"I haven't traveled, I mean like you have, or Pig. But I've heard something about it."

"It is so. Those, too, are their names; and they have as much right to them as we have to ours. There is also the matter of personality, both the kinds of persons we are at base and the way we seem to others. You have your personality; you are always Hound, whether you are kind or cruel, whether you act well or badly. Pig is always Pig, Oreb-"

"Good bird!"

"Is always Oreb, a good bird just as he says; and I'm always myself. But the immortal gods, whose powers are so much greater than ours, can incorporate many different personalities, and do. This not some special insight of mine, by the way. Merely what I was taught in the schola."

"I see," Hound said again. "You're going to say that when a god uses a new name and a new personality, that's an aspect. Isn't that right, Horn?"

He nodded. "And a new appearance. The god is still Pas, Molpe, or whoever; but this is a view of Pas or Molpe that we haven't been privileged to see before-a new aspect of Pas or Molpe. Now, why has the god called Silk been awarded the epithet Silent?"

"Because he told the Prolocutor that he looked out of the Sacred Windows without showing himself there, like Tartaros. But Tartaros generally turns them black and speaks. Silk said he didn't speak or make the window change at all, pretty often. He just looked on."

"Thank you." He yawned and stretched. "Thank you very much, Hound. Believe me, I appreciate your information more than I can say. Is everyone ready to sleep? I confess I am-more than ready."

"No sleep. Night good!"

"It may or may not be night, Oreb. We have no way of knowing, and certainly no one should feel compelled to sleep who doesn't want to."

Hound said hastily, "You don't have to lie on the bare floor, Horn. I've got a blanket you can lie on. Folded in threes, it'll be a lot more comfortable."

"Thank you," he said. "That's very kind of you; but what we really need is firewood, I'm afraid. It's certainly getting cooler. I'll go outside and look for some, if both of you will promise to remain in here."

Pig prepared to rise. "Be ter wet ter burn, bucky."

"He's right," Hound told him. "You could catch pneumonia if you went out there again, and it would be for nothing."

"Dry, we need, bucky." Laboriously, Pig stood up. "Here's ther lad ter fetch h'it, ter. Dirma yer gae wi'."

"Pig-"

The long sword was only half drawn from its brass-tipped scabbard, but the swift hiss of the steel was like the hiss of a coiler big enough to crush and devour five men at once. Oreb squawked with dismay.

"I wasn't going to try to stop you, Pig-nor was I going to insist on going with you."

"Guid h'on yer, bucky." Pig grinned as the sword shot back into its scabbard. "Get yer rest while auld Pig tears h'up boards ter warm yer."

They sat in silence, watching Pig's broad back vanish into the surrounding gloom; then Hound said, "I'll get that blanket," and proceeded to do so.

"That is your bedding, Hound, and I decline to deprive you of it. I slept in a field night before last."

"I've got another one for myself." Hound smiled. "You ought to know me better than that by now. You'd give another man your only blanket and think nothing of it, I know. But I wouldn't. Neither would Pig."

"Good Pig?" Oreb was puzzled.

"Yes, Oreb. Pig is a good man-an extraordinarily good man, I'm sure. One who might give someone else his only blanket, unless I miss my guess."

Hound looked up from the pack from which he was extracting a second blanket. "Well, most men wouldn't."

"Of course not. That's why I said that Pig, who might, was an extraordinarily good man-among other reasons. It wasn't a tactful thing to say, I suppose, particularly while I was preparing to lie down on a blanket you loaned me; but it wasn't intended as criticism of you-far from it. May I say something personal, Hound? Without giving offense?"

Refolding his blanket, Hound nodded. "I wish you would."

"Very well. If you'd had only one blanket, you might have discovered something extraordinary about yourself. It would've surprised you, I believe; but it wouldn't have surprised me."

Hound did not reply until he had arranged his own blanket before the fire. "You said something personal to me, Horn, and it was ve-y flattering. Can I say something like that to you? You won't think it's flattering, or I don't think you will. I'd rather that you didn't get too angry."

"Watch out!" Oreb exclaimed.

Oreb's master reached out to stroke him, smoothing the glossy black feathers with gentle fingers. "Which of us are you warning, Oreb?"

"You, I'm sure. He thinks I'm going to involve you in some sort of-of plot against Pig. I'm not."

"Good."

"I simply wanted to say that I like you. I like you a lot. So does Tansy. Pig…"

"Yes?"

"Never mind." Hound lay down upon his side, looking at the fire. "I talk too much. It isn't my only fault, but it's the worst one and the hardest to stop. Good night, Horn."

"Please. What you were going to say may be very important. I mean that. You asked my permission to say it, and received it. I want to hear it. I ask it as a favor."

"You said you were going to tell us what the godling told you to do, but you never did. Just that you weren't going to do it. What about that?"

"Did I? It wasn't intentional. If I tell you now, will you tell me what it was you were going to say about Pig? I'm perfectly sincere about its importance to me."

"All right. What was it the godling wanted you to do?"

"Go all over the city announcing that no one else is to leave-that they are to rebuild the tunnels beneath it, and to repair the remaining landers, if they can."

"But not use them?"

"Correct."

Hound waited for him to say more; but he did not, and at length Hound asked, "Did the godling tell you why?"

"In order that the Whorl can be re-launched. I confess I don't understand how such a thing is possible, but then I don't understand how it was launched originally either."

There was a second lengthy silence, which lasted until Hound ventured, "It's the will of the gods, I suppose."

"Perhaps it is. The godling didn't say so, but it may be-it's quite probable."

Oreb croaked; it was difficult to tell whether it was a croak of sympathy or a croak of skepticism.

"Aren't you going to do it, Horn? That's what you said."

"I know." Stretched on his back upon the borrowed blanket, he fingered his beard. "I said it because it's true. I'm not. I won't repeat what I said before, except to add that size and strength confer no moral authority. A strong man-Pig, for instance-may compel us to obey him; but we're entitled to resist if we can."

"No fight!" Oreb advised.

"Tell it to the strong man. You're a wise bird and a good talker, but you're talking to the wrong person."

"But the gods…" Hound's voice faded away.

"The gods possess moral authority, granted. Great Pas, particularly, possesses it; and in fact the rest have it only because he accords it to them. If a god were to-but if is a children's word. No god has spoken to me. What were you about to say about Pig?"

"Horn…"

He could not see Hound's face from where he lay, or much of anything other than Blood's domed and painted ceiling, writhing figures less than half illuminated by the flickering firelight; but Hound sounded alarmed.

"Horn, you ought to at least consider obeying, even so. I mean, a godling… They don't talk to us much, but most people accept that they're relaying the gods' orders whenever they do. Everybody I know does. Didn't you promise?"

"Good Silk!" Oreb announced loyally.

"No, I didn't. The godling issued its orders and I asked some questions and nodded. That's as far as it went."