Gene Wolfe - In Green's Jungles

We are there still, Nettle, as Silk and Hyacinth still kneel by the pool in Ermine's.

There was a picture of a worried man writing at a little table while his wife crocheted, remember that one? Was the man actually present?

He was present in the picture, there can be no doubt of that. If he had not been, we would have seen a picture of a young, unhappy-looking woman crocheting alone.

That is how it is for us. The hill on which I found the altar was really there-in the whorl that we are so prone to believe is the only whorl; but it is no more real than the table at which that man wrote, and for as long as the Outsider remained with me I knew that.

No, I know it now. I was directly aware of it then.

Think of a man who sees a picture and thinks it is real. Here on the wall is a painted door, open, and beyond it another room, in which a ragged child stands weeping. He goes to the child to comfort it, stops, and reaches out until his fingers brush the painted plaster. So it was with me while the Outsider was with me; my fingers touched the plaster, and the illusion lost its power over me.

I cannot explain it better than that. I have tried to think of something more, of some way in which I can tell you what it is to walk with a god and know that the god loves you, as Auk did; and as I did there upon the hill. Perhaps something will come to me later. If so, I will set it down.

Before I proceed I should tell you that although my horse was where I had tied him, and unharmed, I saw the tracks of some great beast all around him in the snow. I was not huntsman enough to identify it, but it was very large and had big soft feet with seven toes. A baletiger? We coursed them in Gaon, but it seems that they are more apt to course men in this part of the whorl. Whatever it was, it had walked about my horse several times, and had left him trembling and sweating, but had not harmed him.

I took out the remaining bread, which was not very much, wet it with wine, gave it to him, and mounted and rode away. I have never left a friend with so high a heart.

Our son is here, as I believe I may have said already. He has been calling himself Cuoio – but let me begin at the beginning.

I found Sfido and the rest scarcely a league from the place where I had left them. I had told them to continue our journey, as you will remember; and so they had, but not very far. They were very glad to see me, or at any rate Sfido was. He called to Cuoio, who joined us and saluted. Sfido said, "Inclito's given this young fellow a horse and sent him to us. He says you wanted to see him."

I acknowledged that I did, and invited him to come with me. "I'm sorry to take you from the fire," I told him as we walked away from it, "but I want to ask you various questions. They are innocent things, but it isn't wise to let other people overhear conversations that do not concern them. You were one of the young troopers behind the hedgerow, weren't you? You set off the fireworks?"

"Yes, sir."

"And shot at the cavalry attacking us, after the fireworks were gone?"

"No, sir. I didn't have this," he indicated his slug gun, "until after the battle."

"I see. You came out here from Blanko?"

"Yes, sir."

"Were you born in Blanko?"

"No, sir."

"In Grandecitta?"

"No, sir."

"In Olmo then? Or in Novella Citta? Were you born in Soldo, by any chance? Duko Sfido wasn't either, he was born in Grandecitta, I believe. He has lived most of his life in Soldo, however, although he's been fighting against it."

"I didn't know he was Duko Sfido, sir. I've been calling him Colonel Sfido. That's what General Inclito called him."

"I feel sure he doesn't object; he would have corrected you if he did. Where were you born, Private Cuoio?"

"A long way away, sir." His voice was so soft that I could barely hear him.

I turned and looked back at the fire. Sfido and the rest were huddled about it so closely that it could scarcely be seen. Our horses waited, patient and miserable, their heads to the wind.

"We will find no comfort here," I said. "Not even the slight comfort of blankets and a fire. Winter is no time to fight a war."

Oreb leaned fluttering from the handle of my staff to offer Cuoio his advice. "Boy talk. Talk now."

"Yes, speak, Cuoio. You can dodge my questions for a long time, no doubt." I coughed. "But not all night. Would it help to know that I am not your enemy? Sinew thought I was his-"

Cuoio looked at me sharply.

"But we were friends at the end, even when we fought. What was your name before you came to Blanko? What name were you born with?"

"Hide, sir."

"Thank you, Hide. It seems a good enough name. Why did you change it?"

"Nobody would tell me anything, sir. I mean before I got into town. There was a place, a little village, like, and when I said my name was Hide they sent me to talk to the shoemaker. I mean they told me to talk to this certain man, and he could probably tell me. So I went around looking for him, and he was a shoemaker. He laughed at me, but he helped me anyway. He said to say my name was Cuoio, and showed me how to eat the way they do, and these people were a lot friendlier after that."

"Good! Good!" Oreb bobbed on the handle of my staff.

"They told you what you wanted to know?"

He nodded with his head cocked, listening. "Did you hear that, sir?"

"I didn't hear anything except the wind. What did you hear?"

"A big animal, I think, sir. Not a horse."

"It's a baletiger, I believe, though it seems almost too large for one. I saw its tracks this afternoon-or at least I saw the tracks of a similar animal. You said that the people told you what you wanted to know, after you changed your name. What was it you wanted to know?"

"That isn't exactly right, sir." Hide unslung his slug gun as he spoke and pushed the safety catch off. "But they tried to help me, and they were nicer to me."

"I have found them very friendly."

"Isn't your name really Incanto, sir? It sounds like one of their names."

I ignored the question. "What was it you asked them?"

"I'm trying to find my father, sir. Or a town called Pajarocu, because he went there."

"And has never come back. I see."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't you know where Pajarocu is, Hide?"

"No, sir. Do you?"

I nodded.

"Will you tell me, sir? I-I certainly would appreciate it, sir."

"I may. We'll see. You've been honest and forthright, Hide, and I'm grateful. Before I ask you anything more, I want to assure you that nothing bad is going to happen to you as a result of your honesty-that I wish you well. Do you accept that?"

"Yes, sir. You said Sinew, sir. He thought you were his enemy."

I nodded again. "Sinew was a young man who was with me in Pajarocu, Hide. He cannot have been your father, however. Sinew cannot have been more than nine or ten at the time you were born."

"He's my brother, sir. I mean, I've got a brother named Sinew. It might not be the same person. He's pretty tall, and he's got black hair like mine, sir. Big hands?"

"Many thousands of men would fit that description, Private Hide." A fit of coughing overtook me. "Describe your father."

"His name's Horn, sir. He's about as tall as me, maybe a little bit taller, and kind of stocky. Just about bald."

I untied my scarf and let my hair blow free in the wind. "Like this?"

"No, sir. You've got a lot more hair than he does, and yours is white. His is kind of a dark gray, and there isn't that much of it."

"As tall as I am?"

"No, sir. More like me, like I said. Sir, don't you think we ought to go back to the fire?"

"If you wish, Hide. I intend to ask you a great many more questions, however." I started up the hill to our left. "Will it trouble you to talk where the others can overhear us? I'm going to ask you about the place you came from, your mother and your brothers and so forth. Will you continue to be open and honest with me then, with Duko Sfido and the rest listening?"