The Rite of Spring: The Fourth of the Eye

The Rite of Spring: Fragment 31

The Fourth of the Eye
in which the Spymaster of the Eye meets with his Assassin

Morning is cold, these days, for my aging bones, so that the Rite of Calling Up loses its pleasure. I have had enough years listening to Bre Coirm chant out of key, and Bre Dochart's inability to hold the tune at all. I have had enough years of seeing the self satisfied smirk on Bre Urquir's face, since I became too old to climb the steps. I sometimes think that it is a mad God who gives such power to the owner of a strong pair of legs, and not to the wisdom of years. But it was a bright morning, that morning, and clear, and the view from the roof of the tower delighted me. A soft, silvery mist was rising from the fields beyond the wall, giving a hazy glow to the rising orb of the Eye as we called it up. Looking the other way, the great cliffs of the High Place were picked out in a sharp, apricot coloured light, so that the formal line of the thousand steps, so slight and thin against the great walls of the God's home, glowed as if made of gold.

My eye scanned the line of the lesser houses, along the river. Yes, one, two, three, four, five: the flags of supplication were flying from the Houses of the Foot, the Hand, the Mouth, the Ear and the Cock - the Cock! Never in my time before had the Cock been so bold as to request an audience. I wondered idly what stick had stirred their ants nests. Well, I would know before it was time for the Rite of calling back. I have enough Eyes watching the Ear and the Hand. In the meantime, it was enough for me to see those flags. Trouble among the lesser Houses is always a pleasure to the Eye.

At last the orb of the Eye stood clear and round in the eastern sky, and the chant came to an end. In my turn, I made a deep and gracious obeisance to Bre Urquir, and processed down the tower stair, and thus in due course to my cell.

And in my cell was Bre Skiary. I admit I do not feel altogether comfortable when Skiary is around, although it would not do to let him see it. But on that occasion, I was more than pleased to see him. I did not wish him to see that, either. Skiary is a good Eye - perhaps my best - but he is dangerous, and not easy to handle. He was lying back in my only chair, dressed in the heavy, wide sleeved coat of a barbarian merchant, all garish colours.

"Ah, Skiary", I greeted him. "So you have chosen to return at last. I trust our business is concluded satisfactorily?"

He leaned back further, and grinned at me from slitted eyes.

"Not concluded, old one, not yet concluded. But... it progresses most amusingly."

This last concerned me a little. Skiary's amusements can be messy, and I fear that with time he may become indiscreet. Trying to keep the sharpness out of my tone, I said

"Skiary, Skiary - not another of your little accidents, I hope?"

Skiary continued to grin, shaking his head idly.

"No, no, not that amusing, not yet. But..."

- his eyes were almost closed -

"have you seen the bunting on the river bank? One might almost think they were holding a festival."

So, I thought. "Ah yes, I had seen something of the sort. But how does that relate to the task I set you?"

Skiary's eyes seemed to close entirely, as if he were sleeping. His grin became lazier. I was not taken in - I knew I was closely watched.

"That young woman our friends outside were interested in... you, know, the one we were to help along her way..." his voice faded out altogether. I waited.

"And that little House - oh, that most in-sig-nificant little House, so far north it almost falls out of the upriver gate..."

I waited again, concealing my impatience. What had the House of the Cock to do with this? Surely they, of all people, were not meddling in barbarian wars. Not unless... perhaps the unspeakable mother worshippers were getting their pimps to work for them?

At last Skiary went on.

"Well, it seems that the poor young thing - her edu-cation being most sadly lacking - made a most un-for-tunate slip rrregarding the corrrect way to descrrribe the Deity, do you follow me?"

Skiary was almost purring. I did not fully understand, then, what he implied, but I was not going to let him see that. I merely nodded, as if abstracted.

"Well... it seems that the Deity felt it was in-cum-bent upon her-self to rrremedy the de-fi-cien-cy, you'rrre still with me..? But without, I believe, fully app-re-ciat-ing the... shall we say... exo-po-lit-ical imp-li-cations..."

I must confess that I was by now wholly uncomprehending of what it was that Skiary was trying to tell me, but fortunately he was enjoying himself too much to notice.

"So, in herrr divine om-ni-science and with in-fall-ible judge-ment... the Deity... deterrr-min-ed that she should be given over to that un-men-tion-able little House..."

- the pause stretched out longer than ever -

"to ce-le-brrrate the Rrrite of... the Plough..."

Ah. So... Ah, so... Ah so! I saw it, and it was beautiful. It was a situation which could be played so many ways, and all to the benefit of the Elder House. The Ear had slipped badly... then there was the little matter of the Guard...

"Do the Guard know of this?"

I asked, sharply.

"The Guard could... come... to know of it."

So they could. So they could... It might be hard to put the cork back in that bottle, though.

"Not yet, I think. But as I recall, the House in question is not so very secure?"

"One could get into it... I think... without un-due diff-i-cult-y... or out... if it was de-sir-ed..."

I had no doubt that he could.

"Very well. I believe that we should let matters progress a little as they will just a little bit longer, for the better consternation of the little people, I think. But you will take steps to prevent anything which our friends beyond the Rim might regard as unfortunate - even if there has to be a regrettable accident."

Skiary was nodding lazily. I repeated, to make it perfectly clear:

"at all costs, you will prevent anything which our friends would regard as unfortunate."

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