Return to the Whorl (The Book of the Short Sun #3)

Return to the Whorl (The Book of the Short Sun #3) Page 9

The householder stepped back, evoking a terrified squeal from his wife. He held a candle in one hand and a butcher knife of substantial proportions in the other, and seemed inclined to surrender neither one.

"That's much better. May the Outsider, Pas, and every other god bless this house." Smiling, their visitor traced the sign of addition before turning back to Pig and wincing at his first real sight of that exceedingly large face, all dirty rag, straggling hair, and curling black beard. Pig was preparing to enter the house on his knees, ducking under the lintel and working his shoulders through the doorway.

"We're looking for eyes." It seemed a happy inspiration under the circumstances. "Eyes for my friend here. Do you know of a physician capable of replacing a blind man's eyes?"

"In the city," the householder managed. "In Viron, it might be done."

It was progress of a sort. "Good. What is his name?"

"I don't know, but-but..."

"But they might have someone?"

The householder nodded eagerly.

"I see-though my unfortunate friend does not. We must go to the city in that case."

The householder nodded again, more eagerly than ever.

"We shall. But we must rest first." He tried to recall when he had last slept, and failed. "We must find a place to sleep, and beg food-"

Oreb lit on his shoulder. "Fish heads?"

"Something for my bird, at least, and something-I'm afraid it will have to be quite a lot-for my friend Pig. We're sorry to have frightened you; but we could hear you inside, and when you wouldn't come to the door it made Pig angry."

The householder muttered something unintelligible.

"Thank you. Thank you very much. We really do appreciate it."

Loudly enough to be overheard, the householder's wife whispered, "... doesn't look like an augur."

"I am not. I'm a layman, just as your husband is, and have a wife of my own at home. Does it bother you that I blessed you? A layman may bless, I assure you; so may a laywoman."

"I'm Hound," the householder said. "My wife's Tansy." He tried to give his butcher knife to her, and when she would not take it, tossed it onto a chair and offered his hand.

"My own name is Horn." They shook hands, and Pig extended his, the size of a grocer's scoop. "Sorry ter a' scared yer."

"And my bird is-"

"Oreb!"

Tansy smiled, and her smile lit her small, pale face. "I'll get you some soup."

"You can sleep here," Hound told them. "In the house here, or... Would you like to eat out back? It's going to be a little cramped in here. There's a big tree in back, and there's a table there, and benches."

There were. Pig sat on the ground, and the other two on the benches Hound had mentioned. "We've beer." Hound sounded apologetic. "No wine, I'm sorry to say."

"How's yer water?"

"Oh, we've a good well. Would you prefer water?"

"Aye. Thank yer."

Hound, who had just sat down, rose with alacrity. "Horn, what about you? Beer?"

"Water, please. You might bring some sort of small container that Oreb could drink from, too, if it isn't too much trouble."

Tansy arrived with bulging pockets and a steaming tureen. "I try to keep fire in the stove, you know, so I don't have to lay a new one for every meal. I'll bet your wife does the same thing."

He nodded. "You'd win that bet."

"So when we have soup, why not keep it there so it stays warm? That way I can have some hot quickly. It-it really isn't any particular kind of soup, I suppose. Just what Hound and I eat ourselves. There's beans in it, and potatoes, and carrots for flavor."

"Guid ter smell h'all ther same. Ham, ter. Pig winds h'it."

The tureen received a place of honor in the center of the table next to Hound's candle. Four large bowls clattered down, followed by rattling spoons. "I'll get some bread. What's her name, Horn?"

He looked up, surprised.

"Your wife's?"

"Oh. Nettle. Her name is Nettle. I don't suppose you knew her as a child? Years ago in the city?"

"No. It's not a common name. I don't think I've ever known a Nettle." Tansy backed away, paused for a hurried conversation with her husband at the well, and retreated to her kitchen.

"She'll bring cups or something," Hound explained, setting his water bucket on the table beside the soup tureen, "and beer for me. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." He paused, trying to collect his thoughts. "May Imight we, I ought to say-begin by telling each other who we are? I realize it's not the conventional way to start a conversation; but you see, I need information badly and hope that when the three of you know why I need it as badly as I do, you'll be more inclined to give it to me."

Tansy set a bread board, a big loaf of dark bread, and the butcher knife on the table, and handed pannikins around. "I can tell you who Hound and I are, and I will too, unless he wants to. Shall I?"

"Go ahead," Hound said.

Pig found his pannikin and pushed it across the table. "Better h'if yer fill h'it fer me."

"You know our names," Tansy began. "You wanted to know if I knew your wife in the city when I was a little girl, and I didn't. I grew up right here in Endroad. So did Hound. We did live in the city up until about five years ago, though. There wasn't any work out here then."

Hound said, "There isn't any now, or very little."

"So we went to the city and worked there till my father passed away, and then my mother wrote and said we could have the shop." Tansy began ladling out soup.

"Mother lives next door," Hound explained, "that's why it bothered Tansy so much when you said you'd kick in her door too."

"So that's what we do now. Hound goes into the city, mostly, and tries to find things people want that we can buy at a good price, and he's very good at it. Mother and I stay in the store, mostly, and sell the things. We have hammers and nails, we sell a lot of those. And tacks and screws, and then general tinware, and crockery."

Hound added, "We have drills, planes, and saws, all of which my wife forgot to mention. I did cabinet work before we got the shop. We own our little house. Mother owns her house and the shop. We give her so much each week from what the shop takes in, and she helps Tansy there sometimes. So that's who we are, Horn, unless you want to hear about brothers and sisters."

He shook his head. "Thank you. By rights, we strangers should have gone first. It was gracious of you to give the example yourselves." He returned the pannikin, which he had filled with well water. "Here you are, Pig. It's good water, I'm sure. When we met, you told me you were journeying west, I believe."

"Aye."

He ladled water into his own, then held the ladle so that Oreb could drink from it. "Are you willing to tell us anything more? If you aren't, that should be sufficient, surely."

"Ho, aye. Dinna like ter snivel's h'all. What yer want ter know?"

Tansy ventured, "What happened to you? How...?"

Pig laughed, a deep booming. "How come yer nae sae big h'as me? Freak's what Ma said."

"How you..." Tansy's voice fell away. "We-we'd like to have a child, and I worry, you know, that something might be wrong with it. Not... Not that it would grow up big and strong. I'd like that."

Hound said, "Without offense. Could you see, when you were a boy? "

"Ho, aye. Was a trooper's h'all. Got caught, an' they dinna like me. Seen a dagger comin' h'at me een, an' 'twas ther last. Took me 'round h'after, h'only Pig canna see 'em nae mair. Heard 'em, though. Threw things h'at me, ter. 'Twas h'in ther light lands, ther mountings. Doon here's flatlands." Pig spooned up more soup and swallowed noisily. "Yer nae eatin' naethin', bucky. What's wrong wi' yer?"

"I-" He picked up his spoon. "Because you would have heard me, I suppose, if I had been-though I try to make as little noise as I can, eating soup. You came here seeking new eyes, Pig?"

"Aye. Yer knows a' ther wee folk, bucky?"

"Children, you mean? Or us? We must seem very small indeed to you."

"Smaller'n yer. Hereabout folk don't know such, but h'in ther light lands 'tis different. They comes, an' they goes." Pig held out his hand, scarcely higher than the table. "Little bits a' men, an' morts small ter them h'even. 'Fore me een's took, they dinna hardly never come. Not many's never seed such h'up close, like. H'after, they come 'round lots, knowin' 'twas safe wi' me, lang h'as they stayed h'out a' me reach."

Pig paused, his big fingers groping his beard. "They'd nae been afore, maybe. Canna say. Ane name a' Flannan come particular h'often. Still nae eatin' yer soup, bucky?"

"I suppose I'm not especially hungry-" he began.

"Bird eat!"

"Besides, I was listening to you with rapt attention." He dipped up soup, and sipped. "This was in the mountains, in the light lands, as you call them?"

"Ho, aye. Na braithrean was takin' care a' me, after 'em what had me give me h'up. Settin' Nall ter meself h'in ther sun. Settin' h'on a stone, knew 'twas h'in the sun by the warm a' h'it h'on me clock, an' here's Flannan. H'in ther west, he says, they gie new een. Gae ter t'other h'end a' ther sun. 'Tis Mainframe says h'it, Flannan says. What fashes yer, bucky?"

He had dropped his spoon into his bowl, and Tansy asked, "Yes, what is it?"

"I understand! I-what a fool! You talked about little people, Pig, and I ought to have understood you at once. They fly, don't they?"

"Do they fly, bucky? They do."

"We call them Fliers here," he said, "and I used to know one. The mountains you mentioned, are those the Mountains That Look at Mountains?"

"Aye, bucky, but 'tis lang h'on ther tongue sae Pig says mountings, mostly."

He spoke to Tansy and Hound. "The Mountains That Look at Mountains surround Mainframe at the East Pole. I went there once. We flew over them."

Wide-eyed, Tansy asked, "Can you fly, too? Like a Flier?"

"No. I was a-a passenger, I suppose I should say, on the airship of the Rani of Trivigaunte. Auk and Chenille and Nettle and me. And Maytera, too, and Patera Remora. A lot of people. We went to Mainframe and spoke with the dead. I know how that sounds, how incredible. You need not believe me, and I won't blame you in the least if you don't."

"Bird go!" Oreb declared.

"Will you, good bird?" He fished a slice of celery from his soup and offered it.

"This is..." Tansy pushed a lock of her long hair from her eyes. "You really are extraordinary people, Horn. Both of you are."

"Everyone is an extraordinary person," he told her solemnly. "I haven't profited from life as I should. I haven't learned very much at all. But I have learned that, a fact I know beyond all doubt and question. That's something, surely."

He turned back to Pig. "But you don't want to hear about me, and I certainly don't want to hear about myself. My mind keeps talking to me about myself all the time, and to confess the truth, I'm heartily sick of it. This Flier, Flannan-he said that they could give you new eyes at the West Pole? And that Mainframe had told him it was possible?"

"Did he say sae? He did. Soon h'as he's h'off himself, 'tis ther road fer Pig. 'Tis a lang 'un, though."

Hound asked, "To the West Pole? I've never heard of anyone traveling anything like that far. Have you, Horn?"

"No. It's hundreds of leagues, I'm sure. If memory serves, Sciathan-that was the Flier I knew-said once that it would take months for a mounted party to reach the East Pole, and I believe we're considerably nearer the East Pole than the West. It might easily take Pig years to walk to the West Pole. Or so I would imagine."

"'Tis been a year fer me h'already, bucky." Pig inclined toward him, his great, homely face, banded with its soiled rag and lit from below by the flickering candle, desperate and resolute. "H'only ter me, h'if een can be put back there, een can be put back somewhere h'else, like Was nae. Sae why nae h'ask h'along yer way?"

"Why not indeed?"

"Gae ter t'other h'end, though, h'if there's nae help fer h'it. Yer need nae come wi' me, h'if yer finds yer h'own short a' there."

The man Pig called bucky smiled, sipped his water, and smiled again. "Which brings us to me, I'm afraid. Shall I recount my tale?"

Pig grunted, and Hound and Tansy nodded, while Oreb bobbed his approval. "Silk talk!"

"My name is Horn, as you know. I was born in the city; I lived there until the age of fifteen, when a group of us boarded the lander that carried us to Blue, where we founded the town we call New Viron. My wife, Nettle, and I settled outside the town, on Lizard Island. We manufacture paper there and sell it-or we did." He took another sip of water. "It's so hot here. I had forgotten."

Hound said, "Lately. Hot summers and short winters."

"Yes, I remember now. Mainframe is losing control of the sun, and Pas is trying to drive all of you out."

Tansy nodded. "That's what the augurs say."

"Gae h'on, bucky."

"As you wish. New Viron has grown-I won't call it a city, yet that would be only a slight exaggeration. Others have come, of course, and some have joined us, coming to live in New Viron or working land in its territory, or fishing or lumbering. Some have been from Viron itself, some from Limna and the other villages, no doubt including this one, and some from foreign cities. When a group from a foreign city lands, they are not permitted to establish a town of their own where they landed, for reasons that should be apparent. They must either join us in New Viron or leave our territory. Most choose to unite themselves to us."

Hound said, "I understand."

"Some are forced to stay and labor for us, I'm sorry to say, and are bought and sold like cattle; in any case, they too swell our population. There has been natural increase as well, as one would expect. Nettle and I have three sons, and ours is not considered a large family. Families with eight or ten children are by no means uncommon."