For a moment the square went silent. Everything Aristotle had said had just been given its final summation by the Old Madman — "The god has already proven that Amon received approval and blessing; learning the craft is the manifestation of a divine miracle." That was hard to argue against, unless someone stepped forward and shouted, "The miners' craft handed down through Duke Town's generations needs no blessing from the guardian god." And who would dare say such a thing? Everyone here had for countless years believed beyond doubt in the god's protection; it was planted in their very souls.
Even those who doubted could only brood over it in secret and repent amid their alarm and uncertainty, because the moment they spoke it aloud, everyone around them would cast them off. So this was not a question of whether one was willing to believe, but of the necessity of professing devotion — which was also a way of protecting oneself.
Seeing that no one spoke, the Old Madman turned his head toward Aristotle again. "Sir, that argument of yours just now assumed a great many dangerous things. I wonder whether you realize it."
Aristotle had seen Nietzsche's eyes, and there in the old man's gaze was actually a trace of mocking, cold laughter. Only Aristotle himself knew in his heart that if he had swapped out the major premise of his syllogism, the conclusion really would have been a dangerous one. Suppose, for instance, that this child had never received the guardian god's approval — and yet he had learned the miners' craft. Then it would follow that learning the miners' craft required no approval from the guardian god.
The onlookers felt something was off but could not point to where — that was precisely the reason. No one dared open his mouth and deny the divine decree, because that was the starting point of everything; it had to be the major premise. And yet, in questioning Aristotle, the Old Madman was plainly hinting at something.
Amon had stood there stubbornly the whole time, and now his body gave an involuntary shudder. He turned and gave Aristotle a grateful look, then stared at the Old Madman in confusion. Unlike the others, Amon had clearly caught the undertone in the old man's words as well — Nietzsche was not merely questioning Aristotle; what he said seemed to be hinting at something to Amon, too.
Amon's heart was churning no less than it had when Xiaogu pressed him a moment ago, and thoughts flashed through his mind in quick succession. This debate contained a great many assumptions that were hard to believe and impossible to speak aloud: that the goddess Muyun did not exist at all; that the goddess Muyun existed but paid this place no mind; that learning the miners' craft required no blessing from the guardian god; that if a blessing was needed, it might just as well come from some other god... and on and on.
Amon's face went red, as though he were drunk, and his expression turned a little dazed. For this miner's son, thinking of so many things in a single instant was truly hard to digest. And today, of all days, he was the very person at the center of the affair — he had no choice but to think.
Aristotle seemed to read the mockery in Nietzsche's cold smile. He laid a hand over his heart and said with a mild smile, "I mean no disrespect to any god. Reverence for the gods comes from what our hearts wish to be true, not from what we wish to gain. People ought to be devout toward their faith — but the existence of the gods does not turn on any person's will."
He had cleverly sidestepped the challenge, and the Old Madman did not press the point. Instead he turned around, his tone dropping, and said coldly to Xiaogu, "There is only one explanation for this: Your Reverence the priest's conduct has dimmed the radiance of the goddess Muyun, and the goddess did not bless Amon through you, her priest. We all know that the goddess's radiance is eternal, while a priest's loyalty must be put to the test. ... Town Chief, you see — since everyone is gathered here, how shall we deal with this priest?"
Xiaogu's face went dead white in an instant; cold sweat ran down his forehead and his legs trembled a little. He had never imagined the situation could turn so sharply, that the one called to account would be himself. The Old Madman's words were plainly questioning whether he still had the right to go on serving as priest. He clearly read two words in the old man's eyes — ruthless!
But Mayor Dasti, standing to one side, said nothing at all, merely watching the show with cold, detached eyes.
Xiaogu had lived high and mighty in Duke Town for too long, and had gradually forgotten how he had first come to sit in that seat — it had all depended on the Old Madman's help. The Old Madman had said, "You are a man who gets things done cleanly, and clever with it; more important, your worldly human nature is genuine. In this town there truly is no one better suited than you to be the temple's priest and scribe."
But after sitting in that seat for so long, Xiaogu had gradually taken up with those noble lords of the city-state, and had even begun to harbor private ambitions toward Mayor Dasti's position — while overlooking the Old Madman, who for years had never shown his edge. When the Old Madman was not speaking madness, he turned out to be this sharp. Did he mean to ruin Xiaogu's prospects in public, just as he had once helped him into that seat?
Xiaogu took a step back and, steeling himself, said loudly, "Oh, Elder Nietzsche, this is clearly a complete misunderstanding. I did not know that you had already received a revelation from the great goddess Muyun in a dream. Such a thing is rare, but it is not unheard of. The divine script records that, before Duke Town had a temple, the goddess Muyun herself blessed the town's earliest craftsmen and taught us the craft we have handed down through the generations. ... Amon is a child favored by the goddess."
In his alarm, Xiaogu had blurted out the record in the divine script. It was also an ancient legend of Duke Town, explaining where the craft here had come from; later generations had built the magnificent temple on the strength of that legend, and that was many, many years ago. Whether Amon was to be punished no longer mattered now — Xiaogu's first task was to save himself.
At last Town Chief Dasti spoke up from the side, nodding with a half-smile. "Yes, the divine script does record such a thing. ... Mr. Aristotle, you said earlier that you came here to handle some matter for Lord Dick — what matter is it, exactly? Let us not let our quarrel delay it."
The mayor clearly meant to change the subject. Aristotle answered, "Miss Maria — no, Lady Maria — is unwell, and the servant attending her happens to have fallen ill as well. We need to find a servant in town to attend Lady Maria. The person must be able to do heavy work, for about three days."
Dasti was rather puzzled. Rod-Dick has so many attendants — why does he still need to find a servant in town? But he had the good sense to say nothing of it, and asked mildly, "What sort of person do you need to find?"
Aristotle seemed to glance casually at Amon, then said, unhurried, "First, it cannot be a woman who has been with a man. Second, it cannot be a grown man. Third, there must be no ash in his hair and no dirt under his nails."
"Fourth, he must have a pure heart. Fifth, he must have the favor and approval of the goddess Isis." Aristotle had barely finished speaking when the Old Madman immediately added two more. Today he seemed to have a great deal to say.
Aristotle paused for a moment, then nodded with a wry smile. "Yes, those two as well. Is there such a person in this town? If there is, the pay is one gold coin a day. Lord Dick's generosity is admirable."
The moment Dasti heard the three conditions Aristotle had given, he understood. If Maria's original servant had fallen ill, it really would be hard to find anyone among Lord Dick's attendants who fit. These were in fact Gabriel's requirements: once she had the Tears of the Gods in hand, she had demanded that Maria's entire daily life follow the standard of a holy maiden, because before long Maria would become a true holy maiden.
Gabriel had set five conditions, but Aristotle had given only the first three — because to the people of Duke Town, the last two made no difference whether they were spoken or not, and if he had spoken them he feared he would find no one at all. Unexpectedly, the Old Madman had casually supplied them.
The people of Duke Town dealt with furnace fires and ore every day. These past few days the mayor had ordered every overdue tax for the season paid in full, and a huge merchant caravan had come to town, so every household's furnace had not stopped burning — either to pay the tax, or to dig godstone and trade it quickly for more goods.
Finding someone here with no ash in his hair and no dirt under his nails was truly difficult. In the whole square there were only three: Dasti, Xiaogu, and Amon. Amon was very clean — he had just bathed in the cold spring during the night, washing his clothes as well, and had dried them in the early morning sun and dressed before coming back into town.
The Old Madman laughed. "Luck is with us. There is one and only one person here who meets your conditions. He is a child, not yet grown — and you know as well why he is standing here: because of the favor of the goddess Isis. ... Amon, go with this gentleman at once. ... Sir, please pay the three gold coins to his father."
The mayor stepped down from the platform as well and, most unusually, patted Amon on the shoulder. "Child, go with this gentleman at once. Do everything exactly as he instructs, and whatever you do, do not slight the most honored guest of this town."
The crowd parted to make a path, and Aristotle left with Amon. Before he went, Amon helped his kneeling father to his feet; the Old Madman whispered in his ear, "Don't worry — only good can come of this, nothing bad. And you needn't worry about things here anymore."
After Amon left, the crowd did not disperse. The Old Madman still stood at the very front, and said to the town chief, "The temple priest used the ancient divine script to prove that Amon did no wrong, that he had received the blessing of the goddess Muyun.
But that proves precisely that His Reverence the priest forgot the revelation of the divine script, and that his soul was clouded over. If not for the reminder from our honored guest, Lord Xiaogu would have cut off one of the boy's fingers. Town Chief — Your Reverence the high priest — how should this be handled?"
The cold sweat that had just dried on Xiaogu broke out again. He had not expected the Old Madman to be so vicious today; if the old man latched onto this question and it reached the ears of the priests at the city-state's great temple, he would be in a bad way.
Xiaogu stepped forward and said, in a voice that was almost pleading, "This was my negligence. In all the time since I became priest, I have never met with such a thing. I thank the venerable elder Nietzsche for the reminder.
I am willing to atone for my rash conduct, and I apologize to Amon here."
Then the noble priest stepped down from the platform as well, and actually bent down to brush the dust from Amon's father's knees. The townsfolk's eyes went wide. It made Amon's father flinch; he hastily backed away two steps and said, "Lord Xiaogu, you need not do that. What is to be done is for the lords to decide — it is the goddess's decree. I believe the great goddess Muyun is protecting Amon."
The Old Madman, however, laughed coldly from the side. "You cannot refuse the goodwill of such a noble priest — how kind and generous he is! He wishes to make it up to you, and you must accept. ... Mayor, I suggest that this family's taxes for the coming year be paid by Lord Xiaogu on their behalf."
Xiaogu had already straightened up, and nodded at once.
"Yes, no problem!"
His tone was generous, because the old drunkard's yearly haul of godstone was almost the smallest in town — usually just the four godstones of the basic tax. But then his brow knitted slightly: he had realized that the one who could dig godstone now was not only the old drunkard. Amon was plainly an expert.
If it happened that they dug a great deal of godstone in the coming year, he would have to pay nine out of every ten stones in their place as tax — and that would be a hefty expense.
But under the circumstances, Xiaogu had no choice but to agree.
Mayor Dasti nodded. "Then the matter is closed. I will set down what happened in my name as mayor of this town — but only as a record; I will not report it to the city-state's temple as an incident of blasphemy. All right, there is nothing more to do here. Everyone disperse."
Those words amounted to taking a hold over Xiaogu. Mayor Dasti would make a record and declare that he would not report it — but the implication was that he could. A temple priest violating a divine decree, with the whole sequence of events set down in detail and witnesses to match.
Mayor Dasti also had some inkling that for the past two years Xiaogu had deliberately cultivated the noble lords of the city-state and had designs on the mayor's seat, but now was not yet the time to tear off all pretense; after all, for the moment he could not find anyone more suitable to help handle the town's affairs.
So he would seize the chance to give him a proper warning.