“No, thank you.”

“Me neither! But we found ’em! Think she’d keep ’em? Threw ’em on the floor! Fact!”

Oreb confided, “Girl cry.”

“You shouldn’t have left her in the dark,” Silk muttered.

“Chased me out, lad! Candle and all!”

Feeling the pressure of Hossaan’s hand on his back, Silk said, “You’re right, of course, Willet. I must go in to her. I don’t know that I can help, but I must try.”

Alone, he walked down the dark corridor and turned into the darker doorway of what had been Hyacinth’s suite. Here there had been a dressing table inlaid with gold and ivory, wardrobes crammed with expensive gowns and coats, and a summonable glass. Only darkness remained, and the melancholy sweetness of spilled perfume. One door had led to Hyacinth’s balneum, Silk reminded himself, another to her bedchamber. In vain, he tried to recall which was to the left and which to the right, although with her sobs to guide him he did not really need to know. By touch, he located the correct door and found that it was open.

After that, there was nothing for it but to walk in, with the ghost of the Patera Silk that he had been.

“Halt!” The voice was male, accompanied by the rattle of sling swivels and the click of the safety; Siyuf’s intelligence officer raised her hands while trying to make out the sentry in the cloud-dimmed skylight. “I am Colonel Abanja, in the Rani’s service.”

Whispering. There were two or more sentries, clearly. “Advance and give the password.”

Abanja moved forward slowly, hands still in the air. If these nervous men were from the Calde’s Guard, they were (or at least ought to be) disciplined troopers. If they were General Mint’s volunteers, they might fire without warning.

“Halt in the name of the Rani!”

Abanja stopped again and identified herself a second time. Somewhere behind her, a voice hissed, “They’re shaggy shook up, lady. I wouldn’t stand between ’em.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. “That’s good advice, I’m sure.”

A lanky trooper of the Companion Cavalry stepped from a shadow; Abanja was happy to see that the muzzle of her slug gun was lowered. “You must give to me our password also, Colonel.”

“Boraz.” Now she would see whether this trooper’s lack of familiarity with the Common Tongue, with its implication of aristocracy, was real or feigned.

“You can pass, sir.”

Feigned.

“Halt!” It was the calde’s men again. Abanja said, “I’ve already halted for you once.”

“Do you have our password?”

Inwardly, she sighed. “I didn’t know one was required. I have to speak with the officer in charge of our detachment.”

“You can’t go in the Juzgado without our password.”

“Then you must give it to me.”

Another whispered conference. “It’s against regulations, Colonel.”

Her eyes were adapting to the darkness; both male sentries were visible to her now, skylight gleaming on their waxed armor. “If it’s against regulations to give it to me, you can’t expect me to know it.” She spoke to the cavalry trooper. “Go get her. You have my permission to leave your post.”

Too softly for the men to overhear, the voice behind Abanja hissed, “There’s a nice place, Trotter’s. A street down ’n turn west. We can have a drink. Tell these hoppies to send her when she comes.”

Abanja shook her head.

“Lady, you need me worse’n I need you.”

Without looking around Abanja murmured, “Do I? I hadn’t realized it.”

“I could of got you in without a hitch. Shag, I still will. Tell ’em Charter. This’s for free.”

“Sentry!” Abanja called. “I remember your password now. Your calde told me at dinner.”

Both advanced with leveled slug guns. “Give it.”

She smiled. “Unless someone’s changed it without notifying your calde, it’s Charter.”

“Pass, friend.”

“Thank you again,” Abanja murmured.

The hiss was scarcely audible. “Back room. Name’s Urus.”

“All g-gone.” Slowly, Hyacinth’s sobs had subsided into sniffles. “All the times. All that smiling. Cream and lotion. Beggar’s root and rust, do this and do that. N-nothing left.” The sobs returned. “Oh, K-k-kypris! Have pity!”

Silk muttered, “I think perhaps she already has.”

“Bake here shop!” It was the catachrest. “Cuss-cuss.”

He did, kissing Hyacinth’s ear and the nape of her neck, and when she raised her face to his, her lips.

“Niece! Mow cuss!” The little catachrest attempted a smacking that emerged between the intended kiss and a squall.

The third cuss was not yet over. When it was, Hyacinth said, “Wipe your face. I got snot all over you.”

“Tears.” Silk took out his handkerchief.

“B-both. I was crying so hard my nose ran. Don’t think I can’t cry pretty when I w-want to.”

“Itty laddie, done! Shop!”

“I’ve got certain things I think about, and here it comes. Know what I had when I left h-home?”

He shook his head, then said, “What was it?” realizing that she could not have seen the motion.

“Two gowns M-Mother made and her umbrella. She didn’t have a-anything else to give me, so she gave me that. A big green umbrella. I kept it for years, and I don’t know what happened to it. H-Here’s what I’ve got now. The clothes I’ve got on and a gown Orchid promised to get cleaned, Tick here, and one card. But I owe her seven. That’s w-way too much for what I got, but what could I say?”

Silk stood. “That you’ll repay her later. You can say that again, too.”

“Y-y-you know…” A stifled sob. “You’re learning, you really are. Listen, I’m not through crying about all this yet. I’ll cry m-m-more — cry some m-more…”

“Shop!”

“Tonight. Before I go to sleep. I just about always cry then, and when I’m asleep, too, s-sometimes. Well, by Thelx!”

“What is it?” Silk inquired.

“Go stand in the doorway. Shut it behind you. Don’t ask, do it quick.”

He did, and heard voices in the dark: “Tick? Tick, are you still in here?” “Puck Tuck ape no!” “All right, quit pulling my skirt.” “Nod heavey.” “Did I say why I got him? You can open the door again. I was going to give him to Kypris and ask her to give me you.”

Once more, Silk was speechless.

“The market was closed, but some animal culls are always in there, and I gave the watchman a card to let me in and got Tick. The cull said talking animals are the best.”

“So I’ve been told — by the same seller, I’m sure.”

“I had a string around his neck, and I held it while I was looking for my things. Sometimes I held it in my teeth. When I got to crying I put my foot on it, but he got it off. Untied it or got it up where he could bite it, I guess.”

“Nod rum.”

“No, you didn’t run, and I know you knew what I was going to do, ’cause you kept on begging me not to.” To Silk, Hyacinth added, “Then everybody was going to that big manteion uphill, so I did, too.”

“I understand.”

“But when he got loose he didn’t beat hoof. Why not, Tick?”

“Say wharf laddie.”

“I guess.” Abandoning Tick, she addressed Silk. “What I’m trying to say is I know you’re really religious. I’m not, but you could teach me.”

He could not escape the thought that it would be better if she taught him. “I’m far from being the best possible teacher, but I’ll try if you wish it.”

“You said we’d go to the Prolocutor’s when we were done here. If it was for me, we don’t have to.”

He smiled. “You’re not going to offer Tick?”

“I will if you want me to.”

Tick protested, “New!”

“I see no point in it.” Something large and soft pressed Silk’s leg; he groped for it in the dark, but there was nothing there. “You want me to teach you. The gods — this is what I’ve found — aren’t greatly influenced by our gifts. When they give us what we ask—” The soft pressure resumed, practically pushing him off his feet.

“What is it?”

“That’s what I was wondering myself, but now I believe I know. Oreb tried to tell me out in the hall; and I should have guessed when he flew the first time I heard it. Mucor calls them lynxes. There’s one in the room with us.”