Nightside the Long Sun

“In spite of the rust, Orpine’s appearance must have horrified you; you realized you were confronting the devil all of you have come to fear, and your only thought was to kill her. You drew your dagger and stabbed her once, just below the ribs with the blade angled up.”

“She said I was beautiful,” Chenille whispered. “She tried to touch me, to stroke my face. It wasn’t Orpine—I might have knifed Orpine, but not for that. I backed away. She kept coming, and I knifed her. I knifed the devil, and then it was Orpine lying there dead.”

Silk nodded. “I understand.”

“You figured out my dagger, didn’t you? I didn’t think of it until it was too late.”

“The picture representing your name, you mean. Yes, I did. I had been thinking about Orpine’s name ever since I’d heard it. There’s no point in going into that here, but I had. Crane gave you the dagger, isn’t that right? You said a moment ago that he occasionally makes you a present. Your dagger must have been one of them.”

“You think he gave it to me to get me into trouble,” Chenille said. “It wasn’t like that at all.”

“What was it like?”

“One of the other girls had one. She has, most of us have—do you really care about all this?”

“Yes,” Silk told her. “I do.”

“So she went out that night. She was going to meet him someplace to eat, I guess, only a couple of culls jumped her and tried to pull her down. She plucked, and cut them both. That’s what she says. Then she beat the hoof, only she’d got blood on her.

“So I wanted to get one for when I go out, but I don’t know much about them, so I asked Crane where I could get a good one, where they wouldn’t cheat me. He said he didn’t know either, but he’d find out from Musk, because Musk knows all about knives and the rest of it, so next time he brought me that one. He’d got it specially made for me, or anyhow the picture put on.”

“I see.”

“Do you know, Patera, I’d never even seen chenille, not to know it was my flower anyway, till he brought me a bouquet for my room last spring? And I love it—that’s when I did my hair this color. He said sometimes they call it burning cattail. We laugh about it, so when I asked he gave me the dagger. Bucks buy dells things like that pretty often, to show they trust her not to do anything.”

“Is Doctor Crane the friend you mentioned?”

“No. That’s somebody younger. Don’t make me tell you who, unless you want to get me hurt.” Chenille fell silent, tight-lipped. “That’s abram. This’s going to hurt me a lot more, isn’t it? But if I don’t tell, he might help me if he can.”

“Then I won’t ask you again,” Silk said. “And I’m not going to tell Orchid or Blood, unless I must to save someone else. If the Guard were investigating, I suppose I’d have to tell the officer in charge, but I believe it might be a far worse injustice to turn you over to Blood than to permit you to go unpunished. Since that’s the case, I’ll let you go unpunished, or almost unpunished, if you’ll do as I ask. Orpine’s service will take place at eleven tomorrow, at my manteion on Sun Street. Orchid’s going to demand that all of you to attend it, and doubtless many of you will. I want you to be among those who do.”

Chenille nodded. “Yeah. Sure, Patera.”

“And while the service is in progress, I want you to pray for Orpine and Orchid, as well as for yourself. Will you do that as well?”

“To Hierax? All right, Patera, if you’ll tell me what to say.”

Silk gripped Blood’s walking stick, flexing it absently between his hands. “Hierax is indeed the god of death and the caldé of the dead, and as such is the most appropriate object of worship at any such service. It will be Scylsday, however, and thus our sacrifice cannot be his alone.”

“Uh-huh. That’s about the only prayer I know—what they call her short litany. Will that be all right?”

Silk laid aside the stick and leaned toward Chenille, his decision made. “There is one more god to whom I wish you to pray—a very powerful one who may be able to help you, as well as Orchid and poor Orpine. He is called the Outsider. Do you know anything about him?”

She shook her head. “Except for Pas and Echidna, and the days and months, I don’t even know their names.”

“Then you must open your heart to him tomorrow,” Silk told her, “praying as you’ve never prayed before. Praise him for his kindness toward me, and tell him how badly you—how badly all of us in this quarter need his help. If you do that, and your prayers are heartfelt and truthful, it won’t matter what you say.”

“The Outsider. All right.”

“Now I’m going to shrive you, removing your guilt in the matter of Orpine’s death and any other wrongs that you have done. Kneel here. You don’t have to look at me.”

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