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The ends of Oosik’s mustache tilted upward. “Then you must tell us by all means, Colonel.”
“It imitates war, as most games do. A cavalry skirmish in this case. The players may change mounts after each goal, but the players themselves can’t be changed, or even replaced if one is hurt.” Both Oosik and his son nodded.
“There is a twenty-minute rest for them, however, and so we speak of the first half of the game and the second, divided by this rest. What determines the result, I have found, is not which team scores the most goals in the first half, because there’s seldom much disparity. The wi
Siyuf nodded. Her head moved scarcely one finger’s width, but the nod a
No one spoke.
“A man? This man Calde Silk? Can that be? Observe the leg broken, the wound to the chest of which Maytera our hostess speak. Yet he hunt by magic for a woman he require, and when by magic she is found, he leave food and friends and seek her out. Most women, even, would not do this.”
Chenille said, “He’s going to need a lot more help than one old man. I wish I’d made him take me along.”
Across Xiphias’s abandoned plate, Mattak said, “Two old men. His Cognizance has gone, too.” Surprised, Siyuf stared at the empty chair next to her own.
Under his breath, Mattak added, “I’m glad.”
Sergeant Sand spoke for them all. “He didn’t come.”
Kneeling by the headless, pawless body of Eland’s second beast, Remora looked up. “I shall — ah — proceed. I have, um, led astray myself. Enthusiasm. Contagious, eh? But I, um, coadjutor, have not, eh? Seen a god. Possibly the victim will enlighten us.”
As the holy knife laid open the beast from breastbone to pelvis, Spider said, “Sure, read it for us, it can’t hurt.”
It hurt the poor brute, Maytera Mint thought; but its death was swift, at least, and now the pain is over.
Sand had brought his slug gun to his shoulder before she saw Urus, halfway up the convoluted iron stair at the back of the manteion and taking its steps three at a time. She shouted, “Don’t fire!” and Sand did not. A moment later the door at the top of the stair slammed shut. “He thought we were going to offer him,” she explained to Eland. “Do you? We won’t. I will not permit it.”
Remora, who had been kneeling by the second victim, rose and strode to the ambion. “Extraordinary, eh? Extraordinary, my, er, sons. And daughter. Nothing, er, initially, and now this.” Sand resumed his seat, his head bowed.
“An — ah — preface. Necessary, I think. The offering of persons was practiced in the past in — ah — here. Many of you aware of it. Have to be. Forbidden within, um, by the present holder of the baculus.”
O you gods, Maytera Mint thought, he’s going to say the entrails order us to sacrifice Eland. What am I to do?
“In practice, children, hey? Almost always. No sense sending a messenger who ca
Slate shifted his position until he stood behind Eland.
“Before my time. As an augur, eh? I would have — ah — declared…” Remora paused, his bony hands gripping the edges of the ambion, his eyes on the headless carcass.
“Never, eh? Couldn’t do it. Not a child. Not even, um, Urus. Now — ah — two sides to the entrails. You follow me? One for the congregation and the city. Other the presenter and the augur. For the — ah — Our Holy City, war, death, and destruction. Bad. Calamitous! For the, um, myself, I shall. Offer a person, er, human being. Man. So Pas warns us. Me.”
Maytera Mint said firmly, “Eland, can you see the gods?”
He looked at her in mild surprise. “I du
There was no time for delicacy. “Have you had a woman? You must have!”
“Sure. Lots of times ’fore I got throwed in the pit.”
She turned to Remora. “He is not suitable. I can see that, Your Eminence, and you must—”
Sand stood up. “I am.” He jabbed his steel chest with a steel thumb; the noise it made was like the clank of a heavy chain.
“You can’t mean it!”
“Yes, sir, I do.” With oiled precision, Sand mounted the steps to the sanctuary. “He came. Great Pas came to the Grand Manteion.”
Maytera Mint nodded reluctantly.
“He talked to the Prolocutor, and he told him to talk to us. To me. He said for us to get you out, ’cause it’s part of the Plan. The Plan’s the most important thing there is, sir.”
“Certainly.”
“You say that,” he advanced on her, formidable as a talus, five hundredweight metal. “’Cause they taught you to in some palaestra. I say it ’cause I know it in my pump. He said get you and sacrifice, and he’d come and tell us what to do next. Pas said that.”
Meekly, she nodded again.
“So we caught the bios, and then I thought maybe it’s not enough so I made them catch the two gods.”
“Bufes, Sergeant.”
“Whatever. Only the bufes aren’t any good, and now you and him say the bios are no good either, sir.” Sand wheeled to face Remora and pushed his slug gun into Remora’s hands. “I knew, Patera. ’Fore you read it, I knew. You ever want to die?”
“I? Ah — no.”
He’s lying, Maytera Mint thought. I know what it is, and so does he.
“I do.” Sand gestured toward Schist, Slate, and Shale. “So do they. Maybe they won’t say it, but they do. I want to die for Pas, and I’m going to right now.” He knelt, staring at the floor, and Remora looked helplessly down at the slug gun.
Maytera Mint murmured, “If you would prefer not to, Your Eminence, it would certainly be permissible for someone more familiar with the weapon to act for you.”
“You, er, concur, General?”
She sighed. “Sometimes generals need sergeants to recall them to their duty. So it seems. Whether I learned it in a palaestra or not, Sergeant Sand is right. The Plan is the most important thing in the whorl, and the victim consents.”
Still on his knees, Sand muttered, “Thanks, sir.”
She knelt beside him. “I’ve heard it’s possible for chems to — to reproduce. You’ve never done that?”
Slate said, “None of us have, General, and there’s hardly any fem chems left.” And Sand, “No. Never.”
She turned back to Remora and held out her hands for the slug gun. “I’ve never fired one either, Your Eminence, but I know how they work and I’ve seen it done thousands of times since this began.”
“No, Mayt — No, General.”
“Please, Your Eminence. For your own sake.”
He silenced her by raising Sand’s slug gun and pointing it awkwardly at Sand. “Precisely. Ah — to the point. For my sake, General. If I must, um, officiate, the — ah — holy and um, self-sacrificing. Sole responsibility. Do you follow me? Criminal penalties, hey? Religious, likewise. Removed from the — ah — active clergy.”
His wheezing breath seemed to fill the manteion. “But for him — ah — highest god. For Pas!” He jerked at the trigger.
“Not like that, Your Eminence. There’s a safety, and if you hold it that way the recoil will cripple you. Or so I’m assured.” She positioned the slug gun in his hands. “Grasp it firmly, tight against your shoulder, Then it will merely push you backwards. If you hold it loosely and try to keep it away, it will fly back and strike you like a club.”
Sand said, “In the head, Patera. That’s the best.”
“I am augur here,” Remora told him, and fired.