“Uh… I broke the disk,” Bredon said.

“Yes, I know. You want to collect, I presume. I said I would grant you any favor within my power. What would you like?"

Now that the moment of truth had arrived, Bredon found himself horribly nervous. Looking up at Geste in his glistening clothing, standing blithely unsupported a good four meters off the ground, Bredon could not help remembering all the childhood tales of people who had dared too much, and of wishes gone wrong. One man who had been granted wishes by Brenner of the Mountains, and had used them for cruel revenge against all who had ever slighted him, had had everything he owned, including his home and family, taken by Rawl the Adjuster to balance the scales. A woman who had demanded unlimited wealth of Hsin of the River had almost starved to death surrounded by the mountains of gold she had asked for, piles of coins that had blocked every exit from her house. A young couple who had intruded on the demesne of Gold the Delver with some harmless request had never been heard from again; Bredon's own maternal grandmother, as a girl, had known that pair personally.

And that did not even touch any of the stories about people who offended the Powers directly, as his request might well offend Lady Sunlight. There were the guests who insulted Isabelle, and the girl who matched her beauty against the Nymph, and all the people who ever had any contact at all with Thaddeus the Black. A large percentage, perhaps a majority, of the tales about the Powers were cautionary in nature.

But this was exactly the sort of cowardice he had castigated himself for, and despite his location and attire Geste looked harmless enough. “Lady Sunlight,” he said, forcing the answer out without preamble.

Geste stared at him for a moment, his grin broadening. This was better than he had really expected. He had guessed that Bredon would simply want to see the inside of Sunlight's house, or some other such harmless whim; he had not dared hope for anything so audacious as asking for Sunlight herself. “Just how do you mean that?” he said at last.

Flustered, Bredon could only stammer.

“You say you want Lady Sunlight,” Geste said in his most pompous manner. “Do you mean you want to own her, as if she were a beast of burden? Or that you want to take her as your wife? Or that you just want to lie with her once? Or do you merely want to speak with her?"

Again, Bredon could not answer coherently.

“I'm afraid that I can't give her to you outright,” Geste said. “That's beyond my power. She's as free as you or I. And for that same reason, I can't compel her to marry you. As for bedding her, all I can do is to do my best to assist you; I can make no promises.” He was rejoicing inwardly at the entire situation. Finding some way to coax Sunlight into this poor native's bed would tax his ingenuity to its fullest. Sunlight wanted nothing to do with any native.

“I… I don't want that,” Bredon said, losing his nerve. “I just want to speak to her.” That was a lie; he wanted very much to bed Lady Sunlight, but he did not want to become the subject of some new cautionary tale that would be told to future generations of children. Geste, after all, was the Trickster; he had a reputation for doing anything for a laugh, regardless of the consequences. Looking at Geste's expression, Bredon could readily see the comic possibilities in tricking a Power into bed with a mortal, and could also guess at just how Lady Sunlight might react. She would probably not see the humor, and might well take it out on him. She would be unable to harm Geste, but any number of mortals had been casually killed or maimed by Powers before this, and with far less cause.

Disappointment was plain on Geste's face, and Bredon was suddenly much more certain of his decision.

“All right,” Geste said. “You want to speak with her. Is that all?"

“Yes,” Bredon said, relieved. “That's all."

“You're sure?"

“Well, I…” Bredon began, amid a swarm of second thoughts-and urges that, while they did not qualify as thoughts, still had a strong influence. He drove them away with the memory of how Lady Sunlight guarded her home. If she could call on such defenses against a simple trespasser, what might she do to her seducer?

No, he dared not ask for more in regard to Lady Sunlight, but a twinge in his belly reminded him of another concern.

“Well,” he said, “if you have anything to eat, I'm awfully hungry."

Geste smiled. Oh, he thought to himself, he did love these poor people they had found on Denner's Wreck! They were so full of surprises. He supposed it had something to do with the brevity and simplicity of their lives; they didn't have the time to fall into firmly-fixed patterns, or the need to close out most of their environment in order to be able to handle its complexities. They could come up with the most astonishing non sequiturs. And their lack of material resources kept the basic survival urges always near the surface.

“Of course,” he said, “I'm sure that I can give you something that will help.” He made the sign for acquiescence to another's wishes with one hand, and the sign for descent with the other.

His command floater, still invisible, produced a foil-wrapped packet of concentrate from somewhere. It fell into Geste's waiting palm as the platform sank gently to a few centimeters above the ground.

Bredon stepped back warily as the platform brought Geste down nearly to his own level, but forced himself to stop after that single step.

“Here,” Geste said, offering a gleaming blue-silver packet.

Bredon accepted it gingerly, then stared at it, puzzled.

“It's food. You peel the wrapper off,” Geste explained. “It tears easily and comes off, like the skin of an orange."

“A what?” Bredon looked up.

“A fruit. Here, climb up on the platform and I'll show you."

“On the platform?” Bredon eyed the floating surface doubtfully.

“Yes, on the platform.” Geste tapped it with the toe of one slipper. “Lady Sunlight isn't home just now, and if I know her, if I call ahead she'll arrange not to be anywhere I call. It's much harder to not be there if we go in person, however, so we'll have to go find her, and the easiest way to do that is for you to climb up on the platform and save me the trouble of finding you any more elaborate transportation. Besides, I don't want to stoop, or step down and get my shoes all dirty, so if you want me to show you how to eat that thing, you'll have to get up on the platform."

Still reluctant, but unwilling to admit it, Bredon stepped forward. The platform's top hung at roughly the height of his knees. He hesitated, then put one foot up, expecting it to give beneath his weight.

It did not yield at all. It was as solid as a stone ledge, firmer than the floor of his parents’ house.

Startled, he picked up his other foot and nearly lost his balance when the platform still remained absolutely motionless. He knew it was floating unsupported on air, despite what his first step had told him, and he had unconsciously adjusted for a sinking, like that of a small boat or a well-sprung wagon, that never came.

He recovered quickly, and found himself standing on the platform beside the Trickster. His breath caught as he found himself looking down at a Power, mere centimeters away. The top of Geste's head was even with his own jaw.

From this angle it was easier than ever to think of Geste as a man, not an invulnerable, supernatural being.

But that was wrong, he reminded himself. Geste was not a mortal man, but one of the Powers that ruled the world. He could be anything he chose; that he chose to look harmless simply meant he was not to be trusted.

“Here, let me show you,” Geste said, reaching for something.

Startled, Bredon looked down and discovered that the mysterious packet was still clutched tightly in his right hand. He had completely forgotten it, absorbed as he was in boarding the flying platform and seeing Geste close up.