"Everything's a mystery," she said with no show of interest. "Why does it have to be a secret history? Why not a public one? After all, the public read it."
"The men and women and aliens he wrote about were alive when he wrote these verses. Many of them had prices on their heads. Still more confided in him, told him of deeds, some good, some bad, that no one knew about. You have to understand: Black Orpheus was the Bard of the Inner Frontier. He was welcomed everywhere he went. No one ever turned away from him—but to earn that kind of trust, he couldn't openly say anything more than you might find on a Wanted poster." Danny paused, his eyes still bright with excitement. "So he found secret ways to say what he wanted to say. This manuscript is to the Inner Frontier what, oh, I don't know, what Homer was to the Trojan War. Except that Homer exaggerated like hell and told everything out in the open, and Orpheus is concealing things all over the place. Including something huge, right in the middle."
"You said that yesterday. What is it?"
"I don't know. I think I'm getting close to piecing it together, but I won't know what it is until I'm done. It's as if he were holding someone for ransom, and I had the money, and he wanted to make sure the police weren't tailing me, so he ran me all over the city to make sure I was clean." He emitted an exhausted sigh. "He's running me all over the history of the Inner Frontier before I can discover what he's hiding."
"Maybe you're not supposed to find it."
"That would make a mockery of the whole thing. No, it's there—but he didn't want it to be easy." Danny looked at her. "That means it's something big. Otherwise, he wouldn't have taken such trouble to hide it. I spotted Cain and some of the others right away, but this whatever-it-is is taking a lot more work. Still, another few hours, another day or two, and I'll have it."
"Hey!" she shouted. "We're leaving today, remember?"
"We'll see."
"You promised!"
"You wanted me to promise," answered Danny. "That's not the same thing."
"Every day we stay here we increase our risk. A neighbor could report us. The police could find us. The owners could return early. We've been pushing our luck, Danny. Why can't we leave?"
"I'm still piecing things together," he said. "I don't want to stop, not even for a day."
"You act like it's some kind of treasure map."
"I doubt it. Legend has it that Orpheus died broke on an uninhabited world that he named after his dead wife, Eurydice."
"He doesn't sound all that brilliant to me," said the Duchess. "He writes little rhymes that anyone can do—"
"I told you—" Danny interrupted her.
"I know what you said. But you haven't discovered any deep dark secrets yet, so maybe there aren't any. He's famous all over the Frontier, all over the Democracy too, and he died penniless." She snorted contemptuously. "Some genius."
"Most poets die penniless," said Danny. "Anyway, I envy him."
"Why?"
"He traveled the Frontier, saw a new world every few days, lived every kid's dream, every romantic's dream. He did important work—and look at the people he got to meet, men and women like the Songbird, Father William, the Jolly Swagman, Peacemaker MacDougal, Johnny One-Note, the Angel, the Sargasso Rose. Just the names alone conjure up such fantastic pictures." He picked up another sheet and began reading:
"Moonripple, Moonripple, touring the stars,
Has polished the wax on a thousand bars,
Has trod on the soil of a hundred worlds,
Has found only pebbles while searching for pearls.
Listen to her name: Moonripple. A girl named Moonripple, who's been to a hundred worlds. Now, that's evocative—especially when you live on a dirtball like"—he grimaced—"Bailiwick."
The Duchess was unimpressed. "Read the rest of the verse. She found only pebbles while searching for pearls."
"She found a lot more than that," said Danny. "You just have to know where to look and how to read it."
"It sounds to me like she died as broke as Orpheus," said the Duchess with finality, walking to the chute. "I'm not kidding, Danny. I want to leave here today. I keep looking out the windows every five minutes, expecting to see the police surrounding us."
"Soon," he said distractedly, his attention already back on the manuscript.
Two hours later he went down to the kitchen and made some coffee.
"Well?" she demanded.
"I just need a little time away from the poem, time to think."
"To think about what, or am I going to be sorry I asked?"
"There's stuff there even Orpheus didn't know about," said Danny. "He was too close to the forest to see the trees."
"Whatever that means."
"I don't know what it means." He paused, swaying slightly from lack of food and sleep. "But I will know," he promised as he downed his coffee and went back up to the attic.
He was back down an hour later, a triumphant smile on his face.
"All right," he said. "Now we can leave."
"Why now?" she asked. "What do you think you've learned?"
"The secret."
"This is about the poem?"
"This is about the Inner Frontier," he replied. "It's all there in the poem, but even Black Orpheus didn't know how to interpret it." He shook his head in wonderment. "The greatest character of all, and he never knew!"
"Orpheus was the greatest character?" she asked, puzzled.
"No," he said distractedly. "I'm talking about Santiago!"
"That's what you learned?" she said incredulously. "Everyone knows that Santiago was the greatest outlaw in the history of the Inner Frontier."
"But he wasn't," said Danny, still smiling. "That's what I learned."
"What are you talking about?" demanded the Duchess.
"Santiago," explained Danny. "He wasn't an outlaw, not in the normal sense of the word. Oh, he did illegal things, but he was actually a revolutionary. I knew that yesterday afternoon."
"That's rubbish! Everything I've ever heard about him—"
"—was what he wanted people to hear," concluded Danny. "You asked once about bounty hunters. Here's your answer: if the Democracy had known he was a revolutionary, they'd have sent the whole fleet, five billion strong, to the Inner Frontier to hunt him down—so he made them think he was an outlaw, and all he had to deal with was a handful of bounty hunters. Orpheus guessed at that, but he never knew for sure."
"So Santiago killed all the bounty hunters?" she said.
Danny smiled again. "He tried, but he didn't always succeed—and that's the secret that's hidden in the poem, the secret even Orpheus didn't know."
"You're not making sense. How could he have stayed in business if he hadn't killed them?"