"No fight!" Oreb advised.

"Tell it to the strong man. You're a wise bird and a good talker, but you're talking to the wrong person."

"But the gods..." Hound's voice faded away.

"The gods possess moral authority, granted. Great Pas, particularly, possesses it; and in fact the rest have it only because he accords it to them. If a god were to-but if is a children's word. No god has spoken to me. What were you about to say about Pig?"

"Horn..."

He could not see Hound's face from where he lay, or much of anything other than Blood's domed and painted ceiling, writhing figures less than half illuminated by the flickering firelight; but Hound sounded alarmed.

"Horn, you ought to at least consider obeying, even so. I mean, a godling... They don't talk to us much, but most people accept that they're relaying the gods' orders whenever they do. Everybody I know does. Didn't you promise?"

"Good Silk!" Oreb announced loyally.

"No, I didn't. The godling issued its orders and I asked some questions and nodded. That's as far as it went."

"But your nodding implied-"

"That I had heard its answers and understood them. That's all. My task is to find Silk-the godling said he was here- and take him to New Viron. I want to get home to Seawrack and the two sons who remain to us, Hound. I think I've been away for about a year. How would you feel if you'd been separated from Tansy for a year?"

"Is your wife's name Seawrack? I thought you called her something else."

"Did I say Seawrack? I'm sorry. My wife's name is Nettle. We're getting off the point, however. The point is that I gave my solemn word. To keep my oath, I've risked everything-and lost. Are you looking at my face, Hound? I feel your eyes."

"Yes."

"This is not my face. I've had little chance to study my reflection, but I don't need to-my fingers tell me so. Nor are these my fingers. I am neither so tall nor so slender. I have lost myself, you see, in service to my town. I won't turn aside after all I've been through. No, not if all the gods in Mainframe were to command it.

"Now, what were you about to say about Pig?"

"You lost your yourself?"

"I'm not prepared to discuss it. First, because you would credit nothing I said; and second, because we have a bargain. I've carried out my part. I've told you what the godling wanted me to do. Furthermore, I've explained why I won't do it. What were you on the point of saying about Pig?"

"This isn't it, but he's been gone an awfully long time."

"I know. I don't know whether he'll return to us tonight, and he may not return at all. Fulfill your part of our bargain."

"I will, but first let me say that some of it isn't true, all right? I'll tell you what I was going to say, but I've had time to think about it, so afterward I'm going to take some of it back." Hound paused.

"This is what I was going to say. I was going to say that you and I get along fine. Hound and Horn, right? It's the name of an inn up in the mountains. But I was going to say I don't like Pig. That's the part I want to take back. I was going to say that I didn't like Pig, and I thought he was dangerous-"

"Good Pig!"

"And I was going to give you the name of the inn I'm going to put up at. It's Ermine's, and I was going to say that after we say good bye and go our separate ways you could come there and stay with me, as long as you didn't bring Pig."

"That was generous of you. I certainly appreciate it." Still regarding the ceiling, the speaker smiled.

"Like I said, that about not liking Pig isn't really true. I'm afraid of him. He's huge and very strong, and I think his blindness makes him savage. It might make me savage too, being blind." Hound giggled nervously. "So I can't blame Pig for it. Just the same, he scares me. I'm still young and Tansy may be carrying our first child, and I don't want to get killed."

"Nor do we older people, I assure you. You say you don't dislike Pig. Do you like him?"

"I-" Hound hesitated. "Yes. Yes, I do. I'm still afraid of him, but I like him a lot."

"So do I. Thank you very much, Hound. For your offer of a place to sleep-I appreciate it, and may take you up on it-but most of all for confiding in me."

Hound swallowed. "You can bring Pig, if you want to."

"I thank you again, this time on his behalf. You are extremely generous."

"You said what I almost said might be important. It wasn't, and I realize it. But that's what it was. That's everything I was about to say."

"You're mistaken. It was fully as important as I thought it might be. Will you do me one more favor, Hound? You've done so many already that I hate to ask it, but I will. I do."

"Yes, absolutely. What is it?"

"Go to sleep."

"I was thinking... Pig's not coming back. I think we both know that. So I was thinking maybe I ought to go and see if I couldn't do what he said he was going to, find some old furniture to burn or tear off a couple of boards somewhere."

"Feed fire," Oreb elucidated.

"No. Go to sleep, please."

"It's getting colder."

"We must bear it. Please go to sleep."

Lying on his back with his hands behind his head, he talked to himself, telling himself how the Outsider had touched Patera Silk on the ball court between one moment and the next, and how he himself had played on, all unconscious of the momentous thing that had occurred, conscious only of the game, conscious that the ball had been snatched away as he was about to shoot, conscious that Patera Silk was a much better player than he would ever be, conscious of the sun-bright sky through which a flier floated, a black cross against the sun, a sign of addition that signed that something had been added to a whorl that would never be quite the same again, that the gods' god who had been outside for so long had come in, a whispering breeze stronger than Pas's howling, whirling storm.

Conscious too that he himself was a painted wooden figure in a blue coat moved by strings, a blue-coated figure atop a music box, whose blue coat was a coat of paint, unconscious of all that passed when the box was silent, when the clever, shiny spring inside no longer uncoiled to move him and his partner through the mad gyrations prescribed for the tune played by the steel comb that sang to itself of a virgin braiding her hair by candlelight, a virgin glimpsed by a vagrant stealing his supper from her father's garden, apples more precious because he had glimpsed her then, seated on her bed in her chemise, and she was the most beautiful woman in the whorl, was Kypris and Hyacinth because she had yet to learn how beautiful she was and the power of her smile.

Trampin' outwards from the city,

No more lookin' than was she,

'Twas there I spied a garden pretty

A fountain and an apple tree.

These fair young girls live to deceive you,

Sad experience teaches me.

Dark hair braided like a crown, and a smile that tore the heart. The mandola had not been played particularly well, and the sweet, soft voice of had been of limited range. And yet-and yet...

Stretched and felt before I dared to,

Shinnied easy up the tree,

Saw her sitting by the window.

Busy as a honeybee.

These fair young girls live to deceive you,

Sad experience teaches me.

"No sing," muttered Oreb, no singer himself. "No cry."

I'm old now, and soon must leave you,

But fairer maid I ne'er did see.

Curse me not that I bereave you,

I cannot stay, no more would she.

These fair younggirls live to deceive you,

Sad experiences teaches me.

"Poor Silk!"

He sat up, then rose quietly and tossed the smoldering stubs of burned sticks into the fire. From the sound of his breathing, Hound was not yet asleep. He lay down again.

"Patera? Patera, are you awake?" He is Horn calling beneath Silk's bedroom window.

He is Silk replying from the window. "Yes, but Patera Pike's still asleep, I believe. Keep your voice down."

"... dying, Mother says. She sent me to get you."

He knelt in prayer beside the bedside while Silk swung his beads in the sign of addition, knelt beside the praying boy while bringing the Peace of Pas to the gray-faced old woman in the bed. "I convey to you, my daughter, the forgiveness of the gods. Recall now the words of Pas, who said, `Do my will, live in peace, multiply, and do not disturb my seal. Thus you shall escape my wrath. Go willingly-' "

Go willingly-

Go willingly...

The dying woman's head rolls upon her pillow. "Nettle? Where's Nettle? Nettle?"

She rises and takes the dying woman's hand. "I'm here. I'm right here, Grandma."

"I loved you, Nettle."

"I know, Grandma. I love you, too."

He watched them through two pairs of eyes.

"I want you to know, Nettle, that you've been loved. I want you to remember it. Someone loved you once. Someone may love you again, Nettle."

It echoed and re-echoed: someone may love you, Nettle.

He blinked and woke, not certain that he was not still dreaming. And at last sat up, shivering.

Their fire was nearly out. Hound had rolled himself in his blanket and was breathing deeply and heavily. Oreb was nowhere to be seen. Blood had said, "Did you walk out here, Patera? My floater'll take you back. If you tell about our little agreement..."

Arm in arm they had staggered and stumbled through this very room, he eager-no, Patera Silk eager to keep Blood beside him so that Blood would not take note of Hyacinth's azoth tucked into the back of his waistband and covered by his tunic, Musk escorting them to a floater driven by Willet, a Trivigaunti spy.

From up there (he could barely see the place) he had looked down into this room, where middle-aged men in evening clothes had stood drinking and talking while blood from the gash the whiteheaded one had made in his arm dripped unseen onto the carpeting.

Had stood with his back against a white statue of Thyone. He strained to see it in the darkness, and had made it out at last and started toward it when it moved.

Leaning over the balustrade, Thyone became Mucor, then faded like mist. Nodding to himself, he took out the lantern Hound had given him and lit its candle with a stick from the fire.

He heard Pig's muttered exclamation as he turned in to the suite that had been Hyacinth's and called softly, "Silk? Silk? Where are you, Silk?," reminding himself forcibly of Oreb.

"Lookin' ter get killed?" There was no friendship in Pig's voice.

"Silk, I know you're in him, and I must talk with you."

The long blade slithered from the brass-tipped scabbard. Looking through the doorway into the bedroom, he saw Pig's blind and terrible face, and the sword blade tasting the air like the steel tongue of a great iron snake.

"I have a light. I know you can't see it, but I do. Without it-"

Pig was coming toward him, guided by his voice and groping for him with that terrible blade.

"I wouldn't have had the courage. If you kill me, my ghost will remain here with Hyacinth's. Have you thought of that?"

Pig hesitated.

"Whenever you come looking for her, you'll find me, too."

"Bucky

"I like you, Pig, but I don't want to talk to you at the moment. I came here at the risk of my life to speak with your rider. Talk to me, Patera, or kill me here and now. I have no weapon, and those are the only choices open to you."

"Then I'll talk with you," Pig said, and sheathed his sword. "You knew because I couldn't help coming here, didn't you? You say you have a lantern?"

"Yes." He felt that a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "No, and yes. That's what I ought to say. If it had only been that Pig wanted very much to be alone in this room, I don't believe I'd have guessed. I would have thought of Silk the god, of Silver Silk as the augurs call you, with Kypris and dismissed the thought. You're not with her now, I realize. As long as Pig is blind, you can't go back to her."

"Correct. Though I would try to have his sight restored in any case, just as you yourself are making a praiseworthy effort to restore Maytera's."

"You even sound like yourself, Patera." He held up his lantern, letting its glow fill the whole sad, empty room. "It's uncanny, hearing your voice from Pig's lips and larynx. The voice is surely much more a function of the spirit than I ever realized. Chenille must have sounded very different indeed when she was possessed by Kypris."

"She did. You said it wasn't merely my coming here, Horn. What was it?"

He sighed. "I wish I'd known when Nettle and I wrote our book. I would have emphasized the changes in voice more. If I didn't have a light, I'd be ready to swear Patera Silk was standing before me in person."

"Standing before you and quizzing you, Horn. How did you know? I won't make you reply, though I probably could. I'll be grateful for an answer, just the same."

"I wish I had a good one. Last night I dreamed that Pig took off his bandage; and when he did, his face was yours. So I must have sensed something. We call him Pig, and talk about him as if that were really his name; but it's just a name of the Vironese type that he chose for himself yesterday."

"I remember."

"You would of course. Tonight Hound said our names were linked-Hound and Horn, like a hunting inn. That started me thinking about Pig's name, because I feel closer to Pig than to Hound, though Hound has been so kind to us, and I recalled the old saying, that you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. A silk purse generally means a purse made of silk, but it could also be purse to contain Silk."

Pig chuckled.

"Pig, or you in Pig, might have thought it amusing to give the proverb the lie-so it seemed to me. Then too, men rarely like the men they fear; but Hound likes Pig and fears him, too. You were the only man I'd known who had that kind of unconscious charm; but Pig has it. And, as you say, Pig had sought out this room, which used to be Hyacinth's, and was enraged at the prospect of being disturbed here."

"It was Pig who was angry," Pig said.