9

“I’m going to ask him for a ride. I can’t wait here any longer. Too much time has passed already.” Moon stood at the window of her grandmother’s cottage, looking out through the rippled glass toward town. Her mother sat at the heavy wooden table where her grandmother was cleaning fish; Moon kept her back to them, ashamed at needing that crutch to support her resolution. “That trader won’t be back again for months. Think of how long it’s been since Sparks sent for me.” And she had been too late, by a month, coming home; the trader who had brought her the message had already gone on his way again. Her hands whitened on the wooden window ledge, among the shells she and Sparks had gathered on the beach together when they were children. There would not be another ship coming to these remote islands from Carbuncle for too long; the closest place where she could hope to find one was at Shotover Bay , on the edge of Winter, and that was too long a journey by sea for her to make alone.

But in the fields above the village now a stranger worked to repair a ship that flew, like the ship she had seen in one of her trances; not a Winter, but an actual off worlder the first one who had ever set foot on Neith, a man with skin the color of brass and strange, hooded eyes. His flying ship had made a forced landing, she had watched it come out of the sky while she stood among the villagers’ eager questions this morning. She had been relieved and a little proud to tell them from her own knowledge what the thing was, and that it was nothing to be afraid of.

And the off worlder had looked relieved, too, that the villagers had known enough about technology not to panic. Listening to him speak, Moon had realized that he was just as uneasy about his presence among them as they were. They had all gone away at his brusque urging, leaving him to work in peace, hoping that if they ignored him he would disappear again.

And she had to act now, before he did disappear. He must be on his way to Carbuncle; all the off worlders were from there. If he would only take her, too…

“But Moon, you’re a sibyl now,” her mother said.

Angry with half-guilt, she turned back to them. “I won’t be abandoning my duty! Sibyls are needed everywhere.”

“Not in Carbuncle.” Her mother’s voice strained. “It’s not your faith I’m questioning, Moon, it’s your safety. You’re the Sea’s daughter now. I know I can’t forbid you to lead your own life. But they don’t want sibyls in Carbuncle. If they learned what you were—”

“I know.” She bit her lip, remembering Danaquil Lu. “I know that. I’ll keep my trefoil hidden while I’m there.” She picked it up on its chain, cupping it in her hands. “Just until I find him.”

“It’s wrong for him to ask you to go.” Her mother stood up, walking restlessly around the table. “He must know that he’s putting you in danger. He wouldn’t ask that if he was thinking of you. Wait for him to come to you, wait for him to grow up and stop thinking only of himself.”

Moon shook her head. “Mother, it’s Sparks we’re talking about! He wouldn’t say that he can’t come home unless he’s in trouble. He wouldn’t ask me to come unless he needs me.” And I’ve already betrayed him once. She looked out the window again. “I know him.” She picked up a shell. I love him.

Her mother came to stand beside her; she sensed the hesitation that kept even her own mother a little apart from her now, when they stood together. “Yes, you do.” Her mother glanced back at Gran, who still sat at the table with concentration fixed on her scaling. “You know him better than I do. You know him better than I know you.” Her mother touched her shoulder, turned her until they faced each other; she saw a brief instant of awe and sorrow in her mother’s gaze. “My daughter is a sibyl. Child of my heart and body, sometimes I feel as though I don’t really know you at all.”

“Mama—” Moon bent her head, pressed her cheek against her mother’s callused hand. “Don’t say that.”

Her mother smiled, as though an unspoken question had been answered.

Moon straightened again, took her mother’s hand carefully and lowered it in her own. “I know I’ve only just come home. And I wanted so much to have this time with you.” Her hands squeezed tight; she looked down. “But at least I have to talk to the off worlder

“I know.” Her mother nodded, still smiling. She picked up the slicker that lay at the foot of Moon’s cot and handed it to her. “At least I know the Lady goes with you now, even if I can’t.”

Moon pulled the slicker on over her head and went out of the house. She followed the stony track to the terraced village fields, half running with the fear that she would see the off worlder ship rise into the drizzling gray sky before she reached it. And as she climbed the parapet onto the terrace where the flying ship sat, a high whine filled the sodden air around her, the unearthly sound of a power unit engaging.

“Wait!” She began to run, seeing the handful of curious children who lurked at the field’s perimeter point at her and wave, thinking she waved at them. But the man in the flying ship stuck his head out the door opening to look at her, too, and the whining died.

He stepped out of the craft and straightened up. He wore the clothing of an islander, but it was made from a material she had never seen before. She slowed as she realized that he was not about to leave without her. He put his hands on his hips, glaring down at her as she approached; she saw suddenly how very tall he was, that she barely reached his shoulder. “All right, what’s the crisis, missy?”

She stopped, reduced by the tone of his voice to another childish nuisance in a mucky field on a rocky, godforsaken island. “I — I thought you were taking off.”

“I will be, just as soon as I get my tools aboard. Why do you ask?”

“That soon.” Moon looked down at her slicker, tightening her resolution. If it had to be now, it had to be. “I’d like to ask you a favor before you go.”

He wasn’t looking at her; he slid a compartment shut beneath the window curve at the craft’s front and rapped on it with a hand. “If you want an explanation about how the magic ship flies, I’m afraid I just haven’t got the time. I’m late for an appointment.”

“I know how they fly, my cousin told me.” Her own irritation chewed the words. “I just want you to take me to Carbuncle.”

He did look up this time, in mild astonishment. She forced the smile that said she had every right to ask. Several responses almost got past his lips, before he stooped to pick up his tool kit. “Sorry. I’m not going to Carbuncle.”

“But—” She took a step, putting herself between him and the door opening as he started toward it. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to Shotover Bay , if it’s any business of yours. Now if you’ll just—”

“That’s all right. That’s fine, in fact. Will you take me there instead?”

He pushed back his black, reed-straight hair, leaving a muddy track through it; he was beardless, but a black mustache draped his downturned mouth. “Just why in the names of a thousand gods should I do that?”

“Well…” She almost frowned at his lack of generosity. “I’d be glad to do anything you ask, to repay you.” She hesitated, as his expression changed for the worse. “I… guess I’ve made a mistake, haven’t I?”

He laughed unexpectedly. “That’s all right, missy.” He thrust the tool kit past her into the space behind the seats. “But you shouldn’t be so ready to run off with the first stranger you see. You might just wind up in a worse situation than the one you think you’re in.”

“Oh—” Moon felt her cheeks burning in the cold air. She put a hand up, covering her face. “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant! Here in the islands, when someone wants to go somewhere, and you’re going, you just — take them…” Her voice disappeared. “I’m sorry.” She started away, stumbling over a rut, suddenly feeling like precisely the foolish child she had seen in his eyes.

“Well, wait a minute.” The sand of annoyance was still in his voice, but its sting wasn’t as sharp. “Why do you want to go there?”

She turned back again, trying to remember the trefoil hidden beneath her slicker, and that she had a right to a sibyl’s dignity. “I want to find a ship at Shotover Bay to take me to Carbuncle. It’s very important to me.”

“It must be, to make a Summer willing to get into a flying machine with an oflvvorlder.”

Moon’s mouth tightened. “Just because we don’t use off world technology, that doesn’t mean we turn pale at the sight of it.”

He laughed again, appreciatively, as though he enjoyed being paid in kind. “All right, then. If all you want is a ride, missy, you’ve got it.”

“Moon.” She put out her hand. “Moon Dawntreader Summer.”

“Ngenet ran Abase Miroe.” He took her hand and shook it, not clasping wrists as she was used to; said, as an afterthought, “Last name first. Climb aboard and strap in.”

She climbed in resolutely on the far side, looking no further than the present moment, and fumbled with the safety harness. The interior of this craft was different from the one she had seen in her trance; she thought that it looked simpler. She held tight to the straps, and its false familiarity. Ngenet ran Ahase Miroe got in behind the controls and sealed the doors; the whine began to build in the space around them, muted this time, no louder than the rush of blood in her ears.

There was no sensation of movement when they lifted from the field, but as she saw Neith and her village fall away below she felt a sourceless wrench of pain, as though something inside her had been pulled apart. She pressed her hands against her chest, feeling the trefoil safely beneath her clothes, and sang a silent prayer.

The hovercraft banked sharply, heading out over the open sea.

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