Shadow & Claw (The Book of the New Sun #1-2 ) - Gene Wolfe Page 0,1

the coarse hair that fell across its face. Morwenna’s father, I remembered, had been a drover; it was possible this herd was his, though it seemed unlikely. I waited until the last lumbering beast had passed and watched the men ride by. There were three, dusty and common looking, flourishing iron-tipped goads longer than themselves; and with them, their hard, watchful, low-bred dogs.

Inside the inn once more, I ordered breakfast and got bread warm from the oven, newly churned butter, pickled duck’s eggs, and peppered chocolate beaten to a froth. (This last a sure sign, though I did not know it then, that I was among people who drew their customs from the north.) Our hairless gnome of a host, who had no doubt seen me in conversation with the alcalde the night before, hovered over my table wiping his nose on his sleeve, inquiring about the quality of each dish as it was served—though they were all, in truth, very good—promising better food at supper, and condemning the cook, who was his wife. He called me sieur, not because he thought as they sometimes had in Nessus that I was an exultant incognito, but because a torturer here, as the efficient arm of the law, was a great person. Like most peons, he could conceive of no more than one social class higher than his own.

“The bed, it was comfortable? Plenty of quilts? We will bring more.”

My mouth was full, but I nodded.

“Then we shall. Will three be enough? You and the other sieur, are you comfortable together?”

I was about to say that I would prefer separate rooms (I thought Jonas no thief, but I was afraid the Claw might be too much of a temptation for any man, and I was unused, moreover, to sleeping double) when it occurred to me that he might have difficulty paying for a private accommodation.

“You will be there today, sieur? When they break through the wall? A mason could take down the ashlars, but Barnoch’s been heard moving inside and may have strength left. Perhaps he’s found a weapon. Why, he could bite the masons’ fingers, if nothing else!”

“Not in an official capacity. I may watch if I can.”

“Everyone’s coming.” The bald man rubbed his hands, which slithered together as if they had been oiled. “There’s to be a fair, you know. The alcalde announced it. He’s got a good head for business, our alcalde has. You take the average man—he’d see you here in my parlor and never think of a thing. Or at least, no more than to have you put an end to Morwenna. Not ours! He sees things. He sees the possibilities of them. You might say that in the wink of an eye the whole fair sprang up out of his head, colored tents and ribbons, roast meat and spun sugar, all together. Today? Why today we’ll open the sealed house and pull Barnoch out like a badger. That will warm them up, that will draw them for leagues around. Then we’ll watch you do for Morwenna and that country fellow. Tomorrow you’ll begin on Barnoch—hot irons you start with usually, don’t you? And everybody will want to be there. The day after, finish him off and fold the tents. It doesn’t do to let them hang about too long after they’ve spent their money, or they begin to beg and fight and so on. All well planned, all well thought out! There’s an alcalde for you!”

I went out again after breakfast and watched the alcalde’s enchanted thoughts take shape. Countryfolk were stumping into the village with fruits and animals and bolts of home-woven cloth to sell; among them were a few autochthons carrying fur pelts and strings of black and green birds killed with the cerbotana. Now I wished I still had the mantle Agia’s brother had sold me, for my fuligin cloak drew some odd looks. I was about to step inside once more when I heard the quickstep of marching feet, a sound familiar to me from the drilling of the garrison in the Citadel, but which I had not heard since I had left it.

The cattle I had watched earlier that morning had been going down to the river, there to be herded into barges for the remainder of their trip to the abattoirs of Nessus. These soldiers were coming the other way, up from the water. Whether that was because their officers felt the march would toughen them, or because the boats