But what had been said had set me thinking of the north, and I found I knew next to nothing about it.

When I had been a boy, scrubbing floors and running errands in the Citadel, the war itself had seemed almost infinitely remote. I knew that most of the matrosses who manned the major batteries had taken part in it, but I knew it just as I knew that the sunlight that fell upon my hand had been to the sun. I would be a torturer, and as a torturer I would have no reason to enter the army and no reason to fear that I would be impressed into it. I never expected to see the war at the gates of Nessus (in fact, those gates themselves were hardly more than legends to me), and I never expected to leave the city, or even to leave that quarter of the city that held the Citadel.

The north, Ascia, was then inconceivably remote, a place as distant as the most distant galaxy, since both were forever out of reach. Mentally, I confused it with the dying belt of tropical vegetation that lay between our own land and theirs, although I would have distinguished the two without difficulty if Master Palaemon had asked me to in the classroom.

But of Ascia itself I had no idea. I did not know if it had great cities or none. I did not know if it was mountainous like the northern and eastern parts of our Commonwealth or as level as our pampas. I did have the impression (though I could not be sure it was correct) that it was a single land mass, and not a chain of islands like our south; and most distinct of all, I had the impression of an innumerable people our Ascian’s populace—an inexhaustible swarm that almost became a creature in itself, as a colony of ants does. To think of those millions upon millions without speech, or confined to parroting proverbial phrases that must surely have long ago lost most of their meaning, was nearly more than the mind could bear.

Speaking almost to myself, I said, “It must surely be a trick, or a lie, or a mistake. Such a nation could not exist.”

And the Ascian, his voice no louder than my own had been, and perhaps even softer, answered,

“How shall the state be most vigorous? It shall be most vigorous when it is without conflict. How shall it be without conflict? When it is without disagreement. How shall disagreement be banished? By banishing the four causes of disagreement: lies, foolish talk, boastful talk, and talk which serves only to incite quarrels. How shall the four causes be banished? By speaking only Correct Thought. Then shall the state be without disagreement Being without disagreement it shall be without conflict. Being without conflict it shall be vigorous, strong, and secure.

I had been answered, and doubly.

VI. Miles, Foila, Melito, and Hallvard

THAT EVENING I fell prey to a fear I had been trying to put from my mind for some time. Although I had seen nothing of the monsters Hethor had brought from beyond the stars since little Severian and I had escaped from the village of the sorcerers, I had not forgotten that he was searching for me. While I travelled in the wilderness or upon the waters of Lake Diuturna, I had not been much afraid he would overtake me. Now I was travelling no longer, and I could feel the weakness in my limbs, for despite the food I had eaten I was weaker than I had ever been while starving in the mountains.

Then too, I feared Agia almost more than Hethor’s notules, his salamanders and slugs. I knew her courage, her cleverness, and her malice. Any one of the scarlet-clad priestesses of the Pelerines moving between the cots might easily be she, with a poisoned stiletto beneath her gown. I slept badly that night; but though I dreamed much, my dreams were indistinct, and I will not attempt to relate them here.

I woke feeling less than rested. My fever, of which I had hardly been conscious when I came to the lazaret, and which had seemed to subside on the day previous, returned. I felt its heat in every limb—it seemed to me that I must glow, that the very glaciers of the south would melt if I came among them. I took out the Claw and clasped it to me, and for a time even held it in my mouth. My fever sank again, but left me weak and dizzied.

That morning the soldier came to see me. He wore a white gown the Pelerines had given him in place of his armour, but he appeared wholly recovered, and told me he hoped to leave the next day. I said I would like to introduce him to the acquaintances I had made in this part of the lazaret and asked if he now recalled his name.

He shook his head. “I can remember very little. I am hoping that when I go among the units of the army I will find someone there who knows me.”

I introduced him anyway, calling him Miles since I could think of nothing better. I did not know the Ascian’s name either and discovered that no one did, not even Foila. When we asked him what it was, he only said, “I am Loyal to the Group of Seventeen.”

For a time Foila, Melito, the soldier, and I chatted among ourselves. Melito seemed to like him very well, though perhaps only because of the similarity of the name I had given him to his own. Then the soldier helped me into a sitting posture, lowered his voice, and said, “Now I have to talk to you privately.

As I said, I think I will leave here in the morning. From what I have seen of you, you won’t be getting out for several days—maybe not for a couple of weeks. I may never see you again.”

“Let us hope that isn’t so.”

“I hope not either. But if I can find my legion, I may be killed by the time you’re well. And if I can’t find it, I’ll probably go into another to keep from being arrested as a deserter.” He paused.

I smiled. “And I may die here, of the fever. You didn’t want to say that Do I look as bad as poor Melito?”

He shook his head. “Not as bad, no. I think you’ll make it-”

“That’s what the thrush sang while the lynx chased the hare around the bay tree.”

Now it was his turn to smile. “You’re right; I was about to say that.”

“Is it a common expression in that part of the Commonwealth where you were brought up?”

The smile vanished. “I don’t know. I can’t remember where my home is, and that’s part of the reason I have to talk to you now. I remember walking down a road with you at night—that’s the only thing I do remember, before I came here. Where did you find me?”

“In a wood, I suppose about five or ten leagues south of here. Do you recall what I told you about the Claw as we walked?”

He shook his head. “I think I remember you mentioning such a thing, but not what you said.”

“What do you remember? Tell me all of it, and I’ll tell you what I know, and what I can guess.”

“Walking with you. A lot of darkness ... I fell, or maybe flew through it. Seeing my own face, multiplied again and again. A girl with hair like red gold and enormous eyes.”

“A beautiful woman?”

He nodded. “The most beautiful in the world.”

Raising my voice, I asked if anyone had a mirror he would lend us for a moment. Foila produced one from the possessions beneath her cot, and I held it up for the soldier. “Is this the face?”

He hesitated. “I think so.”

“Blue eyes?”

“... I can’t be sure.”

I returned the mirror to Foila. “I will tell you again what I told you on the road, and I wish we had a more private place in which to do it. Some time ago a talisman came into my hands. It came innocently, but it does not belong to me, and it is very valuable—sometimes, not always, but sometimes—it has the power to heal the sick, and even to revive the dead. Two days ago, as I was travelling north, I came across the body of a dead soldier. It was in a forest, away from the road. He had been dead less than a day; I would say its likely he had died sometime during the preceding night. I was very hungry then, and I cut his pack straps and ate most of the food he had been carrying with him. Then I felt guilty about doing that and got out the talisman and tried to restore him to life. It has failed often before, and this time I thought for a while it was going to fail again. It didn’t, although he returned to life slowly and for a long time did not seem to know where he was or what was happening to him.”