"I'll address your concerns in a few minutes," he said. "They can wait, believe me. Go on, Pig."

"Somethin' tetched me." Pig sounded as though he had forgotten anyone was listening. "Had me een."

"Yes. Of course."

"Touched me shoulders an' me head, like h'it were standin' behind. Looked h'around. Wasn't nae thing there."

"And then…?"

"Felt h'it, bucky. What yer said. Wanted ter feel h'it h'allways, but nae felt h'it nae mair."

"And you were changed, somewhat, after that. You found yourself doing things that surprised you."

"Aye."

From his shoulder, Oreb muttered, "Good Silk."

"This has been a shriving, Pig. I didn't announce it but it has been. I'm a layman, as I said; but a layman may shrive when there is need. I'd like you to kneel now. I know you don't like to, but you shouldn't withhold from the Outsider-it was he who touched you from behind, I'm sure-the obeisance you pay so many doors. Will you kneel?"

"Think he might gi'e back me een?"

"I have no idea. Will you kneel?"

Pig did.

"Good. That was the worst hurdle, the one I feared we could not get over." A swift gesture sent Hound to the front of the manteion. "Now say what I say. Cleanse me, friend."

Dutifully, Pig repeated it.

"You don't like to say I, do you, Pig? I mean the pronoun, not the aye that signifies assent. Is it a superstition?"

"Dinna sound weel h'in ther light lands," Pig muttered.

"Impolite? Then you may say, `for the Outsider and other gods have been offended by me.' After that you must recount to me everything you have done that was seriously wrong, other than the looting and murder you have already described. Oreb, you must stay with Hound until I call you both."

At the rear of the manteion, Hound had watched the kneeling Pig (so huge that even on his knees he was nearly as tall as the erect man in the worn brown tunic) until embarrassment rendered it impossible.

"Man talk," Oreb explained, lighting on the back of the pew in front of Hound's. "Talk Silk." He whistled to emphasize the importance of that talk, and added, "Bird go. Go Hound."

Hound nodded absently. Statues of the Nine still stood in niches along the walls. Who was that with the owl, he wondered? Some were only minor gods, he felt certain. Since there were more than nine statues, they had to be. He had always dismissed the minor gods as unimportant; for the first time it occurred to him that he was unimportant as well, and the important gods like Echidna (over there, holding up a viper in each hand) might concern themselves with important men and things. "Echidna, and Molpe with the thrush. But who's that with the doves?"

"Man talk," Oreb repeated in a different context.

"To myself," Hound said. "I was trying to name these gods, that's all."

One of the murmuring voices at the front of the manteion rose to intelligibility. "Then I bring to you, Pig, the pardon of the gods. In the name of the Outsider, you are forgiven. In the names of Great Pas and Silver Silk, you are forgiven. And in the name of all lesser gods you are forgiven, by the power entrusted to me." A quick gesture described the sign of addition over Pig's bowed head.

Hound went to rejoin them, watching the huge Pig rise and straighten his shoulders. When Pig's blind face turned toward the noise of his shoes on the cracked stone floor, he said, "I didn't hear any of that. I think I ought to tell you so, Pig. I tried not to hear, and I didn't. I was way at the back, and you both spoke softly."

"H'all right h'ifyer did," Pig said. "'Struth, bucky?"

"Why, no." He shook his head. "Neither of you are correct. Hound, you heard a part of what Pig said about looting the town in the Mountains That Look at Mountains. You also heard me say that what Pig had told me was part of a shriving, although it had not been so announced at the time."

Hound nodded.

"You may be concerned about your duty as a citizen and a member of the Chapter. Nevertheless, you must understand where your duty lies. Whenever anyone, whether an augur, a sibyl, or a layperson, overhears part of a shriving by accident, that person is honor bound to reveal nothing that he-or she-has heard. He is not to hint at it or allude to it in any way. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes." Hound nodded again. "You certainly are."

"Then let me say this. I've said it already to Pig, but I want to say it to you. You know, just as Pig and I do, what was said earlier; and we're none of us children. For an augur to die before his Sacred Window, and particularly for him to die by a steel blade as sacrifices die, is a great honor. It is the death every augur yearns for. I don't intend to imply that it isn't wrong to kill an augur under those circumstances; but when an augur dies in such a manner, other augurs and many pious laymen must wonder whether that death was not arranged by Hierax, as a reward."

Pig said, "Hierax is dead."

Hound stared at him.

"I see. I didn't know that, though I surmised that it might be the case. No doubt it's for the best."

"Horn?"

He nodded. "Yes. What is it?"

"Before we leave-" Hound began. "Are you worried about getting into the city late? You said you wouldn't go to the Juzgado till tomorrow."

"I would like to revisit the quarter in which I used to live this afternoon. But no, I'm not. Not unless whatever you're about to propose will take hours."

"Fifteen minutes or half an hour, I hope. While…"

Thick with muscle and armed with thick black nails, Pig's hand engulfed Hound's shoulder. "H'out wi' h'it, mon. H'all pals."

Hound nodded gratefully. "While I was back there in the back, I was trying to name the gods. The… These images." He indicated them by a gesture. "You know a lot about them. I've seen that already. Tansy saw it, too. Anyway, I couldn't, or only a few. I was hoping you'd take me around and talk a little about each of them? It would give me something to tell Tansy. And Mother. I'd like it myself, too, if it would be all right with Pig."

"Silk talk?" Oreb fixed him with a bright black eye.

"Ho, aye. Do h'it, bucky. Like ter hear yer meself."

"Very well." He glanced around at the images set into the walls. "Where do you want me to begin?"

"Well, that one." Hound pointed to the nearest. "It's Phaea, isn't it?"

"Yes, you're quite correct. Phaea's one of the Seven, Pas's fourth daughter. Now that think of it, we couldn't have begun at a more appropriate place, since we hope to find new eyes for a man called Pig, and I'm carrying seed corn to Blue. Feasting Phaea's the goddess of healing, and of foodstuffs generally. She presides over banquets and infirmaries alike. You can generally recognize her images by the boar at her side."

"Yes," Hound said eagerly. "That's how I got it."

"Then I ought to add that when the boar is absent Phaea is customarily shown holding a young pig, that when the piglet is omitted as well you may know her by her thick waist, and that she is the generous patroness of cooks and physicians. Is that sufficient?"

Hound nodded. "I couldn't get this next one at all. Who is she?"

"Let me ter feel a' her." Pig's thick fingers brushed the top and sides of the image and explored the area about its feet. "Wearin' a helmet, hain't she bucky?"

"Yes, she is. A helmet with a low crest." He bent closer examining the statue. "I was about to say that the customary lion was absent, which was why you were unable to identify her, Hound-but that isn't actually the case. She wears a medallion with a lion's head, though it is too small to be distinguished at any distance. Pig, who has been a trooper, knew her by her helmet, of course; but I believe he feared-needlessly-that I might take offense if he named her before I did. She is Sphigx, the youngest of the Nine."

Hound stepped nearer to look at the medallion. "I'm glad she's still here. A lot of her statures were smashed when we were fighting Trivigaunte."