"Yes, Pig?"

"Bonnie she was, bucky. Beautiful ter me, ter auld Pig. Yer a smart mon, bucky."

He shook his head, although he knew that Pig could not see the gesture. "No, Pig."

"Yer h'are. Dinna stand nae higher 'n me belt, an' bony. Bonnie ter me, though. Ken why, bucky?"

"Yes, I believe so. Because you could see her, and she was the only thing you've seen in however long it's been. In years."

"Smack h'on, bucky. Yer ken her, dinna yer?"

"Yes, Pig. I-this will mean nothing to you, I realize-but I helped feed and care for her while she and I were living in the Calde's Palace in Viron." He turned to Hound. "Does it surprise you that I lived in the Calde's Palace for a few days?"

Hound shook his head.

"I did, and Nettle and I came to know Mucor there, the woman you've been calling the ugly daughter. Much later, she gave me a tame hus. I'd like to show her that I'm here trying to repay her by finding eyes for her grandmother, and ask where Silk is."

Hound said, "You credit this ghost, both of you."

"Yes. Except that she isn't dead-or I don't believe she is. Certainly she did not starve to death in this house."

"H'if yer h'object ter me comin', bucky-"

"I do. I-yes, I do."

"What'll yer do h'about h'it? Think yer can gae sae hush naebody can hear yer?"

"Pig come," Oreb declared.

"Be talkin' ter her, bucky. An' me? Be standin' behind yer, lookin' h'over yer head. Yer hear, bucky? Said lookin'."

"Yes, Pig. I understand. If I agree to your coming, will you assist me? There's a climb, and it may be difficult. Will you let me stand on your shoulders?"

"Will he? He will!"

"Then come with me."

Together they went out into the blind dark. One of the donkeys brayed, happy to hear human footsteps; and both spoke to it, equally happy, perhaps, to hear another voice, even if it was no more than that of a friendly animal. When they halted and turned to face the villa again, the faint radiance of the fire, glowing weakly through the open doorway, seemed as remote as the burning city in the skylands.

"Where we gang, bucky?"

"To the room Hound mentioned." He found that he was almost whispering, and cleared his throat. "The room to which Mucor was confined by Blood. We're facing the villa now, and it should be to the right, though I can't be certain of that. Oreb, you can see the building before us, can't you?"

"See house!"

"Good. There was a conservatory at one end, a rather low addition with battlements like the rest, and large windows. Can you see that?"

"Bird find." Oreb took wing. "Come bird!"

"Ter yer right, bucky."

"I know." He had already begun to walk. "This was a soft lawn once, Pig."

"Aye."

"A soft, green lawn, before what was in effect a palace, an establishment more palatial than the Calde's Palace in the city, or even the Prolocutor's Palace. It's hard to believe that all the changes that have taken place here have been-ultimately-for the best. Yet they have."

Pig's hand closed upon his shoulder. "Swing yer stick wider, bucky. Yer h'about ter hit ther wall."

"Thank you. I'm afraid I had practically forgotten to swing it at all."

"Aye. Yer see like yer bird, bucky?"

Hearing him, Oreb called, "Come bird!"

"No. I can see no better in this darkness than you can yourself, Pig."

"Then swing yer stick an' tap ther ground 'fore yer get a fall ter teach yer."

"I will. Have you found the conservatory yet, Oreb?"

"Bird find! Come bird!"

"He's nearer now, isn't he, Pig? Pig, can you judge whether the building on our left is as high now as it was? The original structure is three stories and an attic, as I remember."

There was a lengthy pause before Pig replied, " 'Tain't nae mair, h'or dinna seem like h'it."

"Then we're here." The tip of his staff found the wall. "I'm no acrobat, Pig, and even if I were I'd imagine I might have trouble balancing on your shoulders in the dark. Can you stoop here, near this wall, so I can get on? And remain near enough for me to prop myself on it as you stand up? You'll find me heavy, I'm afraid."

"Yer, bucky?" Pig squeezed his shoulder. "Had me fetch oot a donsy mon, ance. Cap'n Lann, 'twas." Pig squatted, bringing his voice to the level of his listener's ear. "A heavy mon they said, yer ther h'only ane ter carry him. Climb h'on, bucky."

"I'm trying."

"'Twasn't easy ter find him, but he did nae weigh nae mair'n a pup. Me arms wanted ter tass him like a stick. Sae when Nall was safe 'twas back h'again an' here's yer horse. Had h'it behind me neck like a yowe. He was that fashed. Standin' noo, bucky. Got yer han' h'on ther wall?"

"Yes," he said, "I'm ready any time."

It was not as easy as he had hoped, but he was just able to squeeze through one of the ornamental crenels.

"Silk come!" Oreb announced proudly.

"Well..." He got his feet, puffing with exertion. "At least it's true Silk was up here once."

He leaned across the battlement, trying in vain to see his friend in the darkness. "Pig, do you think you might hand my staff up? I laid it by the wall, and I'll need it to feel my way along."

"Aye." A pause. "Here 'tis. Put h'out yer han'."

"No close. Come bird."

Oreb's owner felt a sudden thrill of fear. "Don't hit him with it by accident, as I did once."

"Got yer han' feelin' fer h'it, bucky?"

"Silk feel!"

"Yes. Yes, I-stop! It touched my fingers just then. There, I've got it."

"Guid. What h'about me, bucky? How's Pig ter get h'up?"

He straightened up, lifting the knobbed staff over the battlement and tapping the uneven surface on which he stood. "You're not. We have no way of doing that, and I'm not at all certain this roof would support your weight. I know Mucor, as I said; and she's been willing to do favors for me in the past. If I find her, I'll bring her to you." He weighed the morality of this statement for a moment and added, "Or send her."

Before Pig could object, he turned away. Once the questing tip of his staff found an aching void where the glass roof of the conservatory had been; after that, he stepped cautiously and stayed so near the battlement that from time to time his left leg brushed its merlons.

"Wall come," Oreb warned.

The tip of his staff discovered it. His hands, groping by instinct, found a window. He pushed aside what remained of a broken shutter. "Right here," he told Oreb. "Here it is, just as I imagined it. Is there anyone in there?"

"No man. No girl."

He put his staff through the window, turned it sidewise, and used it to pull himself up while the toes of his well-worn shoes scrabbled the wall. "This is the place, I feel sure. This was Mucor's room, the first room Silk entered when he broke into this house."

His staff discovered only the floor, and empty space. He asked, "Is there furniture in here, Oreb? A table? Anything of that kind?" Putting a hand on the wall, he took a cautious step, then another. "In Silk's day, the door was barred from outside," he told the darkness, "but it seems unlikely that's still the case." There was no reply. After half a minute more of cautious exploration he called, "Oreb? Oreb?" but no bird answered.

"Have you been bad?"

The voice seemed achingly remote. Aloud he said, "As if the speaker were in fact on Blue. As you are, I believe."

Silence and darkness, and the weight of years.

"I'd like to talk to you, Mucor. I've something to tell you and something to ask you, and a favor to ask as well. Won't you talk to me?"

The distant voice did not return. His fingers found the door and pulled it open.

"Have you been bad?"

He thought of Green and the war fought and lost there, of delectable nights with a one-armed lover whose lips had tasted of the saltsweet sea. "Yes, I have. Many times."

As though she had always been there, Mucor stood before him. "You came looking for me." It was not a question.

"Yes, to tell you that I'm here, and that I'm looking for eyes for your grandmother. I promised her I would."

"You've been gone a long time."

He nodded humbly. "I know. I've done my best to find Silk, but I haven't found him. I'm still looking."

"You will find him." Her tone admitted of no doubt.

"I will?" His heart leaped. "That's wonderful! Are you sure, Mucor? Do you really know the future, as gods do?"

She stood silent before him, no larger than a child, her face a skull, her lank black hair falling to her waist.

"You look..." He groped for words. "Like-the way you did the first time I saw you."

"Yes."

"As if you have starved almost to death. I-I thought that sailors brought your food there on your island, that you and your grandmother caught fish."

"You've been gone a long time," she repeated. This time she added, "I haven't."

"I see-or at least believe I see. Certainly I see you, which reminds me of the favor I must ask in a moment; before I do, where will I find Silk?"

"In whatever place you go."

"In Viron? Thank you, I'm sure you must be correct. Will you, Mucor, as a great favor to me, go outside and talk-if only just for a moment-to my friend Pig?"

In an instant she was gone, and he was left in darkness. Retracing his steps, he found her window again and looked out. He could see nothing, only darkness beyond that of any natural night. He heard Pig's voice, and although he could not make out what Pig had said, that voice overflowed with joy. There was a hiatus, a half minute of silence. Pig's deep tones came again, trembling and so freighted with exaltation that he knew Pig was near to weeping.

Hound stroked the donkey's smooth, soft nose, saying, "There, there. Nothing to worry about." The donkey (it was Tortoise, not the one Hound rode) seemed in less than full agreement, although determined to be polite.

"If there were wolves about, I'd know it, wouldn't I?" Hound stepped back and twirled his burning stick, whose faint flame had nearly died away. It made a pretty pattern of sparks, and fanned the flame enough to show the fearful donkeys huddled together with their forelegs hobbled.

"Bird back!" Oreb settled on one of Scylla's outstretched arms. "Bird back. Silk back. Come fire."

"I'm glad to hear it," Hound said, "I've been worrying about him. He and Pig have been gone a long time." Hound went through the portico and re-entered what had been Blood's reception hall. "There you are! Is everything all right, Horn?"

"No." He turned away from the fire. "May I have some more of your wine?"

"Go right ahead. Empty the bottle. There's not much left."

"Thank you."

"You look tired." Hound sat down next to him. "Maybe it's just the firelight. I hope so. But you don't look well."

"Good Silk," Oreb muttered, perching on his shoulder.

"I-" He drank, and put down the bottle. "That doesn't matter. I owe you an apology, and offer it freely. Before I left, I drank your good wine for a bad reason, which is a species of crime. There's something sacred about wine. Have you noticed?"

Hound shrugged. "It belongs to some minor god or other. But then everything does that doesn't belong to one of the Nine."

"To Thyone's son. Isn't it odd that I should remember it? Supposedly, there is no less significant fact in religion, yet that one has stuck with me. I recalled it when Nettle and I wrote our book about Patera Silk, and I recall it now. May I have some more?"

"Certainly." Hound handed him the bottle again.

"Wine is sacred to Thelxiepeia because it intoxicates and intoxication is hers, like magic, paradoxes, illusions and other things of that sort. But wine in and of itself is sacred to Thyone's son. Thyone is a very minor goddess."

"I don't mean to change the subject," Hound said, "but do you know what has become of Pig?"

"I do and I don't."

"Poor Pig!" Oreb croaked.

Both men were silent, looking into the fire; then Hound said, "You can't tell me what happened to him?"

"Nor what happened to me, though I suppose I'll talk about it when I've ordered my thoughts a bit more."

"Wise Silk!"

He smiled. "That's the sort of the thing Hammerstone was always saying about Patera Incus. Is Incus Prolocutor now?"

Hound nodded. "I think that's the name."

"That's very well. He may be willing to help me. There's only a swallow left, wouldn't you like it? Here."

"I've had more than my share already. I've been trying to remember the bad purpose you mentioned, and I can't. Wine does that to you, makes you forget. All that I can think of is that you said it might keep away ghosts, but not the ghost of the ugly daughter. You wanted to see her."

He nodded. "That was the bad purpose-keeping off the ghosts. We always go wrong when we use it for something other than itself, Hound. It's meant to be a beverage, a pleasant, refreshing drink, next to good cold water the best we have. When we use it for something else-to make us forget, which is what I meant when I said it might keep off the ghosts-or to warm us when we are chilled, we pervert it. Have you noticed, by the way, that it's no longer as hot as it was?"

Hound smiled. "You're right. Praise Pas!"

"No, not at all. Pas is the sun god, and it is blowing out the Long Sun that has cooled the whorl for us. I mentioned the son of Thyone. He's called that because no one knows his name-or much of anything else about him save that he's dark, and that wine is sacred to him. Am I boring you? We don't have to talk about this."

Hound raised the bottle, then lowered it again without drinking. "Not at all. What do you say we save this for Pig?"