In the center of the square stood the remains of a fountain, with figures in the middle of some sort of animals, four of them facing four directions. The waters of the fountain trickled darkly from their mouths and down their bodies, leaving a dark stain, like blood. Soter was seated upon the edge of it with the cases beside him. His head was down, arms resting upon his thighs and his hands holding a cup between them. The stones of the street between the ramps and the fountain were pitted and cracked. Some were shattered or missing altogether, and difficult to walk on.
At their approach Soter glanced up, then lowered his head again, as if they weren’t what he’d been waiting for.
The fountain did contain wine, although if she’d stood in it, it wouldn’t have reached her ankles. It looked black, but Leodora remembered the stories he had told her and knew that it wasn’t. It seemed that at least one part of the myth was true. Small earthenware cups like the one he held dotted the lip of it.
She and Diverus flanked him and sat. Without looking up he said, “It didn’t used to be like this. When Bardsham came, they had banners flying. A welcoming crowd. They knew us, they cheered us. This place was alive.”
His words slurred appreciably. This was not his first cup of wine. She asked, “What’s happened then?”
“Blight,” he said. He gestured with the cup toward an open stall selling vegetables and fruits. She noticed that his hand was trembling as if the cup was heavy. “I asked there, and they told me,” he said. “Terrible. Cut a path the length of the span, years ago, but the place has never recovered. Chaos. The richness is gone, washed away. Your father and me, we entered this very square once in triumph, and it was everything I said it was, a confection of a span. Good days, those. Good days.”
She didn’t understand what he meant—his description of the maelstrom made it sound as if something like a water spout had descended and smashed across the span. Chaos—he used that word too freely to account for too much. He blamed everything on chaos, as if it dogged him wherever he went. He seemed inordinately affected by the state of Colemaigne.
“So, what do we do? We’re here and we’re surely not climbing aboard that boat again and going back.”
“Back? Gods, no. Not an option, going back. Anyway, it’s not blighted everywhere, according to them, or not so badly anyway. There’s another square on the opposite side, a mirror to this one. We can look. Things are better over there, they said. The whole span might not be so bad. Depends on how far…how deep.” He lost himself in some thought then, but came out of it quickly. “And it’s early, you know, barely past dawn, so there’s not much of a crowd out yet.” In fact there was nobody anywhere save for the two vendors behind their stall. He twisted about and dipped his cup. “The fountains still run, I’m pleased to say.”
For once she was inclined to let him have his fill, although his rambling about the blight upon Colemaigne told her very little. It was a span that had been great but had fallen upon hard times since he’d last seen it. Between that and the small stand selling produce, she thought again of Ningle. Someone brought the produce, someone caught the fish. She understood better than anyone the complicated processes that no one saw—and no one cared, so long as what they wanted was available.
“The other side, then,” she suggested. “It’s not that far, is it?”
“Not far,” he agreed. He stood, an unsteady moment. Prominent veins mapped his left calf and, although she’d noticed them before, it was only now she appreciated that he was an old man, strong and proud and unwilling to bend, but old nevertheless. Perhaps it was the remaining magic of this span, or the result of meeting with another divine adviser, but she seemed to be experiencing an array of epiphanies today. She found herself feeling affectionate toward him despite everything that pitted them against each other time and again. She got up and kissed his cheek. Diverus could not have looked more shocked, while Soter’s bewilderment had to swim through the muddle of his brain.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s see the rest of Colemaigne. We have to find somewhere to