"I don"t know. Music, perhaps, and walking a long way. In sunshine at first but later through the dark."
"That walking was while you were with me," I said. "Don"t you recall anything else?"
"Flying through the dark. Yes, I was with you, and we came to a place where the sun hung just above our heads. There was a light before us, but when I stepped into it, it became a kind of darkness." I nodded. "You weren"t wholly rational, you see. On a warm day it can seem that the sun"s just overhead, and when it is down behind the mountains it seems the light becomes darkness. Do you recall your name?"
At that he thought for several moments, and at last smiled ruefully.
"I lost it somewhere along the way. That"s what the jaguar said, who had promised to guide the goat."
The burly man with the shaven head had come back without either of us noticing. He helped me out of the pool and gave me a towel with which to dry myself, a robe to wear, and a canvas sack containing my possessions, which now smelled strongly of the smoke of fumigation. A day earlier it would have tormented me nearly to frenzy to have the Claw out of my possession for an instant. That night I had hardly realized it was gone until it was returned to me, and I did not verify that it had indeed been returned until I lay on one of the cots under a veil of netting. The Claw shone in my hand then, softly as the moon; and it was shaped as the moon sometimes is. I smiled to think that its flooding light of pale green is the reflection of the sun.
On the first night I slept in Saltus, I had awakened thinking I was in the apprentices" dormitory in our tower. Now I had the same experience in reverse: I slept and found in sleep that the shadowy lazaret with its silent figures and moving lamps had been no more than a hallucination of the day.
I sat up and looked around. I felt well-better, in fact, than I had ever felt before; but I was warm. I seemed to glow from within. Roche was sleeping on his side, his red hair tousled and his mouth slightly open, his face relaxed and boyish without the energy of his mind behind it. Through the port I could see snow drifts in the Old Court, new-fallen snow that showed no tracks of men or their animals; but it occurred to me that in the necropolis there would be hundreds of footprints already as the small creatures who found shelter there, the pets and the playmates of the dead, came out to search for food and to disport themselves in the new landscape Nature had bestowed on them. I dressed quickly and silently, holding my finger to my own lips when one of the other apprentices stirred, and hurried down the steep stair that wound through the center of the tower.
It seemed longer than usual, and I found I had difficulty in going from step to step. We are always aware of the hindrance of gravity when we climb stairs, but we take for granted the a.s.sistance it gives us when we descend. Now that a.s.sistance had been withdrawn, or nearly so. I had to force each foot down, but do it in a way that prevented it from sending me shooting up when it struck the step, as it would have if I had stamped. In that uncanny way we know things in dreams, I understood that all the towers of the Citadel had risen at last and were on their voyage beyond the circle of Dis. I felt happy in the knowledge, but I still desired to go into the necropolis and track the coatis and foxes. I was hurrying down as fast as I could when I heard a groan. The stairway no longer descended as it should but led into a cabin, just as the stairs in Baldanders"s castle had stretched down the walls of its chambers.
This was Master Malrubius"s sickroom. Masters are ent.i.tled to s.p.a.cious quarters; still, this was larger by far than the actual cabin had been. There were two ports just as I remembered, but they were enormous-the eyes of Mount Typhon. Master Malrubius"s bed was very large, yet it seemed lost in the immensity of the room. Two figures bent over him. Though their clothing was dark, it struck me that it was not the fuligin of the guild. I went to them, and when I was so near I could hear the sick man"s labored breathing, they straightened up and turned to look at me. They were the c.u.maean and her acolyte Merryn, the witches we had met atop the tomb in the ruined stone town.
"Ah, sister, you have come at last," Merryn said. As she spoke, I realized that I was not, as I had thought, the apprentice Severian. I was Thecla as she had been when she was his height, which is to say at about the age of thirteen or fourteen. I felt an intense embarra.s.sment-not because of my girl"s body or because I was wearing masculine clothes (which indeed I rather enjoyed) but because I had been unaware of it previously. I also felt that Merryn"s words had been an act of magic-that both Severian and I had been present before, and that she had by some means driven him into the background. The c.u.maean kissed me on the forehead, and when the kiss was over wiped blood from her lips. Although she did not speak, I knew this was a signal that I had in some sense become the soldier too.
"When we sleep," Merryn told me, "we move from temporality to eternity."
"When we wake," the c.u.maean whispered, "we lose the facility to see beyond the present moment."
"She never wakes," Merryn boasted. Master Malrubius stirred and groaned, and the c.u.maean took a carafe of water from the table by his bed and poured a little into a tumbler. When she set down the carafe again, something living stirred in it. I, for some reason, thought it the undine; I drew back, but it was Hethor, no higher than my hand, his gray, stubbled face pressed against the gla.s.s. I heard his voice as one might hear the squeaking of mice: "Sometimes driven aground by the photon storms, by the swirling of the galaxies, clockwise and counterclockwise, ticking with light down the dark sea-corridors lined with our silver sails, our demonhaunted mirror sails, our hundred-league masts as fine as threads, as fine as silver needles sewing the threads of starlight, embroidering the stars on black velvet, wet with the winds of Time that goes racing by. The bone in her teeth! The spume, the flying spume of Time, cast up on these beaches where old sailors can no longer keep their bones from the restless, the unwearied universe. Where has she gone? My lady, the mate of my soul? Gone across the running tides of Aquarius, of Pisces, of Aries. Gone. Gone in her little boat, her nipples pressed against the black velvet lid, gone, sailing away forever from the star-washed sh.o.r.es, the dry shoals of the habitable worlds. She is her own ship, she is the figurehead of her own ship, and the captain. Bosun, Bosun, put out the launch! Sailmaker, make a sail! She has left us behind. We have left her behind. She is in the past we never knew and the future we will not see. Put out more sail, Captain, for the universe is leaving us behind..." There was a bell on the table beside the carafe. Merryn rang it as though to overpower Hethor"s voice, and when Master Malrubius had moistened his lips with the tumbler, she took it from the c.u.maean, flung what remained of its water on the floor, and inverted it over the neck of the carafe. Hethor was silenced, but the water spread over the floor, bubbling as though fed by a hidden spring. It was icy cold. I thought vaguely that my governess would be angry because my shoes were wet.
A maid was coming in answer to the ring-Thecla"s maid, whose flayed leg I had inspected the day after I had saved Vodalus. She was younger, as young as she must have been when Thecla was actually a girl, but her leg had been flayed already and ran with blood. "I am so sorry," I said. "I am so sorry, Hunna. I didn"t do it- it was Master Gurloes, and some journeymen." Master Malrubius sat up in bed, and for the first time I observed that his bed was in actuality a woman"s hand, with fingers longer than my arm and nails like talons. "You"re well!" he said, as though I were the one who had been dying. "Or nearly well, at least." The fingers of the hand began to close upon him, but he leaped from the bed and into water that was now knee high to stand beside me. A dog-my old dog Triskele-had apparently been hiding beneath the bed, or perhaps only lying on the farther side of it, out of sight. Now he came to us, splashing the water with his single forepaw as he drove his broad chest through it and barking joyously. Master Malrubius took my right hand and the c.u.maean my left; together they led me to one of the great eyes of the mountain. I saw the view I had seen when Typhon had led me there: The world rolled out like a carpet and visible in its entirety. This time it was more magnificent by far. The sun was behind us; its beams seemed to have multiplied their strength. Shadows were alchemized to gold, and every green thing grew darker and stronger as I looked. I could see the grain ripening in the fields and even the myriad fish of the sea doubling and redoubling with the increase of the tiny surface plants that sustained them. Water from the room behind us poured from the eye and, catching the light, fell in a rainbow. Then I woke.
While I slept, someone had wrapped me in sheets packed with snow. (I learned later that it was brought down from the mountaintops by sure-footed sumpters.) Shivering, I longed to return to my dream, though I was already half-aware of the immense distance that separated us. The bitter taste of medicine was in my mouth, the stretched canvas felt as hard as a floor beneath me, and scarlet-clad Pelerines with lamps moved to and fro, tending men and women who groaned in the dark.
CHAPTER FIVE - THE LAZARET.
I do not believe I really slept again that night, though I may have dozed. When dawn came, the snow had melted. Two Pelerines took the sheets away, gave me a towel with which to dry myself, and brought dry bedding. I wanted to give the Claw to them then-my possessions were in the bag under my cot-but the moment seemed inappropriate. I lay down instead, and now that it was daylight, slept. I woke again about noon. The lazaret was as quiet as it ever became; somewhere far off two men were talking and another cried out, but their voices only emphasized the stillness. I sat up and looked around, hoping to see the soldier. On my right lay a man whose close-cropped scalp made me think at first that he was one of the slaves of the Pelerines. I called to him, but when he turned his head to look at me, I saw I had been mistaken.
His eyes were emptier than any human eyes I had ever seen, and they seemed to watch spirits invisible to me. "Glory to the Group of Seventeen," he said.
"Good morning. Do you know anything about the way this place is run?"
A shadow appeared to cross his face, and I sensed that my question had somehow made him suspicious. He answered, "All endeavors are conducted well or ill precisely in so far as they conform to Correct Thought."
"Another man was brought in at the same time I was. I"d like to talk to him. He"s a friend of mine, more or less."
"Those who do the will of the populace are friends, though we have never spoken to them. Those who do not do the will of the populace are enemies, though we learned together as children." The man on my left called, "You won"t get anything out of him. He"s a prisoner."
I turned to look at him. His face, though wasted nearly to a skull, retained something of humor. His stiff, black hair looked as though it had not seen a comb for months.
"He talks like that all the time. Never any other way.Hey, you!
We"re going to beat you!"
The other answered, "For the Armies of the Populace, defeat is the springboard of victory, and victory the ladder to further victory."
"He makes a lot more sense than most of them, though," the man on my left told me.
"You say he"s a prisoner. What did he do?"
"Do? Why, he didn"t die."
"I"m afraid I don"t understand. Was he selected for some kind of suicide mission?"
The patient beyond the man on my left sat up-a young woman with a thin but lovely face. "They all are," she said. "At least, they can"t go home until the war is won, and they know, really, that it will never be won."
"External battles are already won when internal struggles are conducted with Correct Thought."
I said, "He"s an Ascian, then. That"s what you meant. I"ve never seen one before."
"Most of them die," the black-haired man told me. "That"s what I said."
"I didn"t know they spoke our language."
"They don"t. Some officers who came here to talk to him said they thought he"d been an interpreter. Probably he questioned our soldiers when they were captured. Only he did something wrong and had to go back to the ranks."
The young woman said, "I don"t think he"s really mad. Most of them are. What"s your name?"
"I"m sorry, I should have introduced myself. I"m Severian." I almost added that I was a lictor, but I knew neither of them would talk to me if I told them that.
"I"m Foila, and this is Melito. I was of the Blue Huzzars, he a hoplite."
"You shouldn"t talk nonsense," Melito growled. "I am a hoplite. You are a huzzar."
I thought he appeared much nearer death than she.
"I"m only hoping we will be discharged when we"re well enough to leave this place," Foila said.
"And what will we do then? Milk somebody else"s cow and herd his pigs?" Melito turned to me. "Don"t let her talk deceive you-we were volunteers, both of us. I was about to be promoted when I was wounded, and when I"m promoted I"ll be able to support a wife." Foila called, "I haven"t promised to marry you!" Several beds away, someone said loudly, "Take her so she"ll shut up about it!"
At that, the patient in the bed beyond Foila"s sat up. "She will marry me." He was big, fair skinned, and pale haired, and he spoke with the deliberation characteristic of the icy isles of the south. "I am Hallvard."
Surprising me, the Ascian prisoner announced, "United, men and women are stronger; but a brave woman desires children, and not husbands."
Foila said, "They fight even when they"re pregnant-I"ve seen them dead on the battlefield."
"The roots of the tree are the populace. The leaves fall, but the tree remains."
I asked Melito and Foila if the Ascian were composing his remarks or quoting some literary source with which I was unfamiliar.
"Just making it up, you mean?" Foila asked. "No. They never do that. Everything they say has to be taken from an approved text. Some of them don"t talk at all. The rest have thousands-I suppose actually tens or hundreds of thousands-of those tags memorized."
"That"s impossible," I said.
Melito shrugged. He had managed to prop himself up on one elbow.
"They do it, though. At least, that"s what everybody says. Foila knows more about them than I do."
Foila nodded. "In the light cavalry, we do a lot of scouting, and sometimes we"re sent out specifically to take prisoners. You don"t learn anything from talking to most of them, but just the same the General Staff can tell a good deal from their equipment and physical condition. On the northern continent, where they come from, only the smallest children ever talk the way we do." I thought of Master Gurloes conducting the business of our guild.
"How could they possibly say something like "Take three apprentices and unload that wagon"?"
"They wouldn"tsaythat at all-just grab people by the shoulder, point to the wagon, and give them a push. If they went to work, fine. If they didn"t, then the leader would quote something about the need for labor to ensure victory, with several witnesses present. If the person he was talking to still wouldn"t work after that, then he would have him killed-probably just by pointing to him and quoting something about the need to eliminate the enemies of the populace."
The Ascian said, "The cries of the children are the cries of victory. Still, victory must learn wisdom."
Foila interpreted for him. "That means that although children are needed, what they say is meaningless. Most Ascians would consider us mute even if we learned their tongue, because groups of words that are not approved texts are without meaning for them. If they admitted-even to themselves-that such talk meant something, then it would be possible for them to hear disloyal remarks, and even to make them. That would be extremely dangerous. As long as they only understand and quote approved texts, no one can accuse them."
I turned my head to look at the Ascian. It was clear that he had been listening attentively, but I could not be certain of what his expression meant beyond that. "Those who write the approved texts," I told him, "cannot themselves be quoting from approved texts as they write. Therefore even an approved text may contain elements of disloyalty."
"Correct Thought is the thought of the populace. The populace cannot betray the populace or the Group of Seventeen." Foila called, "Don"t insult the populace or the Group of Seventeen. He might try to kill himself. Sometimes they do."
"Will he ever be normal?"
"I"ve heard that some of them eventually come to talk more or less the way we do, if that"s what you mean."
I could think of nothing to say to that, and for some time we were quiet. There are long periods of silence, I found, in such a place, where almost everyone is ill. We knew that we had watch after watch to occupy; that if we did not say what we wished to say that afternoon there would be another opportunity that evening and another again the next morning. Indeed, anyone who talked as healthy people normally do-after a meal, for example-would have been intolerable.
But what had been said had set me thinking of the north, and I found I knew next to nothing about it. When I had been a boy, scrubbing floors and running errands in the Citadel, the war itself had seemed almost infinitely remote. I knew that most of the matrosses who manned the major batteries had taken part in it, but I knew it just as I knew that the sunlight that fell upon my hand had been to the sun. I would be a torturer, and as a torturer 1 would have no reason to enter the army and no reason to fear that I would be impressed into it. I never expected to see the war at the gates of Nessus (in fact, those gates themselves were hardly more than legends to me), and I never expected to leave the city, or even to leave that quarter of the city that held the Citadel. The north, Ascia, was then inconceivably remote, a place as distant as the most distant galaxy, since both were forever out of reach. Mentally, I confused it with the dying belt of tropical vegetation that lay between our own land and theirs, although I would have distinguished the two without difficulty if Master Palaemon had asked me to in the cla.s.sroom.
But of Ascia itself I had no idea. I did not know if it had great cities or none. I did not know if it was mountainous like the northern and eastern parts of our Commonwealth or as level as our pampas. I did have the impression (though I could not be sure it was correct) that it was a single land ma.s.s, and not a chain of islands like our south; and most distinct of all, I had the impression of an innumerable people-our Ascian"s populace-an inexhaustible swarm that almost became a creature in itself, as a colony of ants does. To think of those millions upon millions without speech, or confined to parroting proverbial phrases that must surely have long ago lost most of their meaning, was nearly more than the mind could bear. Speaking almost to myself, I said, "It must surely be a trick, or a lie, or a mistake. Such a nation could not exist." And the Ascian, his voice no louder than my own had been, and perhaps even softer, answered, "How shall the state be most vigorous? It shall be most vigorous when it is without conflict. How shall it be without conflict? When it is without disagreement. How shall disagreement be banished? By banishing the four causes of disagreement: lies, foolish talk, boastful talk, and talk which serves only to incite quarrels. How shall the four causes be banished? By speaking only Correct Thought. Then shall the state be without disagreement. Being without disagreement it shall be without conflict. Being without conflict it shall be vigorous, strong, and secure."
I had been answered, and doubly.
CHAPTER SIX - MILES, FOILA, MELITO, AND HALLVARD.
That evening I fell prey to a fear I had been trying to put from my mind for some time. Although I had seen nothing of the monsters Hethor had brought from beyond the stars since little Severian and I had escaped from the village of the sorcerers, I had not forgotten that he was searching for me. While I traveled in the wilderness or upon the waters of Lake Diuturna, I had not been much afraid he would overtake me. Now I was traveling no longer, and I could feel the weakness in my limbs, for despite the food I had eaten I was weaker than I had ever been while starving in the mountains. Then too, I feared Agia almost more than Hethor"s notules, his salamanders and slugs. I knew her courage, her cleverness, and her malice. Any one of the scarlet-clad priestesses of the Pelerines moving between the cots might easily be she, with a poisoned stiletto beneath her gown. I slept badly that night; but though I dreamed much, my dreams were indistinct, and I will not attempt to relate them here.
I woke feeling less than rested. My fever, of which I had hardly been conscious when I came to the lazaret, and which had seemed to subside on the day previous, returned. I felt its heat in every limb -it seemed to me that I must glow, that the very glaciers of the south would melt if I came among them. I took out the Claw and clasped it to me, and for a time even held it in my mouth. My fever sank again, but left me weak and dizzied.
That morning the soldier came to see me. He wore a white gown the Pelerines had given him in place of his armor, but he appeared wholly recovered, and told me he hoped to leave the next day. I said I would like to introduce him to the acquaintances I had made in this part of the lazaret and asked if he now recalled his name. He shook his head. "I can remember very little. I am hoping that when I go among the units of the army I will find someone there who knows me."
I introduced him anyway, calling him Miles since I could think of nothing better. I did not know the Ascian"s name either and discovered that no one did, not even Foila. When we asked him what it was, he only said, "I am Loyal to the Group of Seventeen." For a time Foila, Melito, the soldier, and I chatted among ourselves. Melito seemed to like him very well, though perhaps only because of the similarity of the name I had given him to his own. Then the soldier helped me into a sitting posture, lowered his voice, and said, "Now I have to talk to you privately. As I said, I think I will leave here in the morning. From what I have seen of you, you won"t be getting out for several days-maybe not for a couple of weeks. I may never see you again."
"Let us hope that isn"t so."
"I hope not either. But if I can find my legion, I may be killed by the time you"re well. And if I can"t find it, I"ll probably go into another to keep from being arrested as a deserter." He paused. I smiled. "And I may die here, of the fever. You didn"t want to say that. Do I look as bad as poor Melito?"
He shook his head. "Not as bad, no. I think you"ll make it-"
"That"s what the thrush sang while the lynx chased the hare around the bay tree."
Now it was his turn to smile. "You"re right; I was about to say that."
"Is it a common expression in that part of the Commonwealth where you were brought up?"
The smile vanished. "I don"t know. I can"t remember where my home is, and that"s part of the reason I have to talk to you now. I remember walking down a road with you at night-that"s the only thing Idoremember, before I came here. Where did you find me?"
"In a wood, I suppose about five or ten leagues south of here. Do you recall what I told you about the Claw as we walked?" He shook his head. "I think I remember you mentioning such a thing, but not what you said."
"What do you remember? Tell me all of it, and I"ll tell you what I know, and what I can guess."
"Walking with you. A lot of darkness... I fell, or maybe flew through it. Seeing my own face, multiplied again and again. A girl with hair like red gold and enormous eyes."
"A beautiful woman?"
He nodded. "The most beautiful in the world." Raising my voice, I asked if anyone had a mirror he would lend us for a moment. Foila produced one from the possessions beneath her cot, and I held it up for the soldier. "Is this the face?" He hesitated. "I think so."
"Blue eyes?"
"... I can"t be sure."
I returned the mirror to Foila. "I will tell you again what I told you on the road, and I wish we had a more private place in which to do it. Some time ago a talisman came into my hands. It came innocently, but it does not belong to me, and it is very valuable- sometimes, not always, but sometimes-it has the power to heal the sick, and even to revive the dead. Two days ago, as I was traveling north, I came across the body of a dead soldier. It was in a forest, away from the road. He had been dead less than a day; I would say it"s likely he had died sometime during the preceding night. I was very hungry then, and I cut his pack straps and ate most of the food he had been carrying with him. Then I felt guilty about doing that and got out the talisman and tried to restore him to life. It has failed often before, and this time I thought for a while it was going to fail again. It didn"t, although he returned to life slowly and for a long time did not seem to know where he was or what was happening to him."
"And I was that soldier?"
I nodded, looking into his honest blue eyes.
"May I see the talisman?"
I took it out and held it in the palm of my hand. He took it from me, examined both sides carefully, and tested the point against the ball of his finger. "It doesn"t look magical," he said.
"I"m not suremagicalis the right term for it. I"ve met magicians, and nothing they did reminded me of this or the way it acts. Sometimes it glows with light-it"s very faint now, and I doubt if you can see it."
"I can"t. There doesn"t seem to be any writing on it."
"You mean spells or prayers. No, I"ve never noticed any, and I"ve carried it a long way. I don"t really know anything about it except that it acts at times; but I think it is probably the kind of thing spells and prayers are made with, and not the kind that is made with them."
"You said it didn"t belong to you."