Moon stood up, helped him to his feet while the realization registered around the table. “Cress—”
“Consider this my payment on the debt we owe you, young mistress.” He shrugged.
Elsevier turned to Aspundh, but Moon saw his face tighten with refusal even before the question formed. “It won’t be hard for him another ship to find; astrogators are highly in demand in your-trade, I’m sure.”
“There are smugglers and smugglers, KR,” Elsevier said.
“You mean they might not all a ship with a man blacklisted for murder want to share?” Aspundh’s expression turned to iron.
Moon let go of Cress’s sleeve.
Cress flushed. “Self-defense! It’s in the record, self-defense.”
“A drugged-up passenger challenged him to a duel, KR. The man would him have killed. But the rules don’t any exceptions make… Really, do you imagine that I’d a ship with a murderer share?”
“I can’t even why you married my brother imagine.” Aspundh sighed in defeat. “All right, Elsevier; though you press my promise to you near the breaking point. I suppose I a shipping line somewhere own that can an astrogator take on.”
“You mean that? Oh, gods—” Cress laughed, swaying like a reed. “Thank you, old mas— citizen! You won’t sorry be.” He glanced at Elsevier, a long, shining glance full of gratitude.
“I hope not,” Aspundh said; he moved past Cress to Moon’s side. “And you won’t me sorry make either, will you?”
In his eyes she saw the grim reflection of what her failure would mean, not to herself alone, but to the others. “No,” firmly.
He nodded. “Then stay with me for the next few days, while the ship is readied, and let me you all a sibyl should know teach.”
“All right.” She touched her throat.
“KR, must she—”
“It’s for her own good, Elsevier — and for yours — that I her here keep.” He lifted his head slightly.
“Yes… of course.” Elsevier smiled. “You’re quite right, of course. Moon, I—” She patted Moon’s hand, looked away again. “Well, never mind. It doesn’t matter. Never mind.” She went on toward the door, not looking back to see Moon’s outstretched hand. Silky followed her wordlessly.
“Well,” Cress grinned, half at her, half at his feet. “Good luck to you, young mistress. “You could be Queen.” I’ll tell them I knew you when.” He kept her gaze at last. “I hope you find him. Goodbye.” He backed away, turned and went out after the others. Moon watched the empty doorway silently, but it remained empty.
Moon sat alone in the garden swing, giving it momentum with the motion of her foot. Overhead the night sky sang, a hundred separate choirs of color transfiguring into one. Moon rested her head on the pillows, listening with her eyes. If she closed them she could hear another music: the sweet complexities of a Kharemoughi art song drifting out through the open doors onto the patio, the counterpoint of insects chirping in the shrubs, the shrill and guttural cries of the strange menagerie of creatures that wandered the garden paths.
She had spent this day like the ones before it, practicing the exercises that disciplined her mind and body, watching the information tapes that KR Aspundh gave to her, learning all that was known to the Hegemony about what sibyls were, and did, and meant to the people of their worlds. The sibyls of this world attended a formal school, where they were sheltered and protected while they learned to control their trances — as she had learned, more uncertainly, from Clavally and Danaquil Lu on a lonely island under the sky.
But besides the rigorous basic discipline, Aspundh and the other sibyls of the Hegemony learned about the complex network of which they were a part, the vast reach of the Old Empire’s technological counter spell against the falling darkness. They understood that the Nothing Place lay in the heart of a machine somewhere on a world not even a sibyl could name; and the knowledge gave them the strength to endure its terrifying absence, which had nearly destroyed her with her own fear.
They learned the real nature of their power: the capacity not only to ease the day-to-day burdens of life, but to actually better it; to contribute to the social and technological growth of their world more profoundly than even the greatest genius — because they had access to the accumulated genius of all human history… if only their people had the wisdom, and the willingness, to make use of that knowledge.
And they were taught the nature of their unnatural “infection,” how to use its potential to protect themselves from harm, how to protect their loved ones from its risk. A sibyl could even bear a child. The artificial virus did not pass through the placenta’s protective filters — ensuring the birth of children who might not share their mother’s temperament, but who would have more chance than most of becoming sibyls to a new generation. To have a child… to lie in the arms of the only one she would ever love, and know that they could be all to each other that they had ever been…
Moon sat up, startled out of her reverie by the sound of someone coming toward her across the patio. But he loves another now. The memory of the thing that separated them now, more than just a gap of distance and time, hurt her abruptly as she saw KR Aspundh approaching.
“Moon.” He smiled a greeting. “Shall we our evening stroll take?” Every evening he walked down through his gardens to the small building of pillared marble in the heart of a shrubbery maze, where the ashes of his ancestors rested in urns. The Kharemoughis worshiped a hierarchy of deities, neatly extending their view of a stratified society into the realm of heaven, and incorporating the pantheon that watched over the Hegemony’s other worlds. On its first tier were a person’s revered ancestors, whose success or failure determined their child’s place in society. Aspundh paid homage devoutly to his own ancestors; Moon wondered if a father’s success made it easier to believe in his divinity.
She got up from the swing. Each evening she joined him on his walk, and in the privacy of the gardens they discussed the questions her day’s studies had left unanswered.
“Are you warm enough? These spring evenings are chilly. Take my cloak.”
“No, I’m fine.” She shook her head, secretly defiant. She wore the sleeveless robe she had picked out on the threedy shopper’s-guide show. She had the feeling that even the sight of a bare arm embarrassed these people; she resented being forced to wear more than she wanted to, and so she wore less.
“Ah, to have a hardy upbringing!” He laughed; she felt a small frown form. “You’re not your lovely smile tonight wearing. Is it because tomorrow you back to the spaceport must go?” They began to walk together, Moon controlling her strides to match his slower steps.
“Partly.” She looked down at her soft slippers, the pattern of the smooth stones underfoot. Silky would spend hours crouching over them in fascination… She would even be glad to see him again, more glad to see Elsevier; to escape from the stifling perfection of this world’s artificial beauty. She looked forward to these evening walks, but during the day KR was preoccupied with business and ALV oversaw her studies, making certain that discretion was maintained while a young girl of questionable background stayed in her father’s house. ALV treated her respectfully, because of the trefoil at her throat; but ALV’s very presence could turn her every move into a clumsy stumble, a spilled bowl, a broken vase. ALV’s relentless sophistication made mispronunciation fatal, questions gauche, and laughter unthinkable. This was a world afraid to laugh at itself, afraid of losing control — control of the Hegemony, control of Tiamat.
“Do you feel that you more time need? I think there’s little more I can you teach… and time is critical now, unfortunately.”