Nightside the Long Sun

“Thank you.” Silk shut the powder box and returned it to the dressing table.

“Does the powder possess cleansing properties? I was unaware of it.”

Silk shook his head. “Not that I know of. I’m only masking these, so visitors won’t be unsettled.”

“Very shrewd, sir.”

Silk shrugged. “If I could think of something better, I’d do it. When I came in, you said that you weren’t a god. I knew you weren’t. We had a glass in the—in a palaestra I attended.”

“Would you like to speak to someone there, sir?”

“Not now. But I was privileged to use that glass once, and it struck me then—I suppose it struck all of us, and I remember some of us talking about it one evening—that the glass looked a great deal like a Sacred Window. Except for its size, of course; all Sacred Windows are eight cubits by eight. Are you familiar with them?”

“No, sir.”

Silk righted the stool and sat down. “There’s another difference, too. Sacred Windows don’t have monitors.”

“That is unfortunate, sir.”

“Indeed.” Silk stroked his cheek with two fingers. “I should tell you, then, that the immortal gods appear at times in the Sacred Windows.”

“Ah!”

“Yes, my son. I’ve never seen one, and most people—those who aren’t augurs or sibyls, particularly—can’t see the gods at all. Although they frequently hear the voice of the god, they see only a swirl of color.”

The monitor’s face flushed brick red. “Like this, sir?”

“No. Not at all like that. I was going to say that as I understand it, those people who can see the gods first see the swirling colors as well. When the theophany begins, the colors are seen. Then the god appears. And then the colors reappear briefly as the god vanishes. All this was set down in circumstantial detail by the Devoted Caddis, nearly two centuries ago. In the course of a long life, he’d witnessed the theophanies of Echidna, Tartaros, and Scylla, and finally that of Pas. He called the colors he’d seen the Holy Hues.”

“Fascinating, sir. I fear, however, that it has little to do with me. May I show you what it is I do, sir? What I do most frequently, I should say. Observe.”

The monitor’s floating face vanished, replaced by the image of a remarkably handsome man in black. Although the tunic of the man in the glass was torn and white gauze showed beneath it, Silk did not recognize this man as himself until he moved and saw the image move with him.

“Is that…?” He leaned closer. “No. But…”

“Thank you, sir,” his image said, and bowed. “Only a first attempt, although I think it a rather successful one. I shall do better next time.”

“Take it away, please. I am already too much given to vanity, believe me.”

“As you wish, sir,” his image replied. “I intended no disrespect. I merely desired to demonstrate to you the way in which I most frequently serve my mistress. Would you care to see her in place of yourself? I can easily display an old likeness.”

Silk shook his head. “An old unlikeness, you mean. Please return to your normal appearance.”

“As you wish, sir.” In the glass, Silk’s face lost its blue eyes and brown cheeks, its neck and shoulders vanished, and its features became flatter and coarser.

“We were speaking of the gods. No doubt I told you a good deal that you already knew.”

“No, sir. I know very little about gods, sir. I would advise you to consult an augur.”

“Then let’s talk about monitors, my son. You must know more than most about monitors. You’re a monitor yourself.”

“My task is my joy, sir.”

“We’re fortunate, then, both of us. When I was at—in the house of a certain man I know, a man who has a glass like this one, he clapped his hands to summon the monitor. Is that the usual method?”

“Clapping the hands or tapping on the glass, sir. All of us much prefer the former, if I may be excused for saying it.”

“I see.” Silk nodded to himself. “Aren’t there any other methods?”

“We actually appear in response to any loud sound, sir, to determine whether there is something amiss. Should a fire be in progress, for example, I would notify my master or his steward, and warn his guests.”

“And from time to time,” Silk said, “you must look into this room although no one has called you, even when there has been no loud sound. Isn’t that so?”

“No, sir.”

“You don’t simply look in to make certain everything’s all right?”

“No, sir. My mistress would consider that an invasion of her privacy, I’m sure.”

“When I entered this room,” Silk continued, “I did not make any sound that could be called loud—or at least none that I’m aware of. Certainly I didn’t clap my hands or tap on this glass; yet you appeared. There was a swirl of color, then your face appeared in the glass. Shortly afterward you told me you weren’t a god.”

“You closed the door, sir.”

“Very gently,” Silk said. “I didn’t want to disturb your mistress.

“Most considerate, sir.”

“Yet the sound of my shutting that door summoned you? I would think that in that case almost any sound would do, however slight.”

“I really cannot say what summoned me, sir.”

“That’s a suggestive choice of words, my son.”