unconsciousness, which contains the unborn and so many of the dead.
" Do you know who I am? "
I did, though I could not have said how. "You are the captain."
" I am. Who am I? "
"Master," I said, for it seemed I was an apprentice once more. "Master, I do not understand."
" Who captains the ship? "
"Master, I do not know."
" I am your judge. This blossoming universe has been given to my guardianship. My name is Tzadkiel ."
"Master," I said, "is this my trial?"
" No. And it is my own trial that grows near, not yours. You have been a warrior king, Severian. Will you fight for me? Fight willingly? "
"Gladly, master."
My own voice seemed to echo in the dream: "Master...master...master..." There was no reply beyond a booming reverberation. The sun was dead, and I was alone in the freezing dark.
"Master! Master!"
Zak was shaking my shoulder.
I sat up, thinking for a moment that he had more speech than I had supposed. "Hush, I'm awake," I said.
He parroted me: " Hush! "
"Was I talking in my sleep, Zak? I must have been, for you to hear that word. I remember—"
I fell silent because he had cupped a hand to his ear. I listened too and heard yells and scuffling. Someone called my name.
Zak was out the door before me, not so much running as launching himself in a flat leap. I was not far behind him, and after bruising my hands on the first wall, I learned to twist myself and strike them with my feet first as he did.
A corner and another, and we caught sight of a knot of struggling men. Another leap shot us among them, I not knowing which side was ours, or even if we had one. A sailor with a knife in his left hand sprang at me. I caught him as Master Gurloes had once taught me and threw him against a wall, only then seeing that he was Purn. There was no time for apology or question. The dagger of an indigo giant thrust for my lungs. I struck his thick wrist with both arms, and too late saw a second dagger, its blade held beneath his other hand. It flashed up. I tried to writhe away; a struggling pair pushed me back, and I beheld the steel-hearted blue nenuphar of death.
As if the laws of nature had been suspended for me, it did not descend. The giant's backward motion never stopped, fist and blade continuing backward until he himself was bent backward too, and I heard his shoulder snap, and the wild scream he gave when the jagged bones tore him from within.
Big though his hand was, the pommel of his dagger protruded from it. I got it in one hand and a quillon in the other, and wrenched the weapon free—then drove it up into his rib cage. He fell backward as a tree falls, slowly at first, his legs always stiff beneath him. Zak, hanging from his uplifted arm, tore the other dagger from him, much as I had the one I held.
Each was large enough for a short sword, and we did some damage with them. I would have done more if I had not had to step between Zak and some sailor who thought him a jiber.
Such fights end as suddenly as they begin. One runs, then another, and then all the rest must, being too few to fight. So it was with us. A wild-haired jiber with the teeth of an atrox tried to beat down my blade with a mace of pipe. I half severed his wrist, stabbed him in the throat—and realized that save for Zak I had no comrades left. A sailor dashed past, clutching his bleeding arm. I followed him, shouting for Zak.
If we were pursued, it was with little zeal. We fled down a twisting gangway and through an echoing chamber full of silent machinery, along a second gangway (tracking those we followed by fresh blood on the floors and bulkheads, and once by the body of a sailor) and into a smaller chamber where there were tools and workbenches, and five sailors, full of sighs and curses as they bandaged one another's wounds.
"Who are you?" one asked. He menaced me with his dirk.
Purn said, "I know him. He's a passenger." His right hand had been wrapped in bloodstained gauze and taped.
"And this?" The sailor with the dirk
" Do you know who I am? "
I did, though I could not have said how. "You are the captain."
" I am. Who am I? "
"Master," I said, for it seemed I was an apprentice once more. "Master, I do not understand."
" Who captains the ship? "
"Master, I do not know."
" I am your judge. This blossoming universe has been given to my guardianship. My name is Tzadkiel ."
"Master," I said, "is this my trial?"
" No. And it is my own trial that grows near, not yours. You have been a warrior king, Severian. Will you fight for me? Fight willingly? "
"Gladly, master."
My own voice seemed to echo in the dream: "Master...master...master..." There was no reply beyond a booming reverberation. The sun was dead, and I was alone in the freezing dark.
"Master! Master!"
Zak was shaking my shoulder.
I sat up, thinking for a moment that he had more speech than I had supposed. "Hush, I'm awake," I said.
He parroted me: " Hush! "
"Was I talking in my sleep, Zak? I must have been, for you to hear that word. I remember—"
I fell silent because he had cupped a hand to his ear. I listened too and heard yells and scuffling. Someone called my name.
Zak was out the door before me, not so much running as launching himself in a flat leap. I was not far behind him, and after bruising my hands on the first wall, I learned to twist myself and strike them with my feet first as he did.
A corner and another, and we caught sight of a knot of struggling men. Another leap shot us among them, I not knowing which side was ours, or even if we had one. A sailor with a knife in his left hand sprang at me. I caught him as Master Gurloes had once taught me and threw him against a wall, only then seeing that he was Purn. There was no time for apology or question. The dagger of an indigo giant thrust for my lungs. I struck his thick wrist with both arms, and too late saw a second dagger, its blade held beneath his other hand. It flashed up. I tried to writhe away; a struggling pair pushed me back, and I beheld the steel-hearted blue nenuphar of death.
As if the laws of nature had been suspended for me, it did not descend. The giant's backward motion never stopped, fist and blade continuing backward until he himself was bent backward too, and I heard his shoulder snap, and the wild scream he gave when the jagged bones tore him from within.
Big though his hand was, the pommel of his dagger protruded from it. I got it in one hand and a quillon in the other, and wrenched the weapon free—then drove it up into his rib cage. He fell backward as a tree falls, slowly at first, his legs always stiff beneath him. Zak, hanging from his uplifted arm, tore the other dagger from him, much as I had the one I held.
Each was large enough for a short sword, and we did some damage with them. I would have done more if I had not had to step between Zak and some sailor who thought him a jiber.
Such fights end as suddenly as they begin. One runs, then another, and then all the rest must, being too few to fight. So it was with us. A wild-haired jiber with the teeth of an atrox tried to beat down my blade with a mace of pipe. I half severed his wrist, stabbed him in the throat—and realized that save for Zak I had no comrades left. A sailor dashed past, clutching his bleeding arm. I followed him, shouting for Zak.
If we were pursued, it was with little zeal. We fled down a twisting gangway and through an echoing chamber full of silent machinery, along a second gangway (tracking those we followed by fresh blood on the floors and bulkheads, and once by the body of a sailor) and into a smaller chamber where there were tools and workbenches, and five sailors, full of sighs and curses as they bandaged one another's wounds.
"Who are you?" one asked. He menaced me with his dirk.
Purn said, "I know him. He's a passenger." His right hand had been wrapped in bloodstained gauze and taped.
"And this?" The sailor with the dirk
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