rote, though until he used each for the first time we had never heard them. Foila seemed to speak as women commonly do, and if I had been asked whether she employed such tags, I would have said that she did not—but how often one might have predicted the ends of her sentences from their beginnings.
Second, I learned how difficult it is to eliminate the urge for expression. The people of Ascia were reduced to speaking only with their masters' voice; but they had made of it a new tongue, and I had no doubt, after hearing the Ascian, that by it he could express whatever thought he wished.
And third, I learned once again what a many-sided thing is the telling of any tale. None, surely, could be plainer than the Ascian's, yet what did it mean? Was it intended to praise the Group of Seventeen? The mere terror of their name had routed the evildoers.
Was it intended to condemn them?
They had heard the complaints of the just man, and yet they had done nothing for him beyond giving him their verbal support. There had been no indication they would ever do more.
But I had not learned those things I had most wished to learn as I listened to the Ascian and to Foila. What had been her motive in agreeing to allow the Ascian to compete? Mere mischief? From her laughing eyes I could easily believe it. Was she perhaps in truth Wolfe,_Gene_-_Book_of_the_New_Sun_4_-_The_Citadel_of_the_Autarch attracted to him? I found that more difficult to credit, but it was surely not impossible. Who has not seen women attracted to men lacking every attractive quality? She had clearly had much to do with Ascians, and he was clearly no ordinary soldier, since he had been taught our language. Did she hope to wring some secret from him?
And what of him? Melito and Hallvard had accused each other of telling tales with an ulterior purpose. Had he done so as well? If he had, it had surely been to tell Foila—and the rest of us too—that he would never give up.
XII
Winnoc
That evening I had yet another visitor: one of the shaven-headed male slaves. I had been sitting up and attempting to talk with the Ascian, and he seated himself beside me. "Do you remember me, Lictor?" he asked. "My name is Winnoc."
I shook my head.
"It was I who bathed you and cared for you on the night you arrived," he told me. "I have been waiting until you were well enough to speak. I would have come last night, but you were deep in talk already with one of our postulants."
I asked what he wished to speak to me about.
"A moment ago I called you Lictor, and you did not deny it. Are you indeed a lictor? You were dressed as one that night."
Wolfe,_Gene_-_Book_of_the_New_Sun_4_-_The_Citadel_of_the_Autarch
"I have been a lictor," I said. "Those are the only clothes I own."
"But you are a lictor no longer?"
I shook my head. "I came north to enter the army."
"Ah," he said. For a moment he looked away.
"Surely others do the same."
"A few, yes. Most join in the south, or are made to join. A few come north like you, because they want some special unit where a friend or relation is already. A soldier's life…"
I waited for him to continue.
"It's a lot like a slave's, I think. I've never been a soldier myself, but I've talked to a lot of them."
"Is your life so miserable? I would have thought the Pelerines kind mistresses. Do they beat you?"
He smiled at that and turned until I could see his back. "You've been a lictor. What do you think of my scars?"
In the fading light I could scarcely make them out. I ran my fingers across them. "Only that they are very old and were made with the lash," I said.
"I got them before I was twenty, and I'm nearly fifty now. A man with black clothes like yours made them. Were you a lictor for long?"
"No, not long."
"Then you don't know much of the business?"
"Enough to practice it."
Wolfe,_Gene_-_Book_of_the_New_Sun_4_-_The_Citadel_of_the_Autarch
"And that's all? The man who whipped me told me he was from the guild of torturers. I thought
Second, I learned how difficult it is to eliminate the urge for expression. The people of Ascia were reduced to speaking only with their masters' voice; but they had made of it a new tongue, and I had no doubt, after hearing the Ascian, that by it he could express whatever thought he wished.
And third, I learned once again what a many-sided thing is the telling of any tale. None, surely, could be plainer than the Ascian's, yet what did it mean? Was it intended to praise the Group of Seventeen? The mere terror of their name had routed the evildoers.
Was it intended to condemn them?
They had heard the complaints of the just man, and yet they had done nothing for him beyond giving him their verbal support. There had been no indication they would ever do more.
But I had not learned those things I had most wished to learn as I listened to the Ascian and to Foila. What had been her motive in agreeing to allow the Ascian to compete? Mere mischief? From her laughing eyes I could easily believe it. Was she perhaps in truth Wolfe,_Gene_-_Book_of_the_New_Sun_4_-_The_Citadel_of_the_Autarch attracted to him? I found that more difficult to credit, but it was surely not impossible. Who has not seen women attracted to men lacking every attractive quality? She had clearly had much to do with Ascians, and he was clearly no ordinary soldier, since he had been taught our language. Did she hope to wring some secret from him?
And what of him? Melito and Hallvard had accused each other of telling tales with an ulterior purpose. Had he done so as well? If he had, it had surely been to tell Foila—and the rest of us too—that he would never give up.
XII
Winnoc
That evening I had yet another visitor: one of the shaven-headed male slaves. I had been sitting up and attempting to talk with the Ascian, and he seated himself beside me. "Do you remember me, Lictor?" he asked. "My name is Winnoc."
I shook my head.
"It was I who bathed you and cared for you on the night you arrived," he told me. "I have been waiting until you were well enough to speak. I would have come last night, but you were deep in talk already with one of our postulants."
I asked what he wished to speak to me about.
"A moment ago I called you Lictor, and you did not deny it. Are you indeed a lictor? You were dressed as one that night."
Wolfe,_Gene_-_Book_of_the_New_Sun_4_-_The_Citadel_of_the_Autarch
"I have been a lictor," I said. "Those are the only clothes I own."
"But you are a lictor no longer?"
I shook my head. "I came north to enter the army."
"Ah," he said. For a moment he looked away.
"Surely others do the same."
"A few, yes. Most join in the south, or are made to join. A few come north like you, because they want some special unit where a friend or relation is already. A soldier's life…"
I waited for him to continue.
"It's a lot like a slave's, I think. I've never been a soldier myself, but I've talked to a lot of them."
"Is your life so miserable? I would have thought the Pelerines kind mistresses. Do they beat you?"
He smiled at that and turned until I could see his back. "You've been a lictor. What do you think of my scars?"
In the fading light I could scarcely make them out. I ran my fingers across them. "Only that they are very old and were made with the lash," I said.
"I got them before I was twenty, and I'm nearly fifty now. A man with black clothes like yours made them. Were you a lictor for long?"
"No, not long."
"Then you don't know much of the business?"
"Enough to practice it."
Wolfe,_Gene_-_Book_of_the_New_Sun_4_-_The_Citadel_of_the_Autarch
"And that's all? The man who whipped me told me he was from the guild of torturers. I thought
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