Sickened, Thrasne could not believe in the love of Potipur. It was with a kind of guilty relief he put Baristown behind him.
Haranjus Pandel, Superior of the Tower of Thou-ne, saw fit to visit the home of the widow Plot. “There’s this law, Widow Plot. You know it, and I know it.” He said this in his usual manner, as one might who is dreadfully bored with the necessity but feels it wise to go through the motions.
Widow Plot, unawed, shook her head at him. “If you’re talking of Peasimy, have a little sense, Superior.”
“He’s thirty years old.”
“He’s thirty in years. He’s four or five in his head, and as far as his wee private parts go, he’s not got enough to bring a blush to a maiden’s cheek. I’ll swear that part of him hasn’t grown since he was born.” She flushed a little saying it, but it had to be said. Gods, hadn’t she said it to her friends, many a time, and hadn’t they breamed it around? Sure Haranjus knew it, just as he knew every other blessed thing that went on in Thou-ne.
“Still, there’s the law.” It didn’t come out with the force Pandel would have wished. He had suddenly remembered several other things about Peasimy that he had known at one time but had conveniently forgotten until that moment.
The widow Plot was no more awed by the law than she was by his presence. “The law says no celibacy, no boy-boying, that’s what the law say, Haranjus Pandel. The law says there must be wedding and bedding and enough children born to keep our numbers strong. That’s what the law says.
And Superior or no, don’t come all over haughty with me, Haranjus. I knew your ma, and I’ve known about you since you were no bigger than Peasimy’s cock. Peasimy’s not celibate, no more than any infant is. And Peasimy’s no boy lover, neither. Peasimy’s an infant, a neuter, no more sex to him than to a blade of grass. So what’s this about the law? You got some ugly, godforsaken maiden you’ve got to get matched up, is that it?”
Haranjus had the grace to blush. He had, as a matter of fact, the daughter of the Merchants’ Guild Hetman to get mated, somehow. She with the face like a song fish and the body like a tub. No matter, face nor figure, so long as she was able to produce. With the constant drain on their numbers, producing was important. And rumor was that human numbers needed to be slightly increased for a … well, for a reason. No way it could be done unless the birth rate went up.
Seeing him redden, she went on relentlessly, “You’d be laughed out of Thou-ne. And if word got back to the Chancery you was wasting your time on such silliness-and I’d see it got there, one way or another-they’d put an end to any hopes you might have. Give it up, Haranjus. Find your ugly girl some other housemate, but give it up so far as Peasimy’s concerned.”
He argued some, but it was only halfhearted, a kind of face saving before he went away with scant courtesies. It had been a silly idea. Everyone in Thou-ne knew Peasimy, and the idea of Peasimy with a wife would strike them all as a mighty funny thing. Compromising to the dignity of the Tower. Meeting the letter of the law, but contrary to its spirit. Besides, it wouldn’t gain the favor of the Merchants’ Hetman, either, if he got no grandkids as part of the deal. Widow Rot was right. Leave it alone.
Behind him in the little house, Widow Rot wiped one or two tears away. Hadn’t she suffered enough? No hope for grand babes. No hope for someone to care for her in her old age. Just Peasimy, sweet as any toddler, and with no more sense. “There, there,” she told herself, cheering a little. “Still, he’s good as a pet any day.”
In the bedroom, Peasimy sprawled in moist, infant sleep as he always did daytimes, unaware of the. Catastrophe that had narrowly missed him, dreaming of a time when all the darkness should be driven away and the light made whole. There were no words in these dreams, only visions in which winged figures moved through radiant space. Dreams, not unlike those dreamed by many, except that Peasimy remembered them whence woke. When he rose, walked, prowled through the dark, splashing light where he could, he always remembered them and longed to be deep in that dream again.