Gene Wolfe - Exodus from the Long Sun

“I don’t have to imagine. Some of my dearest friends have lost their legs.”

Horn asked, “Are you going to be pilot some on the way back, Calde? You like it so much I think you ought to. You were good at it, too.”

Saba said, “For somebody without training, he was better than good. He’ll be taking over in four hours.”

Horn looked relieved.

“When we’re past the mountains,” Silk told him, and walked forward to the prow of the gondola.

Saba trotted after him. “I wouldn’t do that, Calde. We still haven’t got all the altitude we want, and mountains can give you some tricky winds.”

“I’ll be fine; but you must remain where you are.”

Behind Saba, Nettle called, “Horn’s afraid you’re going to jump, Calde. That’s all it is”

“I’m not.”

“When General Saba said you were going to be the pilot, he felt a lot better, because he thought you wouldn’t want to miss it. We both did.”

Looking down upon the green and rising slopes far below, where hillside meadows yielded to forested heights, Silk smiled. “You don’t have to worry. I love life and Hyacinth too much to jump. Besides, if I jumped I wouldn’t be able to wrestle with your questions, Nettle — though that might be good for both of us. Have you more?”

“I was going to ask you about the mountains.” Timorously, she edged past Saba to grasp Silk’s hand. “It scares me to look at them. You know how lampreys look in the market? Those round mouths with rings and rings of teeth? These look like that to me, under us and up in the skylands too. Only a million times bigger.”

“Were you going to ask me why they exist? Because Pas built them to guard Mainframe; but that’s sheer speculation. I don’t know any more than you do.”

“If anybody lives there. And — and why there’s snow on the tops. The tops are closer to the sun, so they ought to be warmer.”

“I don’t believe that the sun heats air,” Silk told her absently, “not much, and perhaps not at all. If it did, the sun’s heat couldn’t reach us. If you think about it, you’ll soon realize that sunlight doesn’t illuminate air either; we could see air if it did, and we can’t.”

Behind Silk, Horn said, “No kind of light does then.”

“Correct, I’m sure. The warmth of the sun heats the soil and the waters, and they in return warm the air above them. Up here where there are only widely separated peaks, the air must be cold of necessity. Hence, snow; and in the Mountains That Look At Mountains, snow has weight enough to fall.”

Silk paused, considering. “I never asked Sciathan who lived in the mountains, or whether anyone did. I’ve seen no cities, but I would think a few people must, people who fled the cities or were driven out. It must be a wild and lawless place; no doubt many like it for just that reason.”

From the hatch Hyacinth called, “Silk, is that you?” and he turned to smile at her.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, but nobody’d seen you. Oh, hello, General.” As gracefully as ever, Hyacinth stepped from the ladder onto the deck. “Hi, sprats. Got a better view from up here? It’s bigger, anyway.”

“You can leave me to my own devices now,” Silk told Horn.

It was snowing in Viron, a hard fall that converted misery to unrelieved wretchedness, snow that rendered every surface slippery and made every garment damp, and rushed into Maytera Mint’s eyes each time she faced the wind.

“We have done what we can, My General.” Under stress of weather, the captain stood beside, not before, her. Both had their coat collars turned up against the wind and cold; his uniform cap was pulled over his ears like her striped stocking cap, his right arm inadequately immobilized by a bloodstained sling.

“I’m sure you have, Colonel, They’ll start dying in a few hours, I’m afraid, just the same.”

“I am not a colonel, My General.”

“You are, I just promoted you. Now show me you deserve it. Find them shelter.”

“I have tried, My General. I shall try again, though every house in this quarter has been burned.” He was not a tall man, yet he seemed tall as he spoke.

That about the houses had been unnecessary, Maytera Mint thought, and showed how tired he was. She said, “I know.”

“This was your own quarter, was it not? Near the Orilla?”

“It was, and it is.”

“I go. May I say first that I would prefer to fight for you and the gods, My General? Viron must be free!”

She shivered. “What if you lose that arm, Colonel?”

“One hand suffices to fire a needler, My General.”

She smiled in spite of her determination not to. “Even the left? Could you hit anything?”

He took a step backward, saluting with his uninjured arm. “When one cannot aim well, one closes with the enemy.”

He had vanished into the falling snow before she could return his salute. She lowered the hand that had not quite gotten to her eyebrow, and began to walk among the huddled hundreds who had fled the fighting.

I would know every face, she thought, if I could see their faces. Not the names, because I’ve never been good with names. Dear Pas, won’t you let us have even a single ray of sun?

Children and old people, old people and children. Did old people not fight because they were too feeble? Or was it that they had, over seventy or eighty years, come to appreciate the futility of it?

Something caught at her skirt. “Are they bringing food?” She dropped to one knee. The aged face might almost have been Maytera Rose’s. “I’ve ordered it, but there’s very little to be had. And we’ve very few people we can spare to look for it, wounded troopers mostly.”

“They’ll eat it themselves!”

Perhaps they will, Maytera Mint thought. They are hungry, too, I’m sure, and they’ve earned it. “Somebody will bring you something soon, before shadelow.” She stood up.

“Sib? Sib? Mama’s over there, and she’s real cold.”

She peered into the pale little face. “Perhaps you could find wood and start a fire. Someone must have an igniter.”

“She won’t…” The child’s voice fell away.

Maytera Mint dropped to one knee again. “Won’t what?”

“She won’t take my coat, Maytera. Will you make her?”

Oh, my! Oh, Echidna! “No. I cannot possibly interfere with so brave a woman,” There was something familiar about the small face beneath the old rabbit-skin cap. “Don’t I know you? Didn’t you go to our palaestra?”

The child nodded.

“Maytera Marble’s group. What’s your name?”

“Villus, Maytera.” A deep inhalation for words requiring boldness. “I was sick, Maytera. I got bit by a big snake. I really did. I’m not lying.”

“I’m sure you’re not, Villus.”

“That’s why she won’t, so tell her I’m well!” The small coat stood open now, displaying what appeared to be an adult’s sweater, far too large.

“No, Villus. Button those again before you freeze.” Her own fingers were fumbling with the buttons as she spoke. “Find wood, as I told you. There must be a little left, even if it’s charred on the outside. Make a fire.”

As she stood, the wind brought faint boomings that might almost have been thunder. Distant, she decided, yet not distant enough. It probably meant the enemy had broken through, but it would be worse than futile for her to rush back knowing nothing. Bison would send a messenger with news and a fresh horse. These two… “Are you all right?”

“We’ll keep.” An old man’s voice, an old man with his arm around a woman just as old. The old woman said, “We’re not hurt or anything.” “We been talking about that.” (The man again.) “We’d stay warmer moving around.” “We were pretty tired when we got here.”