Gene Wolfe - Return to the Whorl

Hound said, "Well, it seems to me that if you were really his friends, he would tell you where."

Mint shook her head. "He hasn't. Because, you see, he is our friend, too. If we knew, and it were known we knew…"

"You might be shot again," Hound said. "I see."

"Yes, or my husband might be shot. Or we both might be poisoned, or whatever you like. Horn, have you noticed that he never said he did not know where Silk was? He said he did not know where he was living. He's been hidden away by the Prolocutor, I believe."

Bison rose. "I need to talk to him. You must excuse me, darling, gentlemen. I'll see if my glass can find him."

As Bison left, Mint said, "He wants to find out where it is for you, I suppose-"

"Good man!" Oreb announced his approval.

"I doubt that's wise," Mint continued pensively, "but I doubt even more that His Cognizance will tell him. He might offer to provide a guide, but that's not likely to do much good. May I tell you about our little ghost? That might be helpful."

With a satisfied grunt, Pig pushed his plate away. "Wish yer would."

"I will. This palace, as I'm sure you understand, was built in the days of Viron's prosperity, when it had more people and far more money. After the death of Calde Tussah, it was shut up. Councilor Lemur, who was the real ruler of the city when I was a child and a young woman, dared neither to declare himself calde nor to hold an election he might have lost. He contented himself with actual power, and let the trappings of power go. This palace remained vacant for about thirty years."

"Calde Silk reopened it," Hound informed Pig.

"He did. He and my friend Marble lived here at first, with her granddaughter, a Flier whose friends had been killed by the Trivigauntis, and some others. Did you live here too, Horn? I know you were with him then. Did you go home at night?"

He shook his head. "We ate here and slept in one of the rooms upstairs."

"Of which there are a great many. The first floor is devoted to public rooms like this one. There's a ballroom, a huge sellaria, the reception room you saw, and the library. And kitchens, sculleries, pantries, and so on. My husband and I sleep in a suite on the next floor, and there are more for guests, quite a lot of them. Above them are rooms for aides, maids, attendants, ladies-in-waiting, valets, and the rest of it. Above that is another floor with rooms for the palace staff. They're small and I've never counted them, but there must be nearly a hundred. Our own staff isn't anywhere near that large. Neither was Calde Silk's when he and his wife lived here."

Hound asked whether some of the rooms were haunted, and Mint favored him with a smile. "They all are, if you want to call it that. Our little ghost is most often met with in the rooms we use most, but that's probably just because there is someone to see her in those. Do you have a comment to give us, Horn?"

"Silk talk!" Oreb demanded.

"Only that you haven't talked about the topmost floor, General."

She nodded. "Because I haven't been up there. I have to be carried up and down the stairs now, so I'll probably never go. I've been told that it's a perfect warren of storerooms filled with all sorts of stuff. I haven't mentioned our cellars either, for the same reason. There are nine or ten cellars on three levels."

"Knew a hizzie 'twas frighted by a ghaist h'in a cote h'in ther lightlands," Pig rumbled.

Mint smiled again. "But that ghost was a spirit, I'm sure. Ours is material. Or at least I think she is. She walks like I do to mock me, which suggests she might be a devil. I really can't believe that, however, though some devils are material. But she takes things, and she's been known to leave footprints in dust and snow. I told you so much about this palace, because I wanted you to understand why our searches have failed thus far. Do you, Horn?"

He nodded, to which Oreb added, "Yes, yes!"

"Good. If any of you would like to tour this floor when we're through here, I'll take you around and tell you as much as I know about the rooms and furnishings."

Hound said eagerly, "I would. Very much."

"Auld Pig'll push yer, mistress. Proud ter."

"Then we shall do it, and that's a promise. Horn has seen them already, I know. Perhaps he might enjoy seeing them again."

He nodded, and for Pig's sake added, "Yes. Certainly."

"I've been calling our little ghost `her,' and none of you have challenged it. Do you want to, Horn?"

"No." He was no longer looking at Mint's small, almost colorless face, but at the room itself, half expecting to see Olivine peeping around some corner. Mucor's death's-head stare mingled with the reflections in the glass covering a picture, but faded to nothing as he watched it.

"She wears a skirt of some rough cloth," Mint was saying, "and covers her head with a shawl or scarf. So she looks female, and we assume she is. My husband thinks she is a child from one of the houses nearby who disguises herself and slips in now and then. My own guess is that she's a beggar girl who took up residence while the palace was empty and has chosen to remain. The fact that our searches have failed to find her weighs on my husband's side, I confess. Have you theories of your own?"

No one spoke. Hound shook his head.

"Horn? You were recommended to Pig by another ghost, as we heard a few minutes ago. You must have some conjecture."

Oreb croaked, "Silk talk!" impatiently.

"I have nothing to say," he told Mint, "beyond the comment that both the theories you've outlined seem implausible to me. You challenge me, very justly, to put forward a better one; but I can't."

Mint raised her eyebrows. "You have no idea whether she's female or not?"

"Why, no. If everyone who has seen her thinks her female, I would think it highly probable she is."

Beside him Pig muttered, "Have a care, bucky."

Hound said, "If she's material, not a real ghost, you might set a trap for her. My wife and I have a little shop in Endroad, and we sell them there, traps for animals, I mean. I can give you the name of a man who'll make you a bigger one."

Mint shook her head. "That would be cruel. I would much rather have a ghost to talk about than catch a child in a trap. But I haven't told you the most interesting part so far. She was seen again yesterday."

"Fient!"

"Yes, she was, Pig. By our cook. And she had Silk's ghost with her. Horn?"

"It still sounds as though you're saying Silk is dead."

"I'm not. Our cook, you must understand, thinks our little ghost is a real ghost, the spirit of someone who left this life without attaining Mainframe. All the servants-"

Bison, returning to his chair, shook his head. "I don't believe in ghosts."

"I didn't say you did, darling, I said they do. As it happens, I believe in them myself. But not in ghosts who steal and leave footprints."

Bison said, "We don't see her for months. Then somebody hears her walking on the floor above and it starts all over again. We hear her a lot more than we see her, really."

Mint nodded. "I was about to say, Horn, that even though I believe in ghosts, I don't believe in this one. And since our limping child isn't a real ghost, I doubt that Silk was a ghost either. I think it was the living Calde Silk our cook saw. Were you able to reach His Cognizance, darling? You were at it long enough. What did he say?"

Bison hitched his high-backed armchair nearer the table. "Don't you want to finish with the ghost first?"

"I'm nearly finished. I was going to say that Silk wasn't wearing his robe. He comes to this palace in lay clothing quite often, so that isn't surprising. A calde, even a former one, has to be extremely careful. At any rate, he was wearing ordinary clothes, according to our cook. But they must have been very dirty. She said they looked as though he'd escaped his grave."