Two thirds of a mile, three quarters, and there were more passing her all the time, easily thirty ahead of her now, and a cramp in her side that took her breath away. They’re passing me… and they don’t know, they don’t even know what they’re reaching for! Reaching after it with the last of her strength, she saw the final distance hurtle past; suspended all other awareness until the white stone courtyard of the Winter palace was under her feet, and the next-to-last winter’s garland had fallen around her shoulders.

Laughing, gasping, dazed, she was swallowed by the ecstasy of the waiting crowd, joyously praised with handclasps, kisses, and tears. She made her way through them, took her place in the circle of winners that was forming at the very center of the courtyard. Looking back, she heard and then saw the group of musicians dressed in white, draped in garlands like her own, and wearing black chimney hats with Winter totem crests. Behind them came a small procession of Summers — more Goodventures, bearing a canopy of ornamental net woven with shells and sprays of greenery, held aloft on oars delicately carven with a fantasy of sea beasts.

And beneath the canopy came the mask of the Summer Queen. She heard the sighs and cries of admiration, like a wind through the crowd; felt her own wonder rise again at the sight of its beauty… and its power, the face of Change. Her gaze moved to the one who carried it, and she jerked with recognition: Fate Ravenglass. The circle parted to let Fate through alone; the rest of the procession circled outside, mingling its music with the crowd’s.

The Goodventure elder bowed before her, or before the strength of her artistry. “Winter crowns Summer, and the Change begins. May the Lady help you to choose wisely, Winter woman; for your sake as well as for ours.” She stood serene in her faith in the Lady’s judgment.

“I pray that I will.” Fate bowed in turn, her white gown all but hidden by the mask’s trailing sunbeams as it rested on her arms.

The Lady will choose… Why had Fate Ravenglass been picked as Her representative, if not to choose in turn the one face, the one heart and mind behind it that knew the secrets she knew about this world? But she’s almost blind. Could she even tell one face from all the rest? How would she know?

The Goodventure elder began to sway from foot to foot; the lacy drape of beaded network that covered her clothing clattered and chimed. She began to sing the ancient feast day invocation, and the ring of women began to circle slowly, stepping foot across foot, drawing Moon along. The words of the litany and response came to her easily, almost hypnotically, rooted as deeply in her memory, wrapped as profoundly around its most primitive images, as anything she still remembered. It had no true rhyme, like most of the holy songs, because the language it had once been shaped from had lost its own shape down the years; its tune fell strangely on her ears. She sang with the rest, but a part of her mind held separate, watching the pageantry that the rest of her flowed into unquestioningly: the part of her that was no longer certain Fate would choose her, bMndly, unaided. Does the sibyl mind really control what happens here? It twists me in its own directions — but can it reach beyond my hand, can it really move anything that it doesn’t hold on strings?

Moon watched Fate begin to drift out in a counter circle bearing the mask, her expression intent but formless. She won’t recognize me.

Moon bit her lip against panic, against more words, the urge to cry out, Here, here I am! Wanting to believe that it was predestination, but no longer certain that anything was predestined. She couldn’t leave it to chance — not after she had come this far, and seen so much. She has to choose me. But how—?

Moon’s memory leaped forward to the next verse, and the two levels of her consciousness fused: “Input!”

“Who knows the one that She will call,

Or what their fate will be?”

The refrain faded as she fell into Transfer, came back with a sudden intensity that deafened her. She felt herself lurch with the shock, tried to open her eyes. But her eyes were open, and still the world she saw was barely brighter than moonlight, its edges blurred and indistinct. Her other senses fed her perception all out of proportion . because she was blind! In another second she had passed through terror to the understanding that she was — Fate Ravenglass. And that somewhere in that dimly seen line of figures circling past her immobile body was one that must be caught at the other pole of this Transfer…

She watched the dim figures pass, and pass, wondering what she would find, if she would even be able to tell what was taking shape. And then she made out the one figure that stumbled in line, supported, half-carried, on the arms of the indistinguishable women at either side: herself — she was seeing herself. And Fate Ravenglass looked back with her eyes; each of them seeing her own face and knowing they did… Abruptly Moon felt her borrowed body unlock and move forward freely toward her real one, the mask held out before her in her hands. As she closed with herself she could see at last that the face was really her own. It stared at the mask, back at her, with wonder and wordless fascination. She lifted the mask with Fate’s trembling hands, moved again by its beauty as she set it firmly on her own shoulders.

As the mask settled in place she felt herself wrenched back across the Transfer gap, into her rightful mind, and heard her cry as she ended the trance. Looking out now through the eye holes of the mask, she saw Fate standing dazed before her, felt her own arms still supported by the women beside her, heard the roar of the crowd’s jubilation. But all that she remembered of the moment was Fate touching the face that was her own again: “My face — I saw my face. And the mask of the Summer Queen…”

The crowd began to close in around them, smashing the fragile circle of hands, sweeping away the also-rans. Moon’s support broke away as she regained her equilibrium; she reached out and grasped Fate’s hands, holding her steady, face to face. “Fate — it’s happened! I did it! I am the Summer Queen!”

“Yes. Yes, I know.” Fate shook her head, tears putting light in her darkened eyes. “It was meant to be. It was. It must be the first time two sibyls ever looked out of each other’s eyes, and saw themselves—” She smoothed her collar of white feathers distractedly. “You’ll be everything as Queen that I made your mask to be.”

Moon felt her heart squeezed by a sudden, heavy hand. “But not alone. I’ll need help. I’ll need people my people can trust… and yours can. Will you help me?”

The feather collar rustled with Fate’s nod. “I’m in need of a new career. Whatever I can do to help I’ll do gladly. Moon… Your Majesty.”

The netted canopy shadowed them, and the Goodventure elder came up between them, gravely gay. “Lady!” The other Goodventures bowed around her. “Your duties today are three: To go among the people and show them that the Mask Night has begun. To be carefree. To rejoice. And your duties tomorrow are three: To go down to the docks when dawn comes beyond the walls. To deliver Winter to the Sea. To rule in her place as the Lady wills.”