Return To The Whorl Part 14

"Aye."

Oreb muttered, "Poor man."

"So would you guide me to the back of the house and help look for wood? The trees overhang the wall there, as I remember, and there must be fallen branches."

Pig's big hand found his arm, and although Pig did not reply, he followed Pig docilely.

"This is where they had the sheds for Blood's floaters, and where the horned cats were penned. A talus cared for them, the one Silk killed in the tunnels. I suppose the others, the ones we killed when we stormed the house, were the Ayuntamiento's. The rabbit hutches must have been back here, too, though I don't remember seeing them."

"Seein'?" Pig's hand tightened. "Did yer say seein', bucky?"

Oreb fidgeted on his master's shoulder uneasily, wings half extended. "Watch out."

"Yes, Pig, I did."

"Pals, hain't we?"

"Certainly I am your friend, Pig. I hope you're mine as well."

"Then tell me somethin', bucky. Tell me what yer see."

"Right now? Nothing at all. It's totally dark."

"Yer said yer'd blow h'out yer glim, an' yer did. Heard yer. Heard yer h'open, an' blow, an' shut h'up."

"That's right. I can light it again if you wish, and use it to look around for wood."

"Nae suns.h.i.+ne, bucky?"

"No. None."

The hand on his shoulder, tight already, tightened still more. "What h'about ther skylands? Onie light h'up there?"

"No--wait." He lifted his head, scanning the sky. "One little pinpoint of red. It's a city burning, I suppose, though just a spark to us. That's what someone told me they were."

"What h'about ther hoose, bucky? Did yer gae h'on h'in?"

"No, not yet. I intended to, of course."

"Then yer don't know h'if there's lights h'in h'it, do yer?" Pig's voice shook.

"I--I'm inclined to doubt it. The entrance was dark, and we--I--saw no lights in the windows. I didn't ask Hound, but if he had seen one he would have mentioned it, I'm sure."

"What h'about yer, H'oreb? Yer was h'in there wi' me."

"Bird go," Oreb confirmed cautiously.

"Yer een's guid h'in ther dark. Better'n onie man's, hain't that lily, H'oreb? Look 'round noo, will yer? A favor ter ane what's yer friend?"

"Bird look."

"Yer needn't be a-feared. What do yer see?"

"Pig, Silk."

"Aye. What 'sides a' us?"

"Big wall. Big house."

"What a' a woman, H'oreb? Do yer see onie woman h'about, watchin' an' listenin'?"

"No girl."

"Lookin' h'out ther winder, h'it might be."

"No, no. No see."

There was a grunt of effort, followed by a thump as Pig's knee came down on the hard, dry gra.s.s. "Bucky, will yer help me? Yer me friend, yer said sae. Will yer?"

"Of course, Pig." From the new angle of Pig's arm, Pig was kneeling before him. He groped for him and found the other hand, a hairy hand as large as good-sized ham, that grasped the pommel of the big sword. "I'll help you in any way I can. Surely you know that."

"Recollect how yer felt a' me face, bucky?"

"Of course."

"Wanted ter prove ter yer Pig has nae een, bucky. Got me rag h'over 'em, an' some thinks Pig's soldierin'. Wanted yer ter find h'out fer yerself."

"I understand."

"Yer didn't have nae glim then, but yer does noo. Will yer light h'it fer me, bucky? Fer ane second, like."

"Certainly. It will be a relief to me, actually. Wait a moment." He opened the lantern and got out the striker again. It flared, shooting yellow-white sparks that seemed as bright as thrown torches; the b.u.t.ter-yellow flame of the candle rose.

The rag was no longer across Pig's broad, bearded face. Widely s.p.a.ced holes like the eyes in a skull stared at nothing.

"Can yer see 'em, bucky? See me een? Where they was?"

He made himself speak. "Yes, Pig. Yes, I can."

"Gaen, hain't they? They cut 'em oot?"

He lowered his lantern and looked away. "Yes, they are. They did."

"Gets dirty, sometimes. Cleans h'in 'em wi' a rag h'on the h'end a' me fin'er."

"Man cry," Oreb informed him, and he looked back. Rivulets of moisture coursed down either side of Pig's broad nose.

"I'll clean them for you, Pig, if that's what you wish. With a clean cloth and clean water."

"Went h'in." Pig's voice was almost inaudible. "H'in ther hoose ter find what might be found, bucky. An' seen her."

Silence. He opened the little black lantern again and blew out its candle, and could not have explained why.

"Dark h'again, bucky?" There was a hideous mirth in Pig's voice that hurt more than any tears.

"Yes, Pig," he said. "Dark again."

"Yer dinna h'ask h'about her, bucky."

"No talk," Oreb advised him.

He ignored the warning. "I didn't think it the moment for prying questions."

"Yer dinna care, bucky?"

"I care very much. But this isn't the time. Hound is unloading his donkeys, Pig, and expecting us to find firewood. Let us find firewood for him. We said we would."

Later, when all three were sitting before a small fire in the large fireplace that had graced Blood's sellaria, Hound said, "I'm going to have a look at my donkeys. I've never had one get loose on a darkday, and I prefer that it never happen." He rose. "Can I get either of you anything?"

"We've more than enough."

As Hound left, Pig whispered, "Noo, bucky? Want ter hear h'about her noo?"

He shook his head. "Wait until Hound comes back."

"Want him ter hear h'it? Thought yer dinna."

"Of course I do. He knows this area and the people in it. Have you ever been here before, Pig?"

"Has Pig? Pig has nae!"

"Well, I have; but that was years ago. I'll have forgotten a great deal, even if I don't think I have. I'll have distorted more, and even the little I remember will be largely obsolete. I wanted to get you alone so I could find out what was troubling you. Now that I have--and it troubles me, too--I'm eager to hear what Hound will say about it." He waited for Pig to speak, and when Pig did not he added, "Of course I don't imagine that Hound can tell us how a man without eyes can see; but he may be able to tell us a something about what he has seen."

"Man come," Oreb announced. "Come back."

"I take it your donkeys haven't strayed, Hound? You wouldn't have returned so quickly if that had been the case."

Hound smiled as he resumed his seat. "No. They're fine. I worry too much about them, I'm afraid, and I doubt that will be the last time I check on them tonight. It must seem silly to you."

"Your concern for the animals in your care? Certainly not. But, Hound, Pig has confided something extraordinary to me, and he'd like you to hear about it, too."

"If it's something I can help with, I'll do what I can."

"I'm sure you will. Pig went into this house alone when we first arrived. I needn't dwell upon how dark it was, or mention that Pig carried no light."

Guardedly, Hound nodded.

"I wish it were not necessary for me to mention that Pig is blind as well. He is, and though I never doubted it, he insisted I verify it. I did, and he's totally blind. If you doubt it, I do not doubt that he'll let you verify it as well."

"I'll take your word for it," Hound declared, "but I can't imagine what this is leading up to."

"Man see," Oreb explained concisely.

"Exactly. He saw a woman, here in this house. Is that correct, Pig?"

"Aye."

"Now you know all that I do, Hound. Let's go on from there.

"It was dark, Pig. Not the mere darkness of night, in which one can often discern large objects, including persons, but pitch dark. The depths of this ruined villa must have been utterly lightless. How was it you were able to see her?"

"Dinna know." Pig shook his head.

"Was she carrying a light? A candle, for example?"

"If she'd a' been," Pig said slowly, "Pig would nae been h'able ter see h'it ter tell yer." He stretched out his hands. "Fire here, hain't there? Auld Pig feels h'it, feels ther heat a' h'it. Can Pig see h'it, ter? Pig canna."

"Could you see anything other than the woman? The floor she was standing on, for example, or the wall behind her?"

"Nae, bucky. Nor canna recall such."

"It wasn't anybody you know?" Hound asked. "Tansy or--or some woman you've met in your travels?"

Pig turned his head, about ten degrees in error. "Would Pig know? Ter see?"

"I guess you wouldn't." Hound fingered his chin.

"Man talk!" Oreb urged.

"All right, I will. I warned you this place is supposed to be haunted. Or anyway I warned you, Horn. Pig had gone on ahead, I think."

"Haunted by a woman?"

"Yes. Do you want the whole story? It's the sort of thing children tell younger children, I warn you."

"I do. What about you, Pig?"

"Ho, aye."

"All right. Many years ago, a very rich man who had an ugly daughter lived here. This daughter was so ugly that no one would marry her. The rich man gave b.a.l.l.s and parties and invited all the eligible young men in the city, but none of them would marry her. A witch came to his door all robed in black, and he fed her and gave her a card, and asked what he could do about his ugly daughter. The witch told him to lock her up where n.o.body except himself would ever see her. What's wrong, Horn?"

"Nothing, except that I've just realized for the thousanth time what an idiot I am. Go on with your story, please--I'd like to hear it."

"If you want me to." Hound held up the wine bottle from which he had been drinking, saw that it was still almost full, and sipped. "The witch told him to lock up his daughter where n.o.body could see her until everybody forgot how ugly she was. So that's what he did. He locked her in a dark, bare room and kept the shutters closed day and night so that n.o.body would see her and brought her food himself, and pretty soon everybody forgot about her except the augur who had christened her. I don't know what her name was, though no doubt the augur did."

"It was Mucor."