Gene Wolfe - Exodus from the Long Sun

“You take care of this stuff,” Auk told her, “I got to go to Sun Street.”

“I’m coming!”

Auk shook his head. “I ain’t no augur—”

Tattaros whispered, “Bring the soldier and the woman.”

“But I got to sacrifice. Scalding Scylla wanted me to, too. She was going to make me give her Dace, probably.”

“I’ll need a coat and a bath, makeup — don’t you hit me! if you hit me again I’ll — I’ll—”

“You’re coming all right,” Auk told her, “and we’re going now.” He strode into the crowd. “Listen here! Slap a muzzle on it, you culls. Listen up!”

Hammerstone fired his slug gun into the air.

“No god’s coming! You want me to sacrifice, we’ll go over to Sun Street and do it right. Only no god!” Under his breath he added, “You couldn’t see one anyhow, you cank cullys.”

They followed him through the narrow street nonetheless, cowed by him more than by the menacing soldier beside him who never relaxed his hold on the shivering, disheveled young woman in the red silk gown.

From the highest step of Silk’s manteion, Auk addressed them again. “I told you there ain’t going to be a god. You jerk me around, don’t you? Sacrifice right this minute! Show us a god, Auk! All your clatter. You think you could jerk me around like you do if I could jerk the gods around? I can’t. Neither can you. What I’m telling you is, it’s time.”

He drew his brass-mounted hanger. “I can cut your goats with this. That’s nothing. Can I cut myself out of the whorl? That’s what matters. Think about it. Nobody but you can make you think, not even gods.”

“Sacrifice!” someone shouted.

“Not even the gods!” Auk bellowed. “Only they can snuff you if you don’t, see? Or just leave you to die, ’cause this whorl’s finished! Tartaros told me!”

The crowd stirred.

“Ever see a dead bitch in the street? And her pups still trying to suck? That’s you! And that’s me!” Over his shoulder Auk added, “Open these doors, Hammerstone.”

The soldier hooked a finger as thick as a crowbar through one wrought iron handle and rattled the door until it seemed it must leave its hinges. “It’s locked.”

“Then bust it down. We’ll use the wood.”

Hammerstone released the door and drew back his fist, but Hyacinth exclalined, “Wait! Somebody’s coming!”

In a moment Auk heard the rattle and squeak of the old iron lock, and the solid thunk as the bolt slid back. He grasped the handle and pulled.

“Patera!” Hammerstone knelt as a father does to embrace a boy who does not like being lifted, and hugged Incus in arms that could have splintered the ribs of a bull.

Even Auk smiled. “Hi, Patera. Where you been?”

Hyacinth, torn between the opportunity for flight and the deliverance she sensed was almost at hand, nudged Auk. “Is this him? The one Hammerstone talks about all the time?”

“Yeah. You want to argue with him? Me neither.”

Pointing to Incus he announced, “This’s the augur I asked you about. Now we can have a regular augur, and maybe he’ll let me help. We’ll need wood for the altar, you scavy? Some of you got to go get us some. Cedar if you can find any, any kind if you can’t.”

From Hammerstone’s embrace, Incus protested, “ Auk , my son!”

“We got to, Patera. You like for lots of people to see you sacrifice? I got you three or four hundred here. Hammerstone, loosen up or you’ll chill him.”

Speaking so quickly her racing words flashed past like frightened linnets, Hyacinth gabbled, “Patera, I know what I look like, I know how awful, but I’m not the sort that would ever set her cap for a cully like this or even let him, you know, talk to her even if he just wanted to talk, you know how they do, and that’s not me, and I’ve got money and good clothes even if you wouldn’t think it to look at me and jewelry, and I know people, I’ve got, you know, bucks that would do me favors any time, commissioners and brigadiers, and I know the calde, I really do, he’s a particular friend of mine and this man and the soldier have been making me stay in a dirty freezing place with rats, and you’ve got to help me, Patera, you’ve got to tell—”

Auk clapped a hand over her month. “She goes on like that quite a bit, Patera, and we ain’t got time for it all. Let him go, Hammerstone. Get him inside there and up to the altar. You can carry him, I guess, if it makes you feel better.”

“I’ve prayed ,” Incus managed to gasp as Hammerstone hoisted him, “all morning, prayed upon my knees with tears and bitterest groans — don’t drop me, Hammerstone my son, your shoulders are slippery — for a sign of favor from Surging Scylla or any other god, the smallest morsel of assistance , the most humble crumb of succor in my divinely ordained mission.”

“I’d say maybe you got it,” Auk told him. “What do you think, Terrible Tartaros?”

Briefly, the blind god’s hand tightened on his. “Release the woman, Auk my noctolater. I am about to leave you. I have mended your mind, insofar as I am able.”

Auk turned, although he knew he could not see the god.

“It will heal itself soon of the damage that remains. I have explained your task, and you have learned better than I could have hoped. Direct your gaze to the Sacred Window, Auk my noctolater.”

“This’s the Plan, Terrible Tartaros. Emptying the whole whorl. I can’t do that by myself!”

“Look at the screen, Auk. At the Sacred Window. This is the last instruction I shall give you.”

Auk sank to his knees. Faintly, through the open door, the silver glow shone from the far end of the manteion. “Get out of my way, Hammerstone! I got to see the Window.”

“Farewell, Auk. May neither of us forget the prayers you offered nightside, while I hearkened invisible in your glass.”

Auk stood up, alone.

“You’re crying.” Hyacinth stepped closer to peer at him. “Auk, you’re crying .”

“Yeah. I guess I am.” He wiped his streaming eyes with his fingers. “I never had any father.”

“I do, and he’s a pig’s arse.” Worshippers pushed past them caryying armloads of wood; some paused to stare.

“I got to get up there and do it. You want to go, go on. I won’t stop you.”

“I can leave anytime I want to?”

“Yeah, Hy. Beat the hoof.”

“Then I’m going to — no, that’s abram. G’bye, Bruiser.” Her lips brushed his.

“ Auk my son!” Incus stood beside the altar, directing the laying of the fire. “We’ve more wood than we require. Tell them to desist .”

He did, happy to have something to do.

At Silk’s ambion, Incus drew himself up beyond his full height, rising on his toes. “A holy augur’s blessing upon each and every one of you, my children. Silence , back there! This is a manteion , a house sacred to the immortal gods .” It was the hour he had dreamed of since childhood.

“ Hammerstone , my son. It is best to offer our pious gifts upon a fire kindled directly from the beneficent rays. This is not accorded us on this day of darkness . If you will look in the sacristy, behind the Sacred Window , you may discover a fire-keeper , a vessel of metal or even lowly terra cotta safeguarding the holy spark against such an hour as this .”

“I’m on it, Patera.”

Incus returned his attention to the congregation. “ At this point , my children, I am severely tempted to discover to you my own identity, and the multifarious vicissitudes and tribulations through which I come to you today . I refrain , however. I am an augur , as you see. I am that augur whom Surfeiting Scylla has designated Prolocutor-to-be , charged with the utter destruction of the Ayunta —”