Return To The Whorl Part 17

"Yes." His face was solemn in the flickering firelight, his blue eyes lost beneath their graying brows. "There were human embryos as well. There were also seeds, kept frozen like the embryos, so that they would sprout even after hundreds of years; but it is with the human embryos that you and I have to do, because Mucor was such an embryo. So was Patera Silk."

"Calde Silk? You can't be serious!"

He shook his head. "I set out to explain Mucor, but there would be no Mucor--or so I believe--without Patera Silk. Nor would either of them exist without Pas, who was called Typhon on the Short Sun Whorl."

Hound said, "I've heard that the G.o.ds have different names in different places, sometimes."

"That seems to have been the case with Pas, Echidna, and the rest. They had other names on the Short Sun Whorl, and those persons--Typhon, his family, and his friends--continued to exist there after they had entered the Whorl. Whorl."

"Go on, please."

"If you wish. I should say that I heard that Pas had been called Typhon from a man named Auk, someone I knew long ago, who said he had been told by Scylla. He was a bad man, a bully and a thug, yet he was deeply religious in his way--I very much doubt that he would have made such a thing up. It was not his sort of lie, if you know what I mean.

"When Pas--let us call him Pas, since we're accustomed to that name--decided to send mortals to the whorls beyond the Short Sun Whorl, he used no less than three separate means. Some he sent as sleepers, unconscious in tubes of thin gla.s.s until they were awakened by the breaking of the gla.s.s. Some--your ancestors, Hound, and mine--he simply set down here inside the Whorl. Whorl. And some he sent as frozen embryos, the products of carefully controlled matings in his workshops." And some he sent as frozen embryos, the products of carefully controlled matings in his workshops."

"Why so many ways?" Hound asked.

"I can only guess, and you could guess every bit as well. Do so now."

Hound looked thoughtful. "Well, he wanted us to colonize the new whorls, didn't he? So he put people in here to do it."

"Waking or sleeping?"

"Both, I guess. He must have been afraid we'd fight in here, and kill everyone off. Or get some disease that would wipe us out. No, that can't be right, because then there would have been no one to wake up the sleepers."

"Mainframe could have done that, I believe."

"I've never met a sleeper, Horn. I've never even seen one. I take it that you have. Are they very different from us?"

"In appearance? No, not at all. They were made to forget certain things and given falsified memories in their place, but one only occasionally catches a hint of it."

"You're saying that everybody could have been asleep? All of us? No houses and no people, just trees and animals?"

"No, I'm saying Pas must have considered that and rejected it as unworkable, or at least undesirable."

Hound nodded. "He'd have had n.o.body to wors.h.i.+p him."

"That's true, though I'm not sure it was a consideration. If it didn't seem so impious, I'd say now that the Chapter and the manteions seem almost to have been a joke, that Pas made himself our chief G.o.d largely because it amused him. Do you know the story about the farmer who complained all his life about getting too much rain or too little, about the soil and the winds and so on? It's no more impious than my instructor's joke about Thyone's son; and like that one, it has wisdom."

Hound shook his head.

"The farmer died and went to Mainframe, and was soon called to the magnificent chamber in which Pas holds court. Pas said to him, 'I understand you feel that I botched certain aspects of the job when I built the Whorl Whorl'; and the farmer admitted it was so, saying, 'Well, sir, pretty often I thought I could have made it better.' To which Pas replied, 'Yes, that's what I wanted you to do.' "

"That hits very close to home." Hound smiled.

"It does. It also explains many things, once you understand that Pas himself was brought into being by the Outsider. Pas wished to mold and guide us; and for him to do it, we had to be awake. As our chief G.o.d, he was ideally situated, though the false memories given the sleepers may have been intended to serve the same purpose. Like the farmer we complain of storms, but Pas must have foreseen that there would be storms--and things far worse--on the new whorls. How could we cope with them if we never saw snow, or a wind storm?"

"I still don't understand about the embryos. You said that you . . . that Calde Silk was one of the people grown from them, and this Mucor was, too."

"To colonize the new whorls--speaking of storms and such, there's a wind rising outside. Have you noticed?"

"I've been listening to it. I won't bring my donkeys in unless there's an actual storm. They can't graze in here."

"To colonize Blue and Green, Pas had to make certain that some human beings reached them alive. He pretty well a.s.sured that by dividing us into the two groups--ourselves, and the sleepers. If the sleep process, whatever it was, couldn't keep them alive for three hundred years, we would supply colonists. If we were wiped out by some disease as you suggested, the sleepers could be roused by Mainframe, or by the chems that Pas put in this whorl as well.

"But though our surviving until we reached Blue and Green was necessary, it was not sufficient. We had to survive on those whorls afterward. Blue is a hospitable one; we are our own worst enemies there. Green is much harsher. It's where the inhumi breed, and there are diseases and dangerous animals. Pas felt we ordinary people might not be able to deal with those, so he took steps to see that we'd have some extraordinary ones as well, people like Mucor, who can send out her spirit without dying; and people like Silk, who was the sort of leader we weave legends about but seldom get--or deserve, I might add."

Hound stared at the fire before he spoke. "You said most of those embryos had been stolen or destroyed."

"I'm afraid so."

"Does that mean we'll fail?"

"Perhaps. On Green at least."

"I'd like to go. Am I crazy? I've never felt this way way before."

"The crossing is very dangerous--I don't deny that. But you and Tansy might make a better life for yourselves and your children on Blue than you will ever have here, and you would be doing the will of Pas."

"Not Blue," Hound said. "I want to go to Green. I want to go where I'm needed, Horn."

Before he replied, he stretched out on the floor, his hands behind his head. "You're a brave man."

"I'm not! I know I'm not. But--but . . ."

"You are."

"But I'm steady, and I've got a good head on my shoulders, and I don't drink or get so angry I ruin everything. I'm no troublemaker. I can work with my hands, and I drive a hard bargain. They could use me. I know they could!"

"I'm sure you're right."

"I'm going to have think about it. I'm going to have to think for a long time, probably until after the baby's born."

Silence descended on the ruined villa, a silence broken only by the moaning of the wind outside, the crackling of the fire, and the soft breathing of the man stretched on the floor.

When some time had pa.s.sed, Hound rose, took a burning stick from the fire, and went outside again. When he returned, he got a blanket and spread it over the man on the floor, who opened his eyes and murmured, "Thank you."

"You're awake," Hound said.

"I fear I am."

"You said some things tonight that sounded pretty, I don't know, not religious. You admitted it yourself."

"The joke about the dead farmer."

"Yes, and other things too. I've got a question, Horn. It's going to sound bad, or anyhow I'm afraid it will. And it may be pretty silly."

"You're afraid I may not take you seriously."

Hound sat down. "I guess so."

"If you ask it seriously, I'll answer seriously, or try to. What is it?"

"You said that there are two G.o.ds we don't know. I mean, we know that there are G.o.ds like that, but we don't know their names. You said too that the Outsider had made Pas?"

"Yes. Both G.o.ds and Men--the human race--were created by the Outsider. It's explicitly stated in the Chrasmologic Writings, and I'm confident that it's true."

"The other nameless G.o.d, is that Thyone's son? Does anybody know who his father was?"

"Pas, supposedly. It's said that Thyone is one of his inferior concubines, less favored than Kypris."

"Then what I was going to ask about is pretty silly. I was going to ask if it isn't possible they're really the same."

The man lying on the floor said nothing.

"Since we don't know the names. That the Outsider is Thyone's son, the wine G.o.d, too."

"That isn't silly at all; it's extremely perceptive. You've amazed me twice within a few minutes. Yes, it's possible and it may well be true. I don't know."

"But if the Outsider made Pas, and Pas is the wine G.o.d's father . . . ?"

"Have you ever seen Thyone, Hound? In a Sacred Window or anyplace else?"

Hound shook his head.

"Neither have I. What about Pas? I have not."

"No."

"Then what do either of us know about the parentage of the wine G.o.d, and what such parentage may entail? What limitations the Outsider may be subject to or free from? I told you about Auk--how he was told by Scylla that Pas's name had been Typhon on the Short Sun Whorl."

Hound nodded.

"Scylla was in possession of a woman named Chenille when that conversation took place; Chenille told my wife a good deal about it not long afterward. Do you think that because Scylla was possessing Chenille she was absent from Mainframe? Or that Scylla can't have been in another woman--or a man, for that matter--at the same time?"

"I guess she could have if she wanted to."

"Certainly she could." The man who had been lying on the floor sat up. "I was going to tell you what happened to me, and to Pig, after I left you. Then I decided that it might better be left unsaid--that I'd let Pig tell both of us, if he would, and let it pa.s.s in silence if he wouldn't. Now I've changed my mind again. You need to hear this. You and your wife welcomed us, and I would be neglecting a duty if I withheld it."

"Does this have something to do with the G.o.ds?" Hound asked.

"I think it may. We went outside, as you know, and I spoke with Mucor, and asked her to talk to Pig when I was finished."

Hounded nodded.

"After that, I couldn't decide whether to come back here or visit the room that had been Hyacinth's."

"Silk's wife's?"

"Yes. She had lived in this house for a time. She was a very beautiful woman, the most beautiful I'd ever seen. I've seen one other since who might rival her, despite being maimed."

"Go on, Horn."

"Recalling her, and how beautiful I'd thought her then, I felt a sort of itch to stand in the suite she'd occupied, and touch the walls. She'd split her stone windowsill with an azoth. I wanted to feel that windowsill, if it was still there, and stand for a time at the very window Silk had jumped from. I told myself over and over how foolish it was, and that I should return here. Have I told you Oreb had left?"

Hound shook his head.

"He had. Mucor frightens him, as I should have remembered. It was utterly dark, of course, and I had to feel my way with my stick. It must have taken me five minutes to cross Mucor's room and find the door. I decided I'd try to return here to you, and if I blundered on a set of rooms that fit Silk's description of Hyacinth's, so much the better."

"That sounds sensible."

"Thank you. It may have been sensible, but it did me little good. Soon after I had left Mucor's room, I was completely lost, and bitterly regretted having left my lantern behind with you. I stumbled around helplessly for a long while. I was looking for stairs and tried to stay out of the rooms--after I had explored a few--because I felt certain one would enter the staircases from a corridor."

"I understand."

"I blundered into a suite just the same, and for a minute or two I didn't know I had done it. When I realized what must have happened, I found a door and went through, thinking I'd be in the corridor again; but it was another room, bigger than the first and, as well as I could judge, almost triangular. I don't know whether the geometers have a name for that shape, a wide triangle with two corners cut off. I felt certain then--absolutely certain, Hound--that I was standing in what had been Hyacinth's dressing chamber. I had never been there before in my life, though I was in this house long ago as I told you; but I have thought of it a thousand times, and I knew with absolute certainty that I was standing there. You're free to doubt me if you wish--I don't blame you."

"Go on," Hound said again. "What did you do?"

"Well, I thought that since I was there I might as well find the bedroom, which is where the window Silk had jumped through had been, and touch that windowsill and stand at the window and so on. I was tapping around with my stick, looking for the door, when I heard the sound of a tremendous blow, a blow and the sound of wood splintering. I can't begin to convey to you how frightening I found that, alone in the dark."

Hound raised his eyebrows. "Do you know, I think I may have heard it too. There was a loud bang way off in the house someplace, a long time before you came back. I thought Pig might have fallen down."

"Perhaps that was what it was, though I doubt it. My guess--and it is merely a guess, nothing more--is that Pig struck a wall, either with the sword that he uses in this darkness as I use my stick, or with his fist."

"That he struck the wall?"

"Yes. I doubt that there's furniture left in this house, or that there has been for many years. Blood would have had fine furniture, from what I've heard of him, and I feel sure it must have been carted away long ago. We pile up treasures, Hound, and believe in our folly that we are piling them up for ourselves, when in fact we are acc.u.mulating them for those who will come after us. May I confide something personal and rather disreputable concerning my own family?"

"Absolutely, if you want to."

"My oldest son was often difficult. He felt he was far wiser than Nettle and I--that we should do as he said, and be grateful that he condescended to rule and advise us."

Hound smiled. "I gave my own father some headaches, too."

"Once when he was angry at Nettle, he punched a cabinet I made so violently that he broke the door, as well as hurting his hand pretty badly. Have I clarified the sound you heard?"

Hound scratched his head. "What made Pig so angry?"

"The tapping of my stick, I a.s.sume."

"He was in Calde Silk's wife's bedroom?"

"And thought that he was about to be interrupted. It's all guesswork; but yes, I believe that's what must have happened."

"I understand now why you didn't want to send Oreb to look in on him." Hound sc.r.a.ped together the twigs and bark that were all that remained of their firewood and added them to the fire. "What I don't understand is what Pig was doing there."

"In an empty room in this dark, empty house? It seems to me that there's very little he could have been doing, other than what I planned to do myself--listen to the silence, touch the walls and the windowsill, and try to guess where the bed and the rest of Hyacinth's furnis.h.i.+ngs had been."