"River sharks? Flesh-eating plants? You two are teasing me, right?"
"No," the cousins both said.
"There's a list of safety procedures that they usually hand out," Tinker said. "If you didn't get one, it's posted on the dorm's bulletin board. You really should read it; this isn't Earth."
Ryan glanced about the picnic grove with the red-checkered tablecloths on the picnic tables, the teams of scientists playing volleyball, and a portable stereo playing neon rock music. "Actually, things don't seem any different."
"Give it time." Oilcan cut Tinker's hamburger, peered at the center, and lifted it off the grill. "Here you go. Medium cooked."
"Are there buns?"
"Picky, picky, picky." Oilcan went off in search of a bun for her.
Ryan watched him go with a look that made Tinker view her cousin with a new eye. One had to admit he had mighty fine assets.
"Can I ask you," Ryan said hesitantly, her eyes still following Oilcan, "if your cousin has a girlfriend?"
"Look, you seem nice, but you're not staying. It might seem fun to you, to go to Elfhome and date a cute local, but it's not fair to Oilcan. Thirty days is just long enough to break his heart."
Ryan turned to consider her. "You've given this speech before."
"Every thirty days."
"Sorry," Ryan said. "They said that the elves don't socialize much with humans; I suppose it would seem like the same thing to them—here today and gone tomorrow."
Tinker winced. Did Windwolf view her the same way Oilcan saw the astronomers?
Oilcan came back with a bun lying open on a paper plate. "There. Tomato, lettuce, spicy brown mustard, chopped red onion, and real Heinz ketchup—the stuff made on Elfhome, not that new plant on the other side of the Rim on Earth."
"Oh, you know me so well it's scary." Tinker paused, considering the bun and her still overflowing plate. "Excuse me." She took the second plate. "I'm going to have to sit down to finish."
Lain slid onto the bench beside Tinker as she finished the hamburger. "How's your hand?"
"Good." Tinker licked her fingers clean and showed Lain her palm.
Lain examined it quietly, nodding at the pale scars. She closed up Tinker's hand, ending the examination, but continued to hold it. "I want to warn you about elves bearing gifts."
"Huh?"
"Windwolf gifted me with a new garden."
Tinker looked without thought in the direction of Lain's house, but the swell of Observatory Hill was in the way. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Yes, that is the question, isn't it?"
Tinker winced at her carefully neutral tone. "What did they do?"
"They were very considerate in putting everything they dug up into pots. And I have to say that the specimens they planted are stunning. I dare guess that I have a garden to rival the queen's now."
They'd dug up Lain's flowers? Lain's work made it almost impossible for Lain to return to Earth. In Pittsburgh, she was as much an exile as she would be on Europa. And more importantly, the garden of Earth flowers she loved was a salve for not being in space.
"Oh, Lain, I'm sorry."
Lain hid away some of the pain in her eyes. "I can't say I'm completely displeased. Much of the garden would not have survived the root damage that the truck did. It would have taken me weeks just to fill the ruts. The new plants are all extremely valuable; it would have taken me years of wheedling to get any one."
"But it's not your garden of Earth flowers."
"No," Lain admitted. "It's not."
"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."
Lain gave her a small, sad smile that vanished away before a look of true worry. "I'm nervous about what Windwolf might gift on you."
"Me?"
"There's no telling what he might decide to give you."
"I doubt he'll give me anything. There's still the matter of the life debt. Windwolf said that we weren't even." Tinker choked to a halt. We drove all over Lain's flower beds… I told her I would go to college to make it up to her…
Oh, gods, he didn't replace the flowers because of what I said—or did he?
"Tinker?"
What else did I say? But she couldn't even remember exactly what she had said. The conversation was a feverish blur. Had she asked for anything for herself? Old fairy tales cautioning against badly worded wishes loomed suddenly large.
Lain watched her, worry growing.
"Can I turn it down?" Tinker asked. "Anything he might give me, if I don't like it?"
"Windwolf might not give you a chance to say no."
Tinker thought about it. What could he possibly give her that would be bad? "What do you think he might give me?"
"I'm not a superstitious woman, but our legends never have good to say about gifts from the fey."
"I'm not sure he's going to give me anything, Lain. He says we're not even."
Lain's eyes narrowed. "Did he say it in Elvish or English?"
Tinker paused to think. Windwolf had woken her up in the trailer, and they'd shouted at each other. But in what language? "English."
"Then it might not mean what you think it means, Tinker."
She thought it had been fairly straightforward, but Lain had much more experience dealing with elves. She recounted the conversation the best she could remember and ended with, "So, what do you think he means?"
"I'm not going to hazard a guess," Lain said. "But be careful around him. He meant well with my garden, but it was done in the arrogance of an adult catering to a child. He believes he knows what is better for us."
"Oh, great. I've got enough of that type of people in my life already."
"Tinker." Lain gripped her hand tightly. "I know I've pushed you into this college thing; I did it in the name of your own good. I've had a taste of my own bullying, and I'm sorry. Of all people, I should have realized that I was asking you to go alone to another world. If you don't want to go, you don't have to. I release you of all pledges."
The elves said that: I release you of all pledges. The irony of it kept Tinker from cheering. Knowing Lain, though, it might have been her reason for using the phrase. So Tinker said, "I'll think about it."
Dusk fell slowly. As the sky darkened and the stars started to peek out, the conversation turned from the world left behind, the experience of Startup, and the rustic amenities that the scientists found in the dormitories, and focused on the sky itself.
First Night was always fun; it was like watching children discover Christmas. Since it always rained during Startup—the warmer returning Earth air colliding with the chillier Elfhome climate—this was the scientists' first real sight of Elfhome's stars. Their faces were turned upward at the winking lights, and they murmured reverently, "Oh, wow!" Once Tinker's eyes adjusted, she could see the upraised hands, pointing out sights. As always, the cry of "Look at Arcturus!" went up. The elves called it the Wolf's Heart, on the shoulder of the constellation they called the First Wolf. One of the brightest stars in the sky, Arcturus was also the fastest moving; there was a fifteen-degree difference between the star of Elfhome and Earth.
"I can't believe this is the same sky we were looking at two days ago," someone close at hand said with awe. "A twenty-mile drive south, and all the constellations shift. Look at Corona Borealis! It doesn't look anything like a C anymore."
"Twenty miles south, and a side step into another dimension," another voice corrected the first speaker.
Because they would need to share the big telescopes, they all had personal telescopes set up. After minutes of fiddling, they excitedly swapped views.
"There are new stars in the star formation region of the Eagle Nebula—"