Exodus from the Long Sun

“Four, Calde.” Behind him, Silk heard Swallow’s relieved exhalation. “I want to say five, but I can’t guarantee it. We could start a fifth, once the first four are moving along.”

“Then the city will order four,” Silk decided, “with the double front plates I described, heads of real bronze, and the shields. We must consider armament, too, I suppose, and price. How long will four require?”

Swallow gnawed his lip. “I’m going to say two months. That’s the best I can promise, Calde.”

“Six weeks. Hire new people and train them — there are thousands of unemployed men and women in this city. Work day and night.” Silk paused, considering. “The city agrees to pay a premium of six cards for each day less than forty-five. You have my word on that.”

Swallow licked his lips.

From his perch on the screen, Oreb crowed, “Silk win!”

Chapter 8 — To Save Your Life

Repressing a shudder, Maytera Mint stepped over the dead man’s leg, the last to go into the guardroom. Over Hyrax’s leg, she told herself firmly. It was only Hyrax’s leg, and not a thing of honor; Hyrax, a near-homophone of Hierax, was a name often given boys whose mothers had died in childbirth.

Now, Maytera Mint reflected, Hierax had come for Hyrax.

“They, the — ah…” Remora began, and fell silent.

“Soldiers.” Spider seated himself on a stool. “Soldiers got them.” He pulled up his tunic and thrust his needler into his waistband, let the tunic fall into place again, and wiped his hands on his thighs. “See how good they got shot, Patera? Dead center, all three. That’s soldiers’ shootin’.”

“I would have thought that Hyrax’s body would warn Guan,” Maytera Mint ventured. She was looking down at Guan’s body as she spoke. “He must have seen it, exactly as we did.”

Spider nodded. “That’s why he figured there wasn’t nobody layin’ for him. He figured they’d of moved it if they were, and he had a slug gun, didn’t he? I’d want to know more than feet in the door, wouldn’t I? So he went in careful and had a look around, see? That’s how I would of done, and that’s how Guan did. Then he set his gun down, probably stood it in the corner, and got that water. That’s when they got him, shot him from in back. See where he’s lyin’? He was watchin’ the door while he drank. He couldn’t shut it without movin’ Hyrax, and he hadn’t done that yet, but he was watchin’, only a soldier was in here with him that he didn’t know about, and that’s when he shot him.”

“May I sit, too?” Maytera Mint had found another stool. “May His Emminence?”

“Sure.”

“We — er — arms? Should be armed.” Remora was poking about the guardroom. “Slug guns, hey? Slug guns for soldiers, um, chems. Chemical persons, eh? All of them. The slug guns of the, um, departed.”

“They’re gone,” Spider informed him. “They all had slug guns. That’s Guan, Hyrax, and Sewellel. A slug gun’ll do for a soldier, and soldiers don’t like them lyin’ around.

“I am sorry,” Maytera Mint told him. “Genuinely sorry. You must understand that. I sympathize with your grief, not just conventionally but actually.”

“All fight. Sure.”

“Nevertheless, I have won our bet. You pledged your word to give me honest answers to three questions. If you would prefer to wait, I understand. We may not have long, however.”

“I might not,” Spider told her. “That’s what you’re thinkin’, isn’t it? Say it.”

She shook her head. “I’m not, because I don’t understand the situation sufficiently. When you’ve answered my questions, I may. Here is the first. The Army is by no means alone in its possession of slug guns. All Bison’s troopers have them, as do many others. Yet you were entirely certain it was not one of Bison’s troopers who had killed Paca. Why was that?”

Remora put in, “He’s answered already, hey? The — urn — accuracy. Precision.

“Yeah, that. But we saw them, and the other boys shot at them. You said you heard shootin’ when we had you locked up. Well, that was what you heard. It was soldiers, two or three, maybe. If they’d known there wasn’t but five of us and me with no slug gun, they’d have shot it out, but they couldn’t be sure we didn’t have a couple dozen, that’s what I think. So they beat hoof figurin’ to chill us one at a time.” He sighed. “We ought to of stuck together, but I didn’t see it like that then.”

“Thank you.” Maytera Mint laced her fingers in her lap as she considered. “If they have come to rescue His Eminence and me, there would be no reason for us to shoot them if we had slug guns to do it. That’s not a question, Spider. It’s a comment.”

“It’s right enough, whichever it is. But if you’re tryin’ to find out who sent them or why, you’re not goin’ to get it out of me. I don’t know. The Army’s ours, the Ayuntamiento’s. All the soldiers are supposed to know about us.”

“Possibly, um, councillor, eh?” Remora had carried over a stool. “Might not he have come to — ah — dubiety? You have, um, informers? Against the general’s forces, eh? Might not the councillor have come to fear that the calde, er, likewise? You?”

“Maybe.” Spider rose, went to the door, and taking Hyrax’s wrists pulled him into the room. “But I don’t believe it.”

“Nor do I,” Maytera Mint murmured as Spider shut the door and bolted it.

“You gamble, eh? Put yourself at hazard. And us. If the soldiers you apprehend are concealed, hey? There are other, um, chambers? In addition to this in which we, er, presently?”

“That’s the latrine,” Spider told him, nodding toward an interior door. “We got one of those portable jakes in there. The other’s the storeroom. Yeah, they could be in either one. Or locked out. I’ll take that for now.”

He turned to Maytera Mint. “You got two more questions, General. You goin’ to ask them? Or you want more water and somethin’ to eat? You can eat first if you want to.”

Observing Remora’s expression, she said, “Why can’t we eat while I ask? We’re adults.”

“Swell. Patera, you’re the hungriest, right?”

“I, er, possibly.”

“Then you go in and get it. The door’s not locked. Go in there, have a look at the prog, and bring out whatever you and the general want. Fetch along some wine, too, and more water if you want it.”

Remora gulped. “If they are, hey? Inside?”

“They most likely won’t shoot you. Tell them they won’t have to shoot me, neither. Tell them all I got’s a needler. When we went up to that house, I figured a needler’d be plenty and leave a hand free. Besides, it’s what I usually pack.”

“I shall emphasize the point, um, assuming.” Remora faced about and bowed his head.

“Well, get to it. Open the shaggy door.”

“He’s praying,” Maytera Mint explained. “He knows that he may be shot as soon as he does. He’s commending himself to High Hierax and offering the other gods what may be his final prayers as a living person.”

“Well, make it quick!”

“Thank you for answering my first question,” Maytera Mint said to distract Spider. “I agree that you’ve answered fully and fairly, as specified. My second may be a bit touchier. I want to point out in advance that it concerns no confidential matters of our city’s. Or of the Ayuntamiento’s, in so far as the two can be distinguished.

“Before I ask, would you like to pray too? If there are soldiers in there, which you seem to think possible, they are more likely to shoot you than His Eminence. And if they shoot His Eminence, they will certainly shoot us as well.”

Spider gave her a twisted grin. “How about you, General? You’re a sibyl. Why aren’t you prayin’?”

She took out her beads and fingered them while she framed her answer. “Because I have prayed a great deal already during the past few days. I have been in danger almost constantly, and I’ve sent others into dangers far worse and prayed for them. I would only be repeating the petitions I’ve made so often. Also because I’ve told the gods again and again that I’m very willing to die if that is their will for me. If I were to pray, I would pray only that His Eminence, and you, be spared. I do so pray. Great Pas, hear my plea!”