“Already? It’s over? They didn’t—” Moon glanced over her shoulder at the station entrance. She looked back at Jerusha again, stricken, abruptly realizing that she had sacrificed her freedom for nothing.
“They didn’t. The Summers are safe. Arienrhod has failed, and she’s under house arrest. She won’t get away from your Lady.” A passing patrolman called congratulations to her; she nodded.
Moon’s face twitched as though she didn’t know what to feel, as though there were more layers to the knowledge than even she could penetrate. “How… how did you find out?” wearily.
“By chance; with unintentional cooperation from—” She turned to Tor Starhiker, eavesdropping behind her.
“Hey, kid,” Tor raised a hand, and Moon blinked with recognition. “Hey, Pollux, come here!”
“Persipone?” Moon half frowned at Tor’s unglamorized face, still only half-sure. She looked past her as the pol rob came toward them.
“What’s she under arrest for?” Tor jerked a thumb at Moon, indignantly, a little too impressed with her own role as key witness. “It’s not against the law to impersonate the Queen, is it? Not your laws, anyhow.”
“That depends on how well you do it,” Jerusha said. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “You know each other?”
“Since today. That seems like forever.” Tor shook her head, strained for a smile. “Look what she’s done to your hairdo, Polly… So what happened, cousin? Did you find him? Did you get him out of the palace? Did you see the Queen — did she see you?”
“You were in the palace?” Jerusha demanded. The clear wall of official accusation turned the girl into a prisoner again. “To meet the Queen—”
Moon felt the change, and defiance beat back at her. “To find my cousin!” She glanced quickly at Tor, nodded, blushing. “You know what… who I am, don’t you, Commander?”
Jerusha nodded, keeping her distance mentally. “I’ve known for a long time.” Tor looked blank beside her.
“So has everyone; except me,” Moon murmured bitterly. “I was the last to know.”
“I still don’t know,” Tor said.
“Did Gundhalinu tell you?”
“No, Arienrhod did.” Moon twisted a strand of hair.
Jerusha started. “You saw her?”
“Yes,” almost a whisper. “She wanted me with her to share… everything. Even Sparks,” coldly. Moon reddened again; angry, not ashamed. “She wanted me to forget that I’m pledged to him; forget that I’m a Summer; forget that I’m a sibyl. And when I wouldn’t forget, she tried to kill me.”
The bitterness increased a magnitude. Jerusha frowned as her own surprise deepened. Moon rubbed her eyes, swaying where she stood; Jerusha remembered all that she had been through, and how much of it had been for Gundhalinu’s sake.
“Sit down. Pollux, bring us some tea.” Jerusha dismissed the waiting guard, touched Moon’s elbow, turning her toward the seat along the wall. Moon looked surprise at her; Jerusha felt a twinge of surprise at herself. Pollux moved away obediently through the trajectories of official activity. Tor included herself in the rest of the invitation: “Get me a refill, Polly.”
“You said Arienrhod tried to kill you?” Jerusha sat down.
Moon dropped heavily onto the seat, a little away from her; Tor stretched out fluidly at the bench’s end. “She told the nobles I was a sibyl, and they tried to throw me into the Pit.”
Tor sat up straight, speechless for once.
“Her own clone?” Jerusha felt her incredulity fade even as she said it. Yes, that’s the Arienrhod I know. No competition.
“I’m not Arienrhod!” Moon’s voice shook with denial. “I’m wearing her face, that’s all.” She pulled a hand down over her own, her fingers clawing, as though she wanted to strip it off. “And she knows it.”
Pollux returned and passed around tea with the silent propriety of a butler. Jerusha took a sip from her bowl, letting the scalding heat rise inside her head. It could be a trick, another trick, her coming here. But for the life of her she couldn’t imagine what purpose could lie behind it.
“They tried to throw you in the Pit?” Tor prodded, staring at Moon’s throat. “What happened?”
“It wasn’t hungry.” Moon drank her tea, a strange emotion moving across her face. Tor looked pained. “BZ — Inspector Gundhalinu came in with the Summers and made them let me go.”
“You mean that fishing pole with you was a real Blue?” Tor asked.
“He was once.” Jerusha rested her heavy-helmeted head against the wall. “I hope he will be again.”
“He never stopped wanting to be anything else,” Moon said quietly. “Don’t let him give it up, and throw everything away. Don’t let him blame himself for what happened.” She gulped tea.
“I can’t keep him from doing that.” Jerusha shook her head. “But I’ll make sure no one else blames him for it.” I can save his career; but I can’t save him from himself… or from you. “Tell me,” her resentment crystallized into accusation, “by all the gods, what do you see in Starbuck, that bloody genocide—”
“Sparks isn’t Starbuck… not any more.” Moon set her empty cup down on the bench, rattling it as the genocide registered. “And he never knew about the mers. But you do.”
From you. Jerusha glanced away abruptly. “Yes. Your friend Ngenet — told me the truth about them.” My friend Ngenet… who trusted you, and trusted me to know about you.
“Ngenet?” Moon shook her own head, rubbed her face again. “You must have known it before. Any sibyl knows the truth, you can’t deny that,” including the whole of the Hegemony in the accusation. “You want to punish Sparks for killing mers on off worlder land — for splattering blood on you while you stand and watch them die, with your hands out begging for the water of life! And you want to punish me for knowing the truth — that you’re punishing my world for your own guilt.”
Tor sat listening with wide ears, but Jerusha made no move to get rid of her. She made no move even to answer, cupping the Hegemonic seal of her belt buckle with cold fingers; Moon watched her intently through the long moment. Jerusha frowned. “I don’t make the laws. I just enforce them.” Wishing, as she said it, that she hadn’t said that much.
Disappointment showed in Moon’s eyes, but she didn’t press the argument. “Sparks isn’t Starbuck! He wasn’t Starbuck in Summer; and there won’t be a Starbuck any more, when Winter’s gone. Arienrhod did it to him, and he only let her do it because — because she was so like me.” Moon glanced away. Jerusha felt a pang of sympathy at the girl’s sudden shame and confusion. She stared at the trefoil tattoo. “Sparks was the one who told me about the Queen’s plot. He was coming here when she caught us — he didn’t care what you did to him, or me, as long as you kept our people from dying.” She looked up.
“If he wants to make up for the last five years, it’ll take more than that. It’ll take him the rest of his life.” Jerusha tasted venom.
“Do you hate him that much?” Moon frowned. “Why? What did he ever do to you?”
“Listen, Moon,” Tor said. “Everybody in Carbuncle has a reason to hate either Sparks Dawntreader or Starbuck. And that includes me.”
“Then you gave him a reason to hate you.”
Jerusha looked away. “He repaid us all a hundred times over.”
Moon leaned forward. “But at least you owe him a chance to prove he doesn’t belong to the Queen now. He knows everything about the Source’s plan — couldn’t he testify for you? He knows other things about the Source, things you could use—”
“Like what?” interested in spite of herself.