Nightside the Long Sun

But in point of fact he was a prisoner no longer. He had been freed, though no fuss had been made about it, when Blood and Musk had taken him to this floater. Now, whether he liked it or not, he was a sort of factor of Blood’s—an agent through whom Blood would obtain money. Silk weighed the term in his mind and decided it was the correct one. He had given himself wholly to the gods, with a holy oath; now his allegiance was inescapably divided, whether he liked it or not. He would give the twenty-six thousand cards he got (if indeed he got them) not to the gods but to Blood, though he would be acting in the gods’ behalf. Certainly he would be Blood’s factor in the eyes of the Chapter and the whorl, should either the Chapter or the whorl learn of whatever he would do.

Blood had made him his factor, creating this situation for his own profit. (Thoughtfully, Silk stroked his cheek, feeling the roughness of his newly grown beard again.) For Blood’s own personal profit, as was only to be expected; but their relationship bound them both, like all relationships. He was Blood’s factor whether he liked it or not, but also Blood’s factor whether Blood liked it or not. He had made good use of the relationship already when he had demanded the return of Hyacinth’s needler. Indeed, Blood had acknowledged it still earlier when he had told Doctor Crane to look in at the manteion.

Further use might be made of it as well.

A factor, but not a trusted factor to be sure; Blood might conceivably plan to kill him once he had turned over the entire twenty-six thousand, if he could find no further use for him; thus it would be wise to employ this temporary relationship to gain some sort of hold on Blood before it was ended. That was something more to keep in mind.

And the driver, who no doubt knew so many things that might be of value, did not know that.

“Driver,” Silk called, “are you familiar with a certain house on Lamp Street? It’s yellow, I believe, and there’s a pastry cook’s across the street.”

“Sure am, Patera.”

“Could we go past it, please? I don’t think it will be very much out of our way.”

The floater slowed for a trader with a string of pack mules. “I can’t wait, Patera, if you’re going to be inside very long.”

“I’m not even going to get out,” Silk assured him. “I merely wish to see it.”

Still watching the broadening road, the driver nodded his satisfaction. “Then I’ll be happy to oblige you, Patera. No trouble.”

The countryside seemed to flow past. No wonder, Silk thought, that the rich rode in floaters when distances were too great for their litters. Why, on donkeys this had taken hours!

“Have a good time, Patera? You stayed awfully late.”

“No,” Silk said, then reconsidered. “In a way I did, I suppose. It was certainly very different from everything I’m accustomed to.”

The driver chuckled politely.

“I did have a good time, in a sense,” Silk decided. “I enjoyed certain parts of my visit enormously, and I ought to be honest enough to admit it.”

The driver nodded again. “Only not everything. Yeah, I know just what you mean.”

“My view is colored, no doubt, by the fact that I fell and injured my ankle. It was really quite painful, and it’s still something of a discomfort. A Doctor Crane very kindly set the bone for me and applied this cast, free of charge. I imagine you must know him. Your master told me that Doctor Crane has been with him for the past four years.”

“Do I! The old pill-pounder and me have floated over a whorl of ground together. Don’t make much sense sometimes, but he’ll talk you deaf if you don’t watch out, and ask more questions than the hoppies.”

Silk nodded, conscious again of the object Crane had slipped into his waistband. “I found him friendly.”

“I bet you did. You didn’t ride out with me, did you, Patera?”

Blood had several floaters, obviously, just as he had implied. Silk said, “No, not with you. I came with another man, but he left before I did.”

“I didn’t think so. See, I tell them about Doc Crane on the way out. Sometimes they get worried about the girls and boys. Know what I mean, Patera?”

“I think so.”

“So I tell them forget it. We got a doctor right there to check everybody over, and if they got some kind of little problem of their own … I’m talking about the older bucks, Patera, you know? Why, maybe he could help them out. It’s good for Doc, because sometimes they give him something. And it’s good for me, too. I’ve had quite a few of them thank me for telling them, after the party.”

“I fear I have nothing to give you, my son,” Silk said stiffly. It was perfectly true, he assured himself; the two cards in his pocket were already spent, or as good as spent. They would buy a fine victim for Scylsday, less than two days off.

“That’s all right, Patera. I didn’t figure you did. It’s a gift to the Chapter. That’s how I look at it.”

“I can give you my blessing, however, when we separate. And I will.”

“That’s all right, Patera,” the driver said. “I’m not much for sacrifice and all that.”