"If yer'd come h'in…" The long, brass-tipped scabbard stirred, scraping the hearthstone.

There was a long silence, broken by Hound. "You said you'd tell us what the godling told you."

"So I did. It's bad news for you, I'm afraid; and bad news for me as well. I should tell you first, however, that I haven't the least intention of doing what I was instructed to do."

"You're going to disobey it?"

"I am indeed. What right has it to expect obedience from me?" Again he felt the pelting rain, the freezing wind that had driven it like sleet, and the faint warmth of the huge hand. He opened his eyes. "It is not a rhetorical question, Hound. Pig, I ask it of you, too. What gives that godling-or any other-a moral right to our obedience? You've been here for the past twenty years, as I have not. Answer me if you can."

"They speak for the gods." Hound sounded more diffident than ever.

"They say they do, perhaps; but the one who spoke to me didn't even bother to say it. I might add that augurs often make the same assertion, on dubious grounds."

"Holdin' yer, wasn't h'it, bucky? Could a' killed yer."

"That's correct. I was seated on the palm of its hand, and if I had jumped, I might've been badly hurt."

"Be dead, bucky."

"I doubt it. The distance from his palm to the ground must have been two or three times my height-approximately the fall Silk suffered when he drove through Hyacinth's window. Do you know about that, either of you?"

Hound said, "No."

"I won't bore you with the details, but Silk jumped out of her window and landed on flagstones, breaking his ankle. If I'd jumped from the godling's hand, I would've landed on wet ground. That might have been almost as bad-I doubt very much, however, that it could have been worse."

"S'pose h'it'd shut h'its han' h'on yer?"

Oreb squawked in dismay.

"I would've been crushed, no doubt. Still, I doubt that it could have. They move slowly. Even in the short time I talked with it, I couldn't help noticing that. Each of its fingers must weigh as much as you do. If that's correct, closing its hand entails moving the weight of four very large men."

" "Bucky…

He chuckled. "Oreb told me a big man was behind the house. I thought he meant you, and Hound and I had been worried about you, so I went with him. Afterward-while I was sitting in the handI was inclined to be angry with him for saying big man instead of godling, giant, or something of that kind that would've told me what I was to encounter. Then I realized that to him we're as gigantic as a godling is to us-that Oreb sees little difference between a large man like you and a larger one like the godling because there really isn't much, from his standpoint. What could a godling do to him that you couldn't?"

"Would nae hurt yer, H'oreb," Pig rumbled.

"No. But neither would the godling. You and Hound thought I was very brave for talking to it as I did-"

"I still think it," Hound announced.

"But Oreb's being just as brave every time he perches on my wrist and talks with me. A wild bird wouldn't do that, and I can't blame it in the least…" The birds suggested trees, immense trees like mountains and graceful fern-foliaged trees that swayed in every breeze and burned like incense; the trees, islands and continents, and smiling lakes, deep blue seas, and storm-tossed oceans.

"What yer thinkin' h'about, bucky?"

"The three whorls. Two large and low, by which I mean near the Short Sun. This one near the stars. I don't know whether Green's bigger than Blue, or Blue's bigger than Green; but both are much bigger than this whorl we're in, the Long Sun Whorl. When we came to Blue, we scarcely noticed that. I didn't notice it at all, in fact, and doubt that many of us did. Both this whorl and that one were very large places to us, and that was all that mattered; yet I would guess that Blue is ten or twenty times larger-that there's more difference in size between Blue and this whorl than between the godling and ourselves. In this whorl, Pas took care to separate us with rivers and mountain ranges. On Blue there isn't much need for that. Distance itself makes us keep our distance." He closed his eyes again, seeing league upon league of open water, and feeling the gentle rocking of his sloop.

"Horn? You said you had bad news for us. What is it?"

"Not for Pig-at least, I don't believe so. For you and me, Hound. You wanted to take your family to Green after your child was born. So it sounded. Have you changed your mind?"

"No. I-no."

"Then it's bad news, as I said. For me, too, because I must find Silk and take him home with me, and that means we must find a Lander in working order and places on it. The godling told me it has been decided-I don't know by whom-that enough people have left the Whorl now, and everyone who's still on board is to remain aboard."

Oreb whistled sharply.

"It came as a shock to me, as you may imagine, and I'm by no means certain it conforms to the will of Pas. When Patera Silk and the sleeper he had awakened went down to the surface of the whorl where the landers are, he saw the inscription Pas had caused to be cut into the steps. It read, `He who descends serves Pas best.' My understanding has always been that everyone-the entire population of the whorl-is to leave it."

"Nae mair, bucky?"

"Correct. At least, according to the godling. Everyone in the Whorl is to remain. They hope to repair it." Closing his eyes again, he added softly, "That was what Echidna and Hierax wanted. It would seem they have won after all, although the godling claimed to be speaking for Patera Silk."

"Don't you think that it might be the divine Silk issuing these orders, Horn?"

He sat up a second time, eyes wide. "What did you say?"

"The minor god that augurs call Silent Silk? Or Silver Silk?" Hound cleared his throat. "I don't know much about your religious beliefs, Pig…"

"Nae me," Pig told him. "'Fraid ter get me wind h'up? H'all pals. Right, H'oreb?"

"Good Silk!"

Hound said, "He really is," then added hastily, "not that they all aren't. There are no bad gods. I know that."

"You're telling me that there's a god called Silk?"

"Why, yes." Hound drew his jacket more tightly about him, and edged a finger's breadth nearer the dying fire. "I thought you must know about him. You're looking for Calde Silk, and I suppose Calde Silk must have been named for him, since it's a name people can use, too. Men, I mean, or boys. It's sort of a stretch, not like Hound or Horn or Pig. But Wool's a common name." Hound fell silent, clearly afraid he was offending one or both his companions.

"Good name! Good Silk!"

"Be quiet, Oreb. Hound, I'd like to know a great deal more about this god named Silk. I haven't been here, remember."

"I shouldn't have brought him up." Hound was clearly sorry he had.

"Like ter know ter," Pig rumbled. "Yer said h'it Nought ter be Silk's tellin'? Why sae?"

"Well, because the godling spoke to Horn, that's all, and Horn's looking for Calde Silk and… and it seems like there's some connection, doesn't it? Because the names are the same."

He asked, "Why do the augurs call him Silent Silk and Silver Silk, Hound? Do you know?"

"I think so. But there's a disagreement about him. I should tell you that in case you talk to other people about him. Did I call him a minor god?"

"Yes, you did."

Oreb snapped his bill in protest.

"Well, some people don't agree with that. They say he's not a minor god at all, that he's an aspect of Pas. I don't understand aspects."

Pig stirred impatiently. "S'pose he was ter gae 'round callin' himself somethin', sae folk wadna know."

Hound nodded. "I see."

"I don't like to disagree, Pig," he said, "and hesitate to in a matter of no importance. But what you're describing is a mere lie, not an aspect. The gods are known by foreign names in many foreign cities, Hound. Are you aware of it?"