I couldn't help noticing his smile grew wider when he looked Impervia's direction. He obviously liked what he saw, and didn't mind anyone knowing. I doubt if he even recognized Impervia's tunic and trousers as nun's apparel-Magdalenes weren't often seen in backwaters like Crystal Bay, and besides, Impervia's clothes were still clinging wet from getting splashed. I could forgive Bing for ogling a nun; the question was if Impervia could forgive him.
Several long seconds passed: Bing smiling broadly, the rest of us holding our breaths to see what Impervia would do. Slowly she lifted her hand… then, incredibly, she brushed it through her snip-clipped hair as if trying to comb it into some more orderly arrangement. A moment later, she dropped her gaze; with her jet-dark skin it was impossible to tell, but I would almost have said she was blushing.
I shook my head in amazement. Any other man on any other day would have received a sharp-tongued reprimand; Impervia might even slap his face. But today… grief affects people unpredictably. I could have sworn Impervia was so angry over Myoko's death, she'd lash out at anyone who gave her the least excuse. Obviously, I'd been wrong. Maybe she'd been ready to roar at Bing-to go through her usual routine of instant hostility toward male attention-when suddenly, she just didn't have the heart. Not enough energy to work herself into a rage: especially not over someone as transparently harmless as Bing. I don't know if that's what actually went through Impervia's mind, but I could see the bottom had dropped out of her fury. Nothing left but that weak almost-feminine gesture of straightening her hair.
Her fire had turned to ashes. She looked exhausted.
Bing was not the sort whose smiles lengthened into leers. After only a moment more, he turned from Impervia and began talking pleasantly with Pelinor: explaining some nicety about the way the horses had been hooked to the coach. ("My pa made that harness; it's got special features.") When Bing bent over to point out some detail about the cinch under one horse's belly, Impervia's gaze flicked over to study him behind his back. As if he was a puzzle and a challenge.
But her eyes still looked tired.
I walked over to her. "How are you doing?" I asked.
She sighed. "Praying for strength."
"Really?"
"Really." She glanced my way, then back at Bing. "Nothing's ever simple, Phil. A few hours ago, I was so… excited… about going on a holy mission. Now Myoko's dead, and we haven't accomplished anything. Not yet, anyway. I, uhh… I regret how I felt. Excitement was naïve. Perhaps even a sin. Thinking that I'd arrived and would never have another silly little problem."
"What silly little problems do you have?"
Impervia nodded toward Bing. "When I see a man like that, the devil whispers in my ear. It's not lust-not much-but it would be so uncomplicated just to… you know. Fall into someone's arms right now. To let go. To have someone who would… oh, just to have someone. To live like other women. Marry or not, settle down or not, have children or not: I don't know what I'd do, but sometimes I look at a man who's simple and decent, and I think how much easier it would be. Just to be someone other than Sister Impervia."
She gave a weak snort. "Impervia. What a stupid name. I chose it when I took vows at fifteen. Cocky little kid, sure I was stronger than anything. Why on Earth would anyone let a fifteen-year-old girl make such an important decision?"
"What's your real name?" I asked.
"It's…" She stopped suddenly. "My real name is Sister Impervia. I'm praying for strength, Phil, remember?" She stepped away from me, then yelled at the others, "Why are you all just standing around? There's no time to lose!" She stormed a few steps forward, then whirled back to glare at me. "Quit lollygagging, you! Get into the coach. Now!"
Impervia still looked tired; but she also looked strong.
The ride to the Falls took three hours-cramped bumpy hours, bouncing over OldTech roads whose potholes had been patched with dirt rather than asphalt or gravel. The dirt was now mud; the potholes were mudholes. Every time a wheel hit one, the whole coach jolted.
Pelinor rode beside Bing on the driver's seat. No doubt they spent the entire journey nattering about horses. I sat in the carriage next to Annah, with Impervia directly opposite me and the Caryatid on the other side. Every now and then we'd hear Bing's booming laugh, roaring about something Pelinor said… and I'd look across to see Impervia listening keenly to the sound. If she wasn't careful, she might work herself up into a bosom-heaving crush on the big man; but then, Impervia was always careful, wasn't she?
Anyway, there were worse things than crushes. I thought about that as I held Annah's hand. The coach was small enough that we were pressed in tight on the narrow bench; and for some reason, we held our hands down low at our sides, as if trying to hide what we were doing. I'm sure Impervia and the Caryatid knew perfectly well that Annah and I had covertly linked hands, but they pretended not to notice. Mostly they were lost in their own thoughts. So was I. So was Annah. Until some wincing moment when the memory of some corpse surfaced in my brain (Myoko, Gretchen, Oberon, Xavier, Rosalind, Hump, Dee-James), and I would find myself desperately squeezing Annah's hand for reassurance. She would always squeeze back… and sometimes she would fiercely squeeze on her own, as if some similar horror had silently risen in her mind's eye.
But we didn't speak. None of us. We passed the hours staring out at the late afternoon. Damp fields of muck. Orchards with bare branches. Less snow here than back in Simka, more melt-water streaming through the ditches.
Early in the trip, we saw farmers mending fences or hauling the winter's crop of stones off their land; but as time went on, the men and women we passed all seemed to have stopped work for the day. They sat silently on rocks or stiles, perhaps smoking pipes or holding half-empty wineskins in their hands, perhaps just staring into nothingness as the sun sank in the sky. Most nodded in our direction as we went past-some as if they knew Bing, some with an air of vague courtesy that suggested they would nod to anyone who entered their field of vision.
Shadows lengthened. Soon, the people we saw were more likely to be walking home than just sitting: finished work, finished their pipes and their wineskins, turning their backs to the road and heading toward sturdy farmhouses.
As the sun touched the far horizon, the pavement under our wheels became smoother-so abruptly that Impervia stirred from her brooding and lifted her head as if sensing some threat. The stillness of level asphalt. As Impervia looked around warily, I said, "We must be getting close to Niagara. The highway's been paved to impress the tourists."
Impervia relaxed-don't ask me why. I certainly didn't feel relieved that we'd almost reached the Falls.
In red and gold twilight, we stopped at an inn called The Captured Peacock. Bing told us it lay on the outermost edge of "Niffles": his name for the city and tourist area around the Falls. ("Niffles" was spelled "Niagara Falls" but for some reason, Bing made gagging sounds when anyone pronounced the name in full. I couldn't tell if saying "Niagara Falls" proved you were an ignorant tourist, or if "Niffles" was a disdainful nickname by which Crystal Bay folk belittled their big-city neighbors. Another of those regional rivalry things.)
Bing said he was happy to drive us all the way downtown, but first he wanted to rest the horses-maybe give them some water and feed. No one objected to the break. After hours in the coach, we were glad to stretch our legs, visit the privy, get some supper. We also realized there was no point proceeding until we'd formulated a plan. Niffles was a huge city: 30,000 permanent residents plus heaven knew how many tourists. Finding Sebastian and Jode wouldn't be easy… unless Dreamsinger had already tracked them down, in which case we could just look for the big patch of smoldering rubble.