Nightside the Long Sun by Gene Wolfe Page B

Juzgado’s still open.”
    â€œThey wouldn’t be, Patera. They close there about the same time as the market.”
    It was hard for him to force himself to speak. “Then I must proceed. I must act tonight.” He hesitated while some frightened portion of his mind battered the ivory walls that confined it. “Of course this may not be the Blood you know, Auk. There must be a great many people of that name. Could Blood—the Blood you know—buy our manteion? It must be worth twenty thousand cards or more.”
    â€œTen,” Auk muttered. “Twelve, maybe, only he probably got it for the taxes. What’s he look like, Patera?”
    â€œA tall, heavy man. Angry looking, I’d say, although it may only have been that his face was flushed. There are wide bones under his plump cheeks, or so I’d guess.”
    â€œLots of rings?”
    Silk struggled to recall the prosperous-looking man’s fat, smooth hands. “Yes,” he said. “Several, at least.”
    â€œCould you smell him?”
    â€œAre you asking whether he smelled bad? No, certainly not. In fact—”
    Auk grunted. “What was it?”
    â€œI have no idea, but it reminded me of the scented oil—no doubt you’ve noticed it—in the lamp before Scylla, in our manteion. A sweet, heavy odor, not quite so pungent as incense.”
    â€œHe calls it musk rose,” Auk said dryly. “Musk’s a buck that works for him.”
    â€œIt is the Blood you know, then.”
    â€œYeah, it is. Now be quiet a minute, Patera. I got to remember the words.” Auk rocked back and forth. There was a faint noise like the grating of sand on a shiprock floor as he rubbed his massive jaw. “As a penance for the evil that you’re getting ready to do, Patera, you got to perform two or three meritorious acts I’ll tell you about tonight.”
    â€œThat is too light a penance,” Silk protested.
    â€œDon’t weigh feathers with me, Patera, ’cause you don’t know what they are yet. You’re going to do ’em, ain’t you?”
    â€œYes, Auk,” Silk said humbly.
    â€œThat’s good. Don’t forget. All right, then I bring to you, Patera, the pardons of all the gods. In the name of Great Pas, you’re forgiven. In the name of Echidna, you’re forgiven. In the name of Scylla, of Molpe, of Tartaros, of Hierax, of Thelxiepeia, of Phaea, of Sphigx, and of all the lesser gods, you’re forgiven, Patera, by the powers trusted to me.”
    Silk traced the sign of addition, hoping that the big man was doing the same over his head.
    The big man cleared his throat. “Was that all right?”
    â€œYes,” Silk said, rising. “It was very good indeed, for a layman.”
    â€œThanks. Now about Blood. You say you’re going to solve his place, but you don’t even know where it is.”
    â€œI can ask directions when I reach the Palatine.” Silk was dusting his knees. “Blood isn’t a particular friend of yours, I hope.”
    Auk shook his head. “It ain’t there. I been there a time or two, and that gets us to one of those meritorious acts that you just now promised me about. You got to let me take you there.”
    â€œIf it isn’t inconvenient—”
    â€œIt’s shaggy—excuse me, Patera. Yeah, it’s going to put me out by a dog’s right, only you got to let me do it anyhow, if you really go to Blood’s. If you don’t, you’ll get lost sure trying to find it. Or somebody’ll know you, and that’ll be worse. But first you’re going to give Blood a whistle on my glass over there, see? Maybe he’ll talk to you, or if he wants to see you he might even send somebody.”
    Auk strode across the room and clapped his hands; the monitor’s colorless face rose from the depths of the glass.
    â€œI want Blood,” Auk told it. “That’s