She reached down, took his hand, and drew him to his feet. “That isn’t necessary.” He raised his head, found her studying his face with an intensity that made him blush and look away. “How rare to find a Summer with any respect. Who is it that I reminded you of so much that you saw her instead?” Even the voice was the same; and yet something in it mocked him.

“My — cousin, Your Majesty. My cousin Moon.” He swallowed. “H-how did you know who I am?” She laughed. “If you were a Winter, you wouldn’t ask that. Nothing in this city escapes my attention. For instance, I’ve heard about your unusual talent as a musician. In fact, I’ve come here today just to meet you. To ask you to come to the palace and play for me.”

“Me?” Sparks rubbed his eyes, suddenly not sure whether he was awake. “But, nobody even listens to my music—” He felt the day’s few coins rattle in his half-empty pocket.

“The right people listen.” Fate’s voice reached him from behind. “Didn’t I tell you they would?”

The Queen’s gaze followed as he glanced back. “Well, mask maker. How is your work proceeding? Have you begun the Summer Queen’s mask yet?”

“Your Majesty.” Fate bowed her head solemnly. “My work has been going better than usual, thanks to Sparks . But it isn’t time yet for the Summer Queen.” She smiled. “Winter still reigns. Take care of my musician. I’m going to miss him.”

“The best care imaginable,” the Queen said softly.

Sparks moved to the stoop, picked up his flute and slipped it into the pouch at his belt. Then, impulsively, he took Fate’s hands in his own, leaned across the trays to kiss her cheek. “I’ll come and see you.”

“I know you will.” She nodded. “Now, don’t keep your future waiting.”

He stood up, turned back toward the Queen, blinking as reality and illusion blurred his vision. Her attendants closed around him like the petals of an alien flower, and she took him away.

9

“I’m going to ask him for a ride. I can’t wait here any longer. Too much time has passed already.” Moon stood at the window of her grandmother’s cottage, looking out through the rippled glass toward town. Her mother sat at the heavy wooden table where her grandmother was cleaning fish; Moon kept her back to them, ashamed at needing that crutch to support her resolution. “That trader won’t be back again for months. Think of how long it’s been since Sparks sent for me.” And she had been too late, by a month, coming home; the trader who had brought her the message had already gone on his way again. Her hands whitened on the wooden window ledge, among the shells she and Sparks had gathered on the beach together when they were children. There would not be another ship coming to these remote islands from Carbuncle for too long; the closest place where she could hope to find one was at Shotover Bay , on the edge of Winter, and that was too long a journey by sea for her to make alone.

But in the fields above the village now a stranger worked to repair a ship that flew, like the ship she had seen in one of her trances; not a Winter, but an actual off worlder the first one who had ever set foot on Neith, a man with skin the color of brass and strange, hooded eyes. His flying ship had made a forced landing, she had watched it come out of the sky while she stood among the villagers’ eager questions this morning. She had been relieved and a little proud to tell them from her own knowledge what the thing was, and that it was nothing to be afraid of.

And the off worlder had looked relieved, too, that the villagers had known enough about technology not to panic. Listening to him speak, Moon had realized that he was just as uneasy about his presence among them as they were. They had all gone away at his brusque urging, leaving him to work in peace, hoping that if they ignored him he would disappear again.

And she had to act now, before he did disappear. He must be on his way to Carbuncle; all the off worlders were from there. If he would only take her, too…

“But Moon, you’re a sibyl now,” her mother said.

Angry with half-guilt, she turned back to them. “I won’t be abandoning my duty! Sibyls are needed everywhere.”

“Not in Carbuncle.” Her mother’s voice strained. “It’s not your faith I’m questioning, Moon, it’s your safety. You’re the Sea’s daughter now. I know I can’t forbid you to lead your own life. But they don’t want sibyls in Carbuncle. If they learned what you were—”

“I know.” She bit her lip, remembering Danaquil Lu. “I know that. I’ll keep my trefoil hidden while I’m there.” She picked it up on its chain, cupping it in her hands. “Just until I find him.”

“It’s wrong for him to ask you to go.” Her mother stood up, walking restlessly around the table. “He must know that he’s putting you in danger. He wouldn’t ask that if he was thinking of you. Wait for him to come to you, wait for him to grow up and stop thinking only of himself.”

Moon shook her head. “Mother, it’s Sparks we’re talking about! He wouldn’t say that he can’t come home unless he’s in trouble. He wouldn’t ask me to come unless he needs me.” And I’ve already betrayed him once. She looked out the window again. “I know him.” She picked up a shell. I love him.

Her mother came to stand beside her; she sensed the hesitation that kept even her own mother a little apart from her now, when they stood together. “Yes, you do.” Her mother glanced back at Gran, who still sat at the table with concentration fixed on her scaling. “You know him better than I do. You know him better than I know you.” Her mother touched her shoulder, turned her until they faced each other; she saw a brief instant of awe and sorrow in her mother’s gaze. “My daughter is a sibyl. Child of my heart and body, sometimes I feel as though I don’t really know you at all.”

“Mama—” Moon bent her head, pressed her cheek against her mother’s callused hand. “Don’t say that.”

Her mother smiled, as though an unspoken question had been answered.

Moon straightened again, took her mother’s hand carefully and lowered it in her own. “I know I’ve only just come home. And I wanted so much to have this time with you.” Her hands squeezed tight; she looked down. “But at least I have to talk to the off worlder

“I know.” Her mother nodded, still smiling. She picked up the slicker that lay at the foot of Moon’s cot and handed it to her. “At least I know the Lady goes with you now, even if I can’t.”

Moon pulled the slicker on over her head and went out of the house. She followed the stony track to the terraced village fields, half running with the fear that she would see the off worlder ship rise into the drizzling gray sky before she reached it. And as she climbed the parapet onto the terrace where the flying ship sat, a high whine filled the sodden air around her, the unearthly sound of a power unit engaging.

“Wait!” She began to run, seeing the handful of curious children who lurked at the field’s perimeter point at her and wave, thinking she waved at them. But the man in the flying ship stuck his head out the door opening to look at her, too, and the whining died.

He stepped out of the craft and straightened up. He wore the clothing of an islander, but it was made from a material she had never seen before. She slowed as she realized that he was not about to leave without her. He put his hands on his hips, glaring down at her as she approached; she saw suddenly how very tall he was, that she barely reached his shoulder. “All right, what’s the crisis, missy?”

She stopped, reduced by the tone of his voice to another childish nuisance in a mucky field on a rocky, godforsaken island. “I — I thought you were taking off.”

“I will be, just as soon as I get my tools aboard. Why do you ask?”

“That soon.” Moon looked down at her slicker, tightening her resolution. If it had to be now, it had to be. “I’d like to ask you a favor before you go.”