On Blue's waters

You will also want to know the solution to the mystery of the fish. About that, I can really tell nothing. I have certain suspicions, but no evidence to back them up.

Let me say this. An island-our own island of Lizard, for instance-is in fact a sort of mountain thrust out of the sea, as all good sailors know. If the sea were to recede, we would discover that our mill is really situated not at the foot of the Tor but on a mountaintop. An island, that is to say, exists not only in the air but 10 the water that is beneath the air. I have reason to suspect that there were four of us, not three, on the island I have named Mucor’s Rock. (I do not include Babbie.) Mucor, I believe, communicated with that fourth person by means you understand no better-and no worse-than I do. You will recall how she appeared to Silk and others, in the tunnels, on the airship, and even in Silk’s own bedroom. This may have been something of the same kind.

Maytera’s prophecy regarding me was entirely accurate. You may object that save for the part about the beast with three horns-which I will treat separately in a moment-it was very general. So it was; but it was correct as well, as I have said. I did indeed journey long, endure hunger, thirst, cold and heat, and terrible darkness of which you shall read before this record closes-assuming that I will someday finish it for you. Here in Gaon, I have great wealth at my command and my orders are obeyed without question.

On Green I rode a three-horned beast, as Maytera foresaw. Indeed, I was riding it at the time I was wounded fatally. But I shall say no more about that. It would only disturb us both.

As for Mucor’s report, I am yawning again already. I will leave that anticlimax for another day.

- 4- THE TALE OF THE PAJAROCU

The next morning I found Mucor and Maytera Marble enjoying the sunshine in front of their hut. At the sound of my steps, Maytera blessed me as she used to bless our class at the beginning of each day at the palaestra, recommending us to the god of the day. Mucor, to my astonishment, actually said, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” I replied. “You’re back. I’m very glad to have you back with us, Mucor. Happier than I can say. Did you find Silk?”

She nodded.

“Where is he?”

“Sit down.” She and Maytera Marble were sitting upon one sun-warmed stone, she cross-legged and Maytera with hands clasped over her shins.

I sat on another. “But you found him? He’s still alive? Please tell me. I’ve got to know.”

“Once I found him, I stayed with Silk a long while. We talked three times.”

“That’s wonderful!” He was alive, clearly, and at that moment 1 could have jumped up and danced.

“He asked me not to tell you where he is. It will be very dangerous for you to try to go where he is. If you find him, it will be dangerous for him, and for Hyacinth as well.” This was said without any expression, as Mucor always spoke; but it seemed to me that there was a spark of concern in her eyes, which were usually so empty.

“I have to, Mucor. We need him, and I have given my word that I will try.”

She shook her head, sending her wild black hair flying. “I told Silk what you told me, that the people here want him to come and lead them. He said that if he were their leader he would only tell them to lead themselves, telling every man and every woman to do what he or she knows should be done. Those words are his.”

“But we need the favor of the gods!”

Maytera remarked quietly, “You knew once whom the good gods favor, Horn. I taught you that while you were still very small. Have you forgotten it?”

I sat thinking for a few seconds. At last I said, “Mucor, you told Silk what I told you when I came.”

She nodded. Her eyes were dull once more, and fixed upon something far away.

“This is my fault, because I didn’t explain the situation as fully as I should have. It’s actually my fault twice. My fault for not explaining, and my fault that certain people in New Viron want Silk to be their caldé. The same thing is true, I’m told, in Three Rivers and some other towns, and that’s my fault, too. My wife and I wrote our book, and it has been more widely read, and much more often copied, than we had ever dreamed it would be.”

“What about the women troopers from Trivigaunte?” Maytera inquired.

“No. Though their men may feel differently. But they want him in Urbasecundus, and in other towns even farther from here. I said my wife and I wrote that book, and it sounds as if I’m trying to divide the blame. I’m not; our book would never have been written if I had not been determined to write it before I died. Nettle saw how hard it was and offered her help, which I gladly accepted. But the fault is mine alone.”

I waited for Mucor to speak, which was nearly always a mistake.