The Blind Assassin - Margaret Atwood [165]
He can’t see. He’s blind, remember?
You know what I mean. So the Servant of Rejoicing says that’s fine.
He wouldn’t just say That’s fine. He’d make a speech.
I can’t do those parts. The three of them go into a tent apart from the others, and the assassin says here’s the plan. He will tell them how to get into the city of Sakiel-Norn without any siege or loss of life, I mean their lives. They should send a couple of men, he’ll give them the password for the gate – he knows the passwords, remember – and once they’re inside, these men should go to the canal and float a rope down it, under the archway. They should tie their end of it to something or other – a stone pillar or something – and then at night a group of soldiers can pull themselves into the city hand over hand by the rope, underwater, and overpower the guard, and open all eight of the gates, and then bingo.
Bingo? he says, laughing. That’s not a very Zycronian word.
Well, Bob’s your uncle then. After that, they can kill everyone to their heart’s content, if that’s what they want to do.
A smart trick, he said. Very crafty.
Yes, she said, it’s in Herodotus, or something like that is. The fall of Babylon, I think it was.
You’ve got a surprising amount of bric-à-brac in your head, he says. But I suppose there’s a tradeoff? Our two young folks can’t go on posing as divine messengers. It’s too risky. Sooner or later they’d make a slip, they’d fail, and then they’d be killed. They have to get away.
Yes. I’ve thought of that. Before the password and the directions are handed over, the blind man says that the two of them must be taken to the foothills of the western mountains, with ample food supplies and so on. He’ll say they have to make a sort of pilgrimage there – go up a mountain, get more divine instructions. Only then will he hand over the goods, by which he means the password. That way, if the barbarian attack fails, the two of them will be somewhere none of the citizens of Sakiel-Norn will ever think to follow them.
But they’ll be killed by the wolves, he says. And if not by them, by the dead women with curvaceous figures and ruby-red lips. Or she’ll be killed, and he’ll be forced to fulfill their unnatural desires till the cows come home, poor fellow.
No, she says. That’s not what will happen.
Oh no? Says who?
Don’t say oh no. Says me. Listen – it’s this way. The blind assassin hears all rumours, and so he knows the real truth about those women. They aren’t actually dead at all. They just put those stories around so they’ll be left in peace. Really they’re escaped slaves, and other women who’ve run away to avoid being sold by their husbands or fathers. They aren’t all women either – some are men, but they’re kind and friendly men. All of them live in caves and herd sheep, and have their own vegetable gardens. They take turns lurking around the tombs and frightening travellers – howling at them, and so forth – in order to keep up appearances.
In addition to that, the wolves aren’t really wolves, they’re just sheepdogs who’ve been trained to impersonate wolves. Really they’re very tame, and very loyal.
So these people will take the two fugitives in, and once they’ve heard their sad story they’ll be really nice to them. Then the blind assassin and the girl with no tongue can live in one of the caves, and sooner or later they’ll have children who can see and speak, and they’ll be very happy.
Meanwhile, all their fellow-citizens are being slaughtered? he says, grinning. You’re endorsing treachery to one’s country? You’ve traded the general social good for private contentment?
Well, those were the people that were going to kill them. Their fellow citizens.
Only a few had those intentions – the elite, the top cards in the deck. You’d condemn the rest along with them? You’d have our twosome betray their own people? That’s pretty selfish of you.
It’s history, she says. It’s in The Conquest of Mexico – what’s his name, Cortez – his Aztec mistress, that’s what she did. It’s in the Bible too. The harlot