The man looked at her blankly, laughed. “Oh, I see. Then we’re all in the same boat, at the moment. But not for the same reason. So just stay calm, and you won’t get hurt.”
“Cress! What in the world is going on here?” A third stranger entered the room behind him, human again, but just as unexpected. Moon saw the small plump woman with blue-black skin and silvery hair stop, hands clasping in surprise. “My dear, you’ll never get a date by holding the girl at gunpoint,” not quite smiling as she studied Moon back.
The blond man didn’t laugh this time. “I don’t know what she knows, but she shouldn’t be here, Elsie.”
“Obviously. Who are you, girl? What are you doing here?” The words asked her to answer as a simple courtesy, but the voice was steel.
“Friend — I’m a friend of Ngenet Miroe. Are you Elsevier, are you the one he came to see?” Moon took the initiative as she saw the answers start to register. “He went to look for you. I can go find him-” She glanced toward the door.
“That won’t be necessary.” The woman waved her hand; the man lowered his weapon, pushed it into the pocket where her knife had gone. Both their faces eased a little. “We’ll wait with you.” The spirit-thing hissed an almost human-sounding question. “Silky would like to know what kept him.”
“Engine trouble,” Moon repeated mechanically, shifted her weight, still keeping the chair between them.
“Ah. That explains it.” But she thought something in the old woman’s voice was still not entirely satisfied. “Well, no need for us to stand up while we wait, is there? My old bones creak at the thought. Sit down, dear, we’ll all just sit by the fire and get acquainted until he comes back. Cress, bring us some beers too, won’t you?”
Moon watched in dismay as the woman and the nightmare came toward the table. But the creature crouched on the hearth just out of kicking range, looking down, its body glistening in the heater’s radiance. Its flat tentacles traced the patterns of the hearthstones with rhythmic, hypnotic motions; some of the tentacles were maimed, distorted by old scars. The woman pulled out a chair and sat down beside her with a smile of seeming encouragement. She unfastened a slicker several sizes too large, revealing a plain one-piece garment, its orange color as vivid as the green of the man’s pants. “You’ll have to excuse Silky if he doesn’t join us at the table; he’s not very fond of strangers, I’m afraid.”
Moon moved slowly around her own chair and sat down. The man came back with three mugs of beer and set one down on the hearth. Moon watched the tracing tentacles of the sea-demon caress the mug, wrap it, and lift it to drink. She picked up her own mug and drank, in long gulps. The man sat down on the other side of her, grinned. “You sure put away the brew, young mistress.”
The old woman clucked disapprovingly, sipping at her own mug. “Never mind. Tell us about yourself, dear. I don’t think you’ve told us your name. I am Elsevier, of course, and this is Cress. And that is Silky, my late husband’s — business partner. Silky is not his real name, obviously. We simply can’t say his real name. He is a dillyp, from Tsieh-pun; from another world, as we are,” with quiet reassurance. “Are you one of Miroe’s — colleagues?”
“I’m Moon. I…” She hesitated, aware of their hesitations; still not sure of them, not sure whether a lie or the truth would be a worse choice. “I just met him. He gave me a ride.”
“And then he brought you here?” Cress leaned forward, frowning. “Just like that. What did he tell you?”
“Nothing.” Moon drew away from him, toward the old woman. “And I don’t care, really. I’m just going to Carbuncle. He — said that you’d understand.” She turned to Elsevier, met the astringent indigo eyes set in a web of age lines.
“Understand what?”
Moon took a deep breath, pulled the sibyl sign out of her sweater. “This.”
Elsevier started visibly; Cress sat back in his chair. The thing on the hearth hissed a question, and Cress said, “She’s a sibyl!”
“Well… I” Almost a sigh. “We are honored.” Elsevier glanced at the others, Cress nodded. “I understand that this half of Tiamat is not the best place for a sibyl. That would be like Miroe, to go getting involved.” She smiled suddenly, deeply, but with great weariness. “No, it’s nothing — simply that seeing you who are so young and so wise makes me feel old and foolish.”
Moon looked down at her fingers twisting on the wood. “I am only a vessel for the Lady’s wisdom.” She repeated the traditional words self-consciously. These were off worlders and yet their reaction, like Miroe’s, was the respect-that-was-almost-awe a Summer would feel. “I — thought that no off worlder believed in the Lady’s power. Everyone says you make the Winters hate sibyls. Why don’t you hate me?”
“You don’t know?” Cress said, incredulous. He looked at El sevier, around at the alien on the hearth. “She doesn’t know what she is.”
“Of course she doesn’t, Cress. The Hedge wants this world kept in the technological dark, and sibyls are beacons of knowledge. But only if someone knows how to use their light.” Elsevier sipped her beer thoughtfully. “We could bring our own little Millennium, our own golden age, to this world. You know, Cress, we may just be the most dangerous people ever to visit this planet…”
Moon half frowned. “What do you mean, I don’t know what I am? I’m a sibyl. I answer questions.”
Elsevier nodded. “But not the right ones. Why are you going to Carbuncle, Moon, if you only expect to be met by hatred there?”
“I — have to find my cousin.”
“That’s the only reason?”
“It’s the only thing that matters.” He belongs with me. She looked down at the trefoil.
“Then it’s not just a kinsman you’re looking for, is it?”
“No.”
“A lover?” very gently.
She nodded, swallowing to ease the sudden cramp in her throat. “The only one I’ll ever love. Even if I never find him…”
Elsevier put out an age-stiffened hand, patted her own. “Yes, dear, I know. Sometimes you find one that you’d walk barefoot through the fires of hell for. What makes that one so different from all the rest, I wonder… ?”
Moon shook her head. And what made him different from me?
“Are you from Carbuncle?” She looked up. “Maybe you’ve seen him there. He has red hair…”
Elsevier shook her head. “No, alas. We’re not from the city. We’re just — visiting, temporarily.” She glanced toward the door, as if she suddenly remembered why they were waiting.
“Oh… What did you mean, about not asking the right ques—”
The door of the inn burst open with enough force to slam it back against the wall. Moon looked up with the others, her question left hanging in the air.
Two figures came in out of the darkness: a slender man of medium height, and a tall sturdy woman, both off worlders heavily dressed in matched clothing, wearing helmets. Holding weapons.
“Blues!” Cress muttered, his mouth barely moving. Elsevier’s hand rose to her throat, drawing the slicker together over the orange beneath it. She looked down at the darkness of her skin, let the hand drop.
“What is it?” Moon controlled a desire to leap up as Silky took refuge beside her. “Who are they?”
“No one you should know any better,” Elsevier said mildly. She picked up her mug before she looked back at the intruders. “Well, Inspector. This is unexpected. You’re a long way from home tonight.”
“Not half as far from home as you are, I expect.” The woman moved forward, searching them with her eyes, the weapon still showing in her fist.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” Elsevier glittered with controlled indignation. “This is a private party of responsible Hegemony citizens, and I consider your bursting in like this highly—”