"Here is his letter," she said, and showed it to me. I cannot reproduce it here, because I cannot recall the precise phrasing. Suffice it to say that he addressed her as "my darling," with other endearments, and that he asked her to distribute the gifts he listed, and authorized her to retain what remained for herself.

"We were friends for years, and after his wife died there was nobody but me. If it hadn't been for me, he would never have got to be what he did." She sighed; she has eyes the color of a blue china plate in a large, round face, and at the moment it held no more expression than the plate. "He'd still be with us." I asked her to explain, but she would not. "There's no mending it. You were a friend of his?"

"He was the chief of the committee of five who sent me for Patera Silk, and he certainly befriended me afterward."

"The one who was calde when we left?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Did you bring him?"

I shook my head. "I tried, and failed. Please understand meI'm not looking for a reward. I'm entitled to none. But I have the seed corn we needed and would like to turn it over to someone who will make good use of it. I had supposed that when I returned I would make my report to Marrow. Learning that he had passed away, I tried to report to Gyrfalcon. I was unable to see him, and it occurred to me that Marrow might have left instructions for me, some message."

"Do you need money? I might let you have a little." She rose with the help of a thick black stick and went to a cabinet.

"No. I've more than enough for my needs, and my family's."

I had risen because she had; she motioned for me to resume my seat. "What was your name again?"

"Horn."

"I see."

"We live on Lizard-Marrow and the others came there the first time we talked."

She said nothing. She is a large woman, quite stout, with a small mouth and a great deal of white hair.

"I should not have gone. I know that now. At the time I thought it my duty."

"What were you going to make from it?"

"Money?" I shook my head. "I didn't expect any, though I would have taken it if it had been offered, I suppose. But you're right, there was something I wanted-I wanted to see Silk again, and speak with him."

"Do you need a handkerchief?"

She produced one, small and trimmed with lace, and I was reminded poignantly of the big, masculine-looking handkerchiefs Maytera Marble used to carry in her sleeves. I shook my head again and wiped my eyes. "It's the wind, I suppose, or too much writing. I've been writing a lot, mostly by lamplight."

"That's where I write letters." She pointed to a little damaskwood desk. "See how the light from the window falls?"

I acknowledge that it seemed a good arrangement.

"Only I don't write a lot of them. You could come here and use it sometime if you wanted to."

I thanked her, and asked again whether she had found any mention of me in Marrow's papers.

"There's a lot of stuff." Her eyes were vague. "I haven't gone through everything yet. I'll look. Maybe you could come back tomorrow?"

"Yes, I'd be happy to."

"You're sure you wouldn't like something to eat?"

"No, but it's very kind of you."

"I would." She rang a bell. "If there's something for you, I'll have to make sure you're really Horn."

I nodded and assured that I understood her caution and applauded it.

"You must have been just a sprat on the lander."

I admitted it, adding that I had thought myself a man.

"Seems like a real long time ago to you. It don't to me. I must be, oh, a couple years older. I'd like to give you some money, too. But I have to know."

"I don't need it, as I told you; but as for identification, my brother Calf lives here. He'll vouch for me, I'm sure."

A slave girl entered, bowing. Capsicum told her to serve tea and to send in "the boy."

When the slave girl had gone, Capsicum unlocked her cabinet and got out two cards. "Real ones, like we used to have back home. The Chapter will give you four gold ones for each of these."

She seemed to expect me to challenge her assertion, so I said, "Patera Remora, you mean? I feel sure he won't, since they're not mine."

A boy of about ten joined us, and she introduced him as her grandson. "You have to go to the shop of a man named Calf, Weasel. This gentleman will tell you how to get there. Ask Calf to come here, please, and identify the gentleman for me. The gentleman says Calf is his brother."

My knowledge of these streets is somewhat limited, but I directed Weasel to the best of my ability and he nodded as though he understood. "Do you have a magic bird?"

I laughed and tried to explain that I had a pet bird, not a magic one. To confess the truth, I had not the heart to tell the little fellow there were no magic birds.

"Where is it?"

"I sent him to my wife, to let her know that our son Hoof is returning to her, and that the rest of us-our son Hide and his betrothed, and our daughter and I-will return to her soon."

Capsicum smiled at the prospect of a wedding. "Marrow'd have married me after his wife died, but I wouldn't let him."

I said I was sorry to hear it.

"Get along, Weasel. You go and ask the gentleman to come like we told you to, this don't concern you. We would've fought like a old dog and a old cat, Patera. I've never been sorry I said no."

"I'm not an augur. I realized that this is an augur's robe, but I'm not."

"You've got a wife, you said."

"Yes, I do. Augurs have wives, occasionally, however."

"Patera Silk did. I heard that before we left."

The slave girl came in, staggering under the weight of a tray loaded with tea and wine, cups, saucers, and wineglasses, and enough little sandwiches and cakes to feed a palaestra. I drank tea (and to please Capsicum a glass of wine) and ate a sandwich, which was excellent.

We talked about Viron for a time. I told her about the devastation that was the Sun Street Quarter, which she had supposed would have been rebuilt long since. "I don't think I'd have come, Patera, if it hadn't been for that. I had a nice place, the whole top floor in a real nice house, and my rent paid for half a year. Only it burned, and I thought, he's going away and I've lost everything, and if I don't go with him I'll lose him too. So I went."

She toyed with the cards she had taken from her cabinet, then laid them down; clearly they recalled Viron, and the rooms there she had lost. "Why are people so mean?"

"Because they separate themselves from the Outsider." I had not thought about it in those terms before and said what I did without reflection; but as soon as I had spoken, I realized that what I had said was true.

"Who's that?" she asked.

"A god." I was suddenly afraid of saying too much, of pushing too hard or too far.

"Just a god?" She took another sandwich.

"Isn't that enough for you, Capsicum? Godhead?"

"Well, there's a lot of them, and sometimes it seems like they're as mean as we are."

"Because they, too, have separated themselves from him. Nor are there really many gods, or even two. Insofar as they're gods at allwhich isn't far, in most cases-they are him."

"I don't follow that." She seemed genuinely puzzled.

"You have a walking stick. Suppose it could walk by itself, and that it chose to walk away from you."

She laughed; and I understood what had drawn Marrow to her years ago; she did not laugh for effect, as women nearly always do, but as a child or a man might.

"You see," I said, "if the Outsider were to make a walking stick, it would be such a good walking stick that it could do that." I held up the staff Cugino had cut for me. "But if it chose to walk away from him, instead of coming to him when he called to it, it would no longer be a walking stick at all, only a stick that walked. And when someone tending a fire saw it go past, he would break it and toss it onto the coals."