The Snow Queen (16 page)

Moon closed
her eyes, sipping beer; let her mind separate out the memory of all that had
gone wrong from all that was right between herself and
Sparks
, as she listened to the music that he
had always heard with a different ear.
They
would talk about Carbuncle,
Ngenet had said. Would he take her there, then?
Or would he only try to change her mind? No one would change her mind ... but
she thought she could change his. She could use his concern about her to make
him take her there, she was sure of it. She could be there tomorrow.. She began
to smile.

But was it
right? Some part of her mind stirred uneasily. How was it wrong? Ngenet wanted
to help her; she knew he did. And she didn’t even know why
Sparks
needed her: She imagined him sick or
hungry, moneyless, friendless, starving. A day, an hour, could make a
difference ... Lady, every minute that she could spare him any sorrow or pain
was important, more important than anything else.

A noise at
the back of the room made her open her eyes. She looked toward the doorway at
the rear of the room, felt her eyes widen, and widen again, as her mind refused
to accept the information they took in. It was alive, and moving. It stood on
two legs like a human being, but it’s feet were broad and webbed, its motion
was the fluid shifting of sea grass in the underwater swell. The gray green,
sexless body, glistening with an oily film, was naked except for a woven belt
hung with unidentifiable shapes; the thing’s arms split into half a dozen
whiplike tendrils. Nacreous, pupil less eyes fixed on her like the eyes of a
sea spirit.

Moon stood
up, her mouth too dry for the sounds she was trying to make; she put the chair
between herself and the nightmare thing as she reached for her knife. But at
her motion the creature gave a guttural cough and darted back through the
doorway, disappearing from her sight before she could really believe that it
had ever been there.

Standing in
its place was a man she had never seen before, half again her own age, with a
stiff crest of blond hair falling over one eye. He was wearing a fisherman’s
parka, but his pants were a lurid green in the flame less brightness of the
room. “Don’t go for it, young mistress, I’ve got you marked.” He stretched out
his arm, she saw something unidentifiable in his hand. “Toss it out onto the
floor, now, gently does it.”

She
finished drawing her knife, uncertain about the threat. He moved his hand
impatiently, and she tossed the curved blade out. He came forward far enough to
pick it up.

“What do
you want?” The shrillness of it told her just how afraid she really was.

“Come on
out, Silky.” The man glanced toward the doorway, in stead. Unintelligible
hissing sounds were the response; the man smiled humorlessly. “Yes, precisely
as delighted to meet you as you were to find her here. Come out and give her a
better look.”

The
creature came cautiously through into the room again; Moon’s hands tightened
over the animal heads on the chair back. The thing made her think suddenly of a
family crest come to life. “I—I don’t have any money.”

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—”

“Spare me,
tech runner The woman gestured with her gun, her mouth set. “Your ship was
spotted coming in, you’re on this planet illegally. I charge you further with
suspicion of smuggling contraband items. Stand up, all of you, and put your
hands on top of your heads.”

Moon sat
frozen, looking from Elsevier to Cress and back; but their eyes were only for
the strangers. The trefoil cut into her tightening hand; understanding just
enough to be afraid, she stuffed it into her sweater.

But the
uniformed woman spotted the motion and came forward; as she came Moon saw the
frown on her face change into the same incredulity that had shown on the faces
of the two Winters on the quay. The man behind her began to move watchfully to
the side, as Elsevier and Cress got to their feet together. Moon felt Elsevier
nudge her elbow and rose awkwardly, her chair grating on the floor.

“Now,
Silky!” Elsevier murmured, jerking Moon back as the alien bolted away from the
table, scrambled toward the doorway they had all come through. Moon came up
against the chimney wall as the two officers wavered between targets, as Cress
swept a mug from the table and hurled it, as the mug struck the light fixture
suspended from the rafters and smashed it. A shower of electric sparks and foam
rained down in the sudden darkness.

“Run for
it!”

“BZ! Nail
him!”

“Moon, stay
out of this!” Moon felt Elsevier shove her ungently away, stumbled blindly over
her own chair and fell against the table. There was noise and a cry behind her;
dimly she saw the woman officer leap to catch Elsevier by the slicker. Moon’s
hand closed over another mug on the tabletop; she brought it around and down
with all her strength on the woman officer’s arm and heard a gasp of pain.
Elsevier broke free, herded her ahead toward the way out. “Never, never hit a
Blue, my dear—” breathlessly, next to her ear. “But thank you. Now run!”

Moon bolted
through the doorway, her mind a white blur like the brightly lit room beyond,
then through another door into a dark alley.