I can’t remember what her name was, but she was truly beautiful, the way the quietest are sometimes. I never knew up till then that Fechin knew her, but he asked me to wait, and I sat down on the first step in front of the gate.”

Someone heavier than the boy was walking overhead, toward the ladder.

“He wasn’t inside long, but when he came out, with the girl looking out the window, I knew what they had done. I looked at him, and he spread those long, thin, monkey arms. How could he share what he’d had? In the end, he made the girl give me half a loaf of bread and some fruit. He drew my picture on one side of the paper and the girl’s on the other, but he kept the pictures.”

The ladder creaked, and I turned to look. As I had expected, a woman was descending it. She was not tall, but full-figured and narrow-waisted; her gown was nearly as ragged as the boy’s mother’s, and much dirtier. Rich brown hair spilled down her back. I think I recognized her even before she turned and I saw the high cheekbones and her long, brown eyes — it was Agia. “So you knew I was here all along,” she said.

“I might make the same remark to you. You seem to have been here before me.”

“I only guessed that you would be coming this way. As it happened, I arrived a little before you, and I told the mistress of this house what you would do to me if she did not hide me,” she said. (I supposed she wished me to know she had an ally here, if only a feeble one.)

“You’ve been trying to kill me ever since I glimpsed you in the crowd at Saltus.”

“Is that an accusation? Yes.”

“You’re lying.”

It was one of the few times I have ever seen Agia caught off balance. “What do you mean?”

“Only that you were trying to kill me before Saltus.”

“With the avern. Yes, of course.”

“And afterward. Agia, I know who Hethor is.”

I waited for her to reply, but she said nothing.

“On the day we met, you told me there was an old sailor who wanted you to live with him. Old and ugly and poor, you called him, and I could not understand why you, a lovely young woman, should even consider his offer when you were not actually starving. You had your twin to protect you, and a little money coming in from the shop.”

It was my turn to be surprised. She said, “I should have gone to him and mastered him. I have mastered him now.”

“I thought you had only promised yourself to him, if he would kill me.”

“I have promised him that and many other things, and so mastered him. He is ahead of you, Severian, waiting word from me.”

“With more of his beasts? Thank you for the warning. That was it, wasn’t it? He had threatened you and Agilus with the pets he had brought from other spheres.”

She nodded. “He came to sell his clothes, and they were the kind worn on the old ships that sailed beyond the world’s rim long ago, and they weren’t costumes or forgeries or even tomb-tender old garments that had lain for centuries in the dark, but clothes not far from new. He said his ships — all those ships — became lost in the blackness between the suns, where the years do not turn. Lost so that even Time cannot find them.”

“I know,” I said. “Jonas told me.”

“After I learned that you would kill Agilus, I went to him. He is iron-strong in some ways, weak in many others. If I had withheld my body I could have done nothing with him, but I did all the queer things he wished me to, and made him believe I love him. Now he will do anything I ask. He followed you for me after you killed Agilus; with his silver I hired the men you killed at the old mine, and the creatures he commands will kill you for me yet, if I don’t do it here myself.”

“You meant to wait until I slept, and then come down and murder me, I suppose.”

“I would have waked you first, when I had my knife at your throat. But the child told me you knew I was here, and I thought this might be more pleasant. Tell me though — how did you guess about Hethor?”

A breath of wind stirred through the narrow windows. It made the fire smoke, and I heard the old man, who sat there in silence once more, cough, and spit onto the coals. The little boy, who had climbed down from the loft while Agia and I talked, watched us with large, uncomprehending eyes.

“I should have known it long before,” I said. “My friend Jonas had been just such a sailor. You will remember him, I think — you glimpsed him at the mine mouth, and you must have known of him.”

“We did.”

“Perhaps they were from the same ship. Or perhaps it was only that each would have known the other by some sign, or that Hethor at least feared they would. However that may be, he seldom came near me when I was traveling with Jonas, though he had been so eager to be in my company before. I saw him in the crowd when I executed a woman and a man at Saltus, but he did not try to join me there. On the way to the House Absolute, Jonas and I saw him behind us, but he did not come running up until Jonas had ridden off, though he must have been desperate to get back his notule. When he was thrown into the antechamber of the House Absolute, he made no attempt to sit with us, even though Jonas was nearly dead; but something that left a trail of slime was searching the place when we left it.”

Agia said nothing, and in her silence she might have been the young woman I had seen on the morning of the day after I left our tower unfastening the gratings that had guarded the windows of a dusty shop.

“You two must have lost my trail on the way to Thrax,” I continued, “or been delayed by some accident. Even after you discovered we were in the city, you must not have known that I had charge of the Vincula, because Hethor sent his creature of fire prowling the streets to find me. Then, somehow, you found Dorcas at the Duck’s Nest—”

“We were lodging there ourselves,” Agia said. “We had only arrived a few days before, and we were out looking for you when you came. Afterward when I realized that the woman in the little garret room was the mad girl you had found in the Botanic Gardens, we still didn’t guess it was you who had put her there, because that hag at the inn said the man had worn common clothes. But we thought she might know where you were, and that she would be more apt to talk to Hethor. His name isn’t really Hethor, by the way. He says it’s a much older one, that hardly anyone has heard of now.”

“He told Dorcas about the fire creature,” I said, “and she told me. I had heard of the thing before, but Hethor had a name for it — he called it a salamander. I didn’t think anything of it when Dorcas mentioned it, but later I remembered that Jonas had a name for the black thing that flew after us outside the House Absolute. He called it a notule, and said the people on the ships had named them that because they betrayed themselves with a gust of warmth. If Hethor had a name for the fire creature, it seemed likely that it was a sailor’s name too, and that he had something to do with the creature itself.”

Agia smiled thinly. “So now you know all, and you have me where you want me — provided you can swing that big blade of yours in here.”

“I have you without it. I had you beneath my foot at the mine mouth, for that matter.”

“But I still have my knife.”

At that moment the boy’s mother came through the doorway, and both of us paused. She looked in astonishment from Agia to me; then, as though no surprise could pierce her sorrow or alter what she had to do, she closed the door and lifted the heavy bar into place.

Agia said, “He heard me upstairs, Casdoe, and made me come down. He intends to kill me.”

“And how am I to prevent that?” the woman answered wearily. She turned to me. “I hid her because she said you meant her harm. Will you kill me too?”

“No. Nor will I kill her, as she knows.”

Agia’s face distorted with rage, as the face of another lovely woman, molded by Fechin himself perhaps in colored wax, might have been transformed with a gout of flame, so that it simultaneously melted and burned. “You killed Agilus, and you gloried in it! Aren’t I as fit to die as he was? We were the same flesh!” I had not fully believed her when she said she was armed with a knife, but without my having seen her draw it, it was out now — one of the crooked daggers of Thrax.