They carried him away, carefully. The two Summers nodded at Moon, almost making obeisances, and went back out into the alley. Moon didn’t try to follow them, or Gundhalinu, with more than her eyes. She had gotten herself a long golden gown somewhere; even with her hair straggling down around her face her resemblance to Arienrhod was incredible.
“And you’re under arrest, Dawntreader, in case you’d forgotten.” My gods, this is too much for one day. She lifted her hand, summoning another officer.
Moon grimaced. “I haven’t forgotten you, Commander. BZ… Inspector Gundhalinu… I escaped. He found me again. He was bringing me in when he collapsed.” She said it all unblinkingly.
“Sure he was.” Jerusha unhooked the binders from her belt, said very softly, “That’s the biggest crock I ever heard. Fortunately I choose to believe it, for Gundhalinu’s sake.” She saw the girl’s marked throat, remembering abruptly that she was a sibyl. Jerusha lowered her hands with the binders toward her belt again, grudgingly. “I suppose these aren’t necessary, sibyl. But you didn’t come here to tell me that. Why the hell did you come?”
Moon smiled briefly, ironically; the expression looked alien on her face. She stopped smiling. “I came because the Queen wants to cause a plague to kill all the Summers in the city, and I know who’s going to start it.”
“You’re too late.” Jerusha grinned with self-satisfied triumph, until she saw Moon’s reaction. “No — I mean we’ve already stopped it. We’ve got the guilty parties, they’re our permanent guests right now.” She gestured toward the lockup, mellowing in the warmth of fortune’s smile.
“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.