“How did you allow this to happen, Pandel? Her Reverence is in a fury over it, I’ll tell you. Bad enough to have no workers in Thou-ne, without having a miracle here as well.”
The Superior nodded, sweating a little. He had never aspired to the Payment. Indeed, he had never aspired to be Supervisor of a Tower, but then, no one with aspirations would have taken the job in Thou-ne. The mountains to the east prevented any traffic from the next township that way. This meant there was^ little enough need for Awakeners in Thou-ne, and little enough to do for the few there were. The Tower was small, cramped, and needed only one recruit every decade or so. Since there were no workers, there was no fieldwork, road or jetty building. All the Tower really had to see to was the transport of Thune’s dead to the worker pit in Alter, next town west, and since Thou-ne itself was small, there was little work in that. Haranjus had been content to be what he was, letting happen what happened, and in general the people of Thou-ne had approved his stewardship. Now he sweated more than a little, wondering if he was to be blamed for what had happened despite his innocence.
“I wouldn’t call it a miracle,” he said now, not wanting to contradict the Section Chief but unwilling to be blamed for more than was just. “It’s only some image from old times, floated up on the River, that’s all.”
“It shines, man. I went to the Temple. I saw it for myself. It’s all wet, and it shines.”
“Well, there’s that, yes. But dead fish often do that, and muliuk shells.”
“She shines and smiles,” Kerf went on, not listening. “And holds out her hand. More attractive than the moon faces, I’ll tell you.”
“Oh, well, now, Your Honor, but nobody’s suggested the thing’s a god! No. I wouldn’t have tolerated that for a minute. No. No heresy here. All they’ve said is the thing is an image of … well, of the Bearer of Truth.”
“And what’s that? Not a goddess? You’re sure?”
“Well, nobody’s said it’s a goddess. I shouldn’t think anyone believes so unless they’ve said … “
“If they haven’t so far, depend on it they will soon.”
“Well, if they do, I’ll just have to pick up a few, that’s all. Pass around a few Tears. Settle things down.”
“Why haven’t you settled things down already?”
Haranjus shrugged, a bit uncomfortably. Why hadn’t he? “Well, because if I did, you know, they’d think there was something in it. Something important. Something the Tower needed to defend against. If I let it be, it’s a wonder for a few years, and it brings some curious travelers to spend their money here in Thou-ne–which won’t hurt, Your Honor. Potipur knows we’re poor enough. And it will blow over. When it does, let enough time pass for them all to forget it, then take the thing and burn it, shine or no shine.”
Bostle Kerf was no fool. He liked having his own way but wouldn’t push it to the point of causing trouble. Here, he felt, the local man had the right of it. Don’t fuss it. Don’t make a racket. Let it die, as it would, of its own accord, without drawing more attention to it.
“How long since it was found?”
“Two and a half years. Maybe closer to three. I signaled the Chancery the very night of the day it happened.”
As he had, sweating away at the handles of the signal light, clickety-clacking the coded message across all those miles to the nearest signal tower, first time he’d ever done it; first time he’d ever had anything to report. And it had taken over a year for the Chancery to decide it wanted to investigate, so why all this uproar now? Well, thought Kerf, Haranjus was probably right. Let it alone. For now.
He snarled a little, letting the local man know he was being watched. No harm in that. Keep him on his toes. When it was dark, they went to the signal room, polished the mirror and lighted the lantern while Kerf worked the shutters. He did it a good deal faster than Haranjus had done, but then, he’d had more practice. “Reported image of local interest only,” he signaled. “Thou-ne Tower recommends allowing interest to die of its own accord. Kerf in agreement. Returning to the Chancery.”