became confused about the direction in which he had been walking. Thinking that he was returning to his mother and the house in which they were staying, he walked a long way until he saw an old man in black weeping upon the steps of a manteion. Until that time, the boy had been afraid to ask for help; but the old man looked so good and kind that the boy approached him and, after a minute or two of silent squirming, and taking deep breaths and letting them out, and deciding on one beginning after another and abandoning each before it was begun, he said, `Why are you crying?'