Moon saw the look of wonder that spread over the worn-leather face of the old man… and the utter disbelief on the face of the arrogant young Tech. Even the interpreter lost his glaze, sat openmouthed between them, looking left to right. “What?” she said, and Cress echoed it.
“He didn’t wait; he didn’t wait for the interpreter!” Elsevier pressed her hands against her cheeks with a cry of delight. “Oh, look at that old man! He worked all his life for a moment like this, knowing it would never come… And now it has.” There was a rising sigh of noise from the hall; the young Tech turned and walked off camera like a man caught in a trance. Someone wearing gray robes and a mantle of authority took his place, calling for order.
“What happened?” Moon leaned forward, hugging her knees with absorbed tension.
“The Tech forgot himself,” Elsevier breathed. “He addressed Singalu directly — as an equal — instead of through an interpreter. And in front of millions of witnesses!”
“I don’t understand.”
“Singalu is now a Technician!” Elsevier laughed. “One way to rise in rank on Kharemough is for someone from a higher level to raise you to it, by addressing you as an equal before witnesses. And that’s what happened.”
“What if Singalu did it? Would the Tech become Unclassed?” Moon watched the wiry, feather-haired old man clutch the podium, weeping unashamedly, grinning through his tears. She felt her own throat tighten; beside her Elsevier wiped at her eyes.
“No, no, the Tech would merely have had him arrested…” Elsevier broke off as the man in gray crossed the platform to Singalu and embraced him stiffly, offered congratulations face to face. “Oh, if only TJ could have this moment seen, this shared—”
“And would he equally in the dark moment share, when the young man who it caused home tonight goes and poison takes?”
“KR?” They turned together toward the voice at the door. Moon saw a once-tall man, stooping now under the weight of years — even though Kharemoughis held off old age more skillfully than any people who didn’t possess the water of life. She blinked, looked at him again, but a second look did not remove the brown parchment of his skin, and even his loose caftan could not disguise all the marks of age. But this was TJ’s younger brother… how could he have aged so badly?
“Yes, KR,” Elsevier sat back, smoothing her skirts. “He would that moment also share. Even though the young fool brought it on himself; even though you people take ‘death before dishonor’ far too lightly. Do you share in old Singalu’s joy, too?” The familiar thou did not replace the formal you with Aspundh, either.
He smiled, on the edge of good-natured laughter. “Yes, I do. He’s himself both smart and capable proven, over the years — and this proves again that our system for intelligence and initiative selects; despite all that TJ did it upside down to turn, promoting every lowborn who at him smiled.”
“KR, how can you that say? You know the highborns their purity like virgins protect! No one would your father raise up, one of the most brilliant minds of his generation.”
“But I’ve raised up been.” He shrugged benignly. “My father was satisfied; he knew it would come, in time.”
“When there was enough credit in the bank to pay for adopting some respectable ancestors,” Cress said.
Aspundh’s expression remained placid; Moon guessed that he did not speak Tiamatan. “It’s a highly scientific structuring of society, perfectly suited to our technological orientation. And it works — it raised us up out of the chaos of the pre space era forever. It’s us a millennium of stable progress given.”
“Of stagnation, you mean.” Elsevier frowned.
He gestured indignantly. “You can still that say, after living on the most advanced world in the Hegemony?”
“Technically advanced. Socially you’re hardly better than On dinee.”
He sighed. “Why do I feel that I’ve this conversation before had?”
Elsevier lifted her hands. “Forgive me, KR — I didn’t come politics to argue, or your time or mine to waste. I’ve to you in your apolitical capacity come; and I’ve brought someone who your guidance needs.” She got to her feet, drew Moon up from the cushions.
Moon stood numbly, staring as KR Aspundh came forward on slippered feet; staring at the darkly gleaming trefoil suspended on his chest. “A sibyl! He can’t be!”
He stopped, with a solemn nod. “Ask, and I will answer.”
Elsevier reached up and unfastened the enameled collar, slipped it from Moon’s throat, uncovering the matching tattoo. “Your sister in spirit. Her name is Moon.”
Moon’s hands flew to her throat; she turned away, hiding the sign of her failed inspiration as though she had been caught naked in his presence. But Elsevier turned her back firmly, lifted her chin until she looked into his eyes again.
“You honor my house,” Aspundh bent his head to her. “Forgive me if my behavior has you disappointed, and made you ashamed that you came.”
“No.” Moon dropped her eyes again, spoke awkwardly in Sandhi. “You have not. I’m not… I’m not a sibyl. Not here, this is not my world.”
“Our vision is not by time or space limited; thanks to the miracle of the Old Empire’s science.” He came forward, searching her face as he came. “We can anywhere answer, any time… but you can’t. You’ve tried, and failed.” He stopped before her, gazing evenly into her astonished eyes. “Anyone could that much see; it doesn’t any special insight take. Now why? That’s the question you must for me answer. Sit down now, and tell me where you come from.” He lowered himself onto the cushions, using a tabletop for leverage.
Moon sat down, facing him across the table; Elsevier filled in the circle with Silky and Cress. “I came from Tiamat.”
“Tiamat!”
A nod. “And now the Lady no longer speaks through me, because I left my — my promises unkept.”
“The ‘Lady?’ ” He glanced at Elsevier.
“The Sea Mother, a goddess. Maybe I’d better how we came to be here explain, KR.” She pressed her hands together, leaning forward, and told him how it had happened. Moon saw a furrow deepen between Aspundh’s white brows, but Elsevier was not watching. “We couldn’t her back take, and we needed an astrogator through the Gate to get. Because Moon was a sibyl, I — I used her,” a slight emphasis on used. “She had only just a sibyl become, and since then she hasn’t into Transfer been able to go.” The fingers twined, twisted.
A high-albedo mechanical servant appeared in the doorway, moved to Aspundh’s shoulder with a tray of tall glasses. He nodded, and it set the drinks down on the table. “Will there anything else be, sir?”
“No.” He waved it away with a hint of impatience. “You mean you her in Transfer for hours left, unprepared? My gods, that’s the kind of irresponsible act I’d of TJ expect! It’s a wonder she’s not a vegetable.”
“Well, what were they supposed to do?” Cress interrupted angrily. “Let the Blues us take? Let me die?”
Aspundh looked at him, expressionless. “You consider her sanity a fair trade.”
Cress’s gaze dropped to the trefoil at Aspundh’s chest, moved to Moon’s tattooed throat, but not to meet her eyes. He shook his head.
“I do.” Moon watched Cress’s profile soften as she spoke the words. “It was my duty. But I — I wasn’t strong enough.” She took a sip from the tall, frosted glass in front of her; the apricot-colored liquid effervesced inside her mouth, making her eyes tear.
“Since you’re me this now telling, I would you call one of the strongest-minded — or luckiest — human beings I’ve ever known.”
“Am I?” Moon cupped her hands against the soothing burn of the cold glass. “Then when will I stop being afraid back into the darkness to go? When I feel it over me start to come, the Transfer — it’s like dying inside.” Another swallow, her eyes blurred. “I hate the darkness!”
“Yes, I know.” Aspundh sat silently for a moment. “Elsevier, will you for me translate? I think it important will be that Moon every word perfectly understands.”