"The viceroy was nearly murdered twice," Nathan said. "And then there's the whole thing with the smuggling ring. With this many people in one place, it's the smart thing to do."
"I don't like it."
"You wouldn't have ended up tangling with that saurus if there'd been more than Windwolf and his bodyguard at the Faire."
Tinker flashed to that day, the saurus standing with a foot pinning the lower half of Windwolf's bodyguard to the ground and his upper half in its mouth. In an image that haunted her nightmares, the saurus pulled upward, stretching the guard's body obscenely long before shaking its head, tearing the male in half. She shuddered. "Let's not talk about that."
But once called up, she couldn't stop thinking about the day. Strange how she couldn't recall Windwolf's location until he was yelling in her face to run, and how, even now, she didn't remember him as wounded, only angry.
In a sudden rewrite of history that was almost dizzying, she realized that Windwolf had lost a friend that day, not only torn to shreds but also eaten. How long had they known each other? A hundred years? Poor Windwolf! No wonder he had been so angry.
"Guess." Nathan interrupted her thoughts.
"What?"
"So guess what they named the baby."
Baby? She glanced around and spotted a human woman showing off her baby to curious elves. She had always thought it odd that elves seemed fascinated by babies, but considering what Windwolf had said, a young adult elf may have never seen an infant in his or her life. She had to admit there was something intriguing about the miniaturization of a being that babies represented, but they were, on a whole, too fragile for her to deal with. She supposed that if someday she had «kids» she would have to deal with "babies" — an utterly frightening thought.
Nathan was still waiting for her to guess the baby's name and was growing impatient.
"I don't know the mother. Who is she?"
"What?" A frown quirked at the corner of Nathan's mouth as he scanned the brightly dressed crowd. "No. Not her," he said, spotting the baby being passed around the knot of adults. "My sister's baby. Guess what they called my niece."
Oh, yes, his sister Ginny lived in Bethel Park. She had been waiting for Shutdown to go to Earth in order to have her second child, but the baby came a week early, and she delivered at Mercy Hospital. When Tinker had talked to Nathan before Shutdown his sister hadn't named the baby yet.
"Oh. Um. After you?" Was there a female version of "Nathan"?
"No. Mercy. Mercy Anne."
Yuk! Tinker tried to keep her face neutral and made polite noises. Luckily they'd collided with the mass of people listening to the musicians onstage at the edge of the Faire ground. She didn't recognize the group's name, but they were a common mixed-race band, blending the raw American rock beat and guitars with traditional elfin instruments and melodies. They featured an olianuni, and an obvious master playing it, his mallets a blur as he hammered. The guitars snarled around the rich deep bell-like melody beat out by the olianuni player. The lead singer was human, growling out a song about the shortness of human life and the reckless abandonment in which the race embraced its fate. In a high pure counter, the elfin backup singer chanted out the thousand blessings of patience.
"Want to dance?" Tinker shouted to Nathan, bobbing in place to the beat of the music.
"Actually, I was working my way to something. Can we find someplace quieter to talk?"
"Okay." Still moving with the beat of the song, she threaded her way through the crowd, trusting him to find a way to follow.
"You know" — he caught up with her beside a fishing booth, where people were trying to fish brightly gleaming pesantiki out of a pool with small paper nets—"if you let me go first, I'd open up a path for you to follow."
"Then all I could see would be your back. You can see over me. Here, let's sit."
The next booth down was the okonomiyaki cart that usually sat in Market Square. Side benches folded down from it, and there were banners hanging down from the bamboo awning to give the deception of privacy.
"You're still hungry?" Nathan asked.
"I didn't get to eat a lot at the enclave." She felt a little guilty. Enclaves charged a set price that was rather steep. She held up the bag of silver dimes. "Let me pay."
"No, I'll pay." Nathan thumbed out some coins to the Asian man on the other side of the griddle.
They ordered their toppings, and the chef started to mix up the eggs, water, flour, and cabbage for the pancake.
"So?"
"The family across the street from my sister decided to emigrate back to the States, and they signed over their house to the EIA. They had a nice place: a four-bedroom Cape Cod with a two-car garage, and a natural-gas furnace with a wood burner backup system."
"Your point being?"
"Well, it got me thinking," Nathan said. "The house would be a nice starter place for you and me."
"What?" Her cry startled the chef.
"It's a nice place, well maintained. We could nab it now and move in later."
She could only stare at him in surprise.
"We put up curtains," Nathan said. "Buy a few pieces of furniture, and no one would know the difference. It needs sprucing up, so we take our time painting and such."
"You want to live together?"
Nathan took her hand. "I want to marry you."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What happened to waiting until I'm nineteen? I thought this was just a date."
"I don't mean right away. I don't want to rush you."
"I don't know—talking about marriage on a first date sounds like rushing."
Nathan winced. "Sorry, I suppose it is. It's just that this house is so perfect. My brother-in-law took me through the place. The rooms are large and sunny, the woodwork is all natural, there's this marvelous stone fireplace in the living room, and there's a level backyard for kids."
Kids?
Her face must have reflected her shock. He laughed.
"It's only eleven months until you're nineteen. In less than two years you'll be twenty." Nathan sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "We've got to look ahead. Sure there are lots of houses out there. Most of them have been standing empty for years; the pipes and windows are broken and roofs need to be replaced. This place is cherry."
"Nathan, I really meant it when I said we should date to see if we liked one another as more than friends. I don't know if I want to marry you."
There was a moment of hurt hidden quickly away. "I'm sorry, Tink; I shouldn't be pushing. I'm the one, after all, who wanted to wait until you're nineteen."
"Yeah." Tinker shook her head vigorously and then looked down, embarrassed to be suddenly so eager to wait. "Is this about the mark? You're rushing because Windwolf made me part of his family?"
"That has nothing to do with it," Nathan said, so surlily that she figured it had everything to do with it.
"Oh, come on, Nathan, he's the viceroy. He's rich and powerful and could have any woman, elf or human, that he wants."
"Exactly."
"Look at me!"
"You're beautiful."
"Not when you compare me to high-caste elf females. You've seen them; everyone on the street stops and stares until they're out of sight."
"Maybe he has a thing for human women," Nathan said.
The possibility that Windwolf might like human women made her insides go weird, like someone had dropped them through hyperspace to some point billions of miles from where she stood. She tried to root herself back to reality and ignore the possible "delicate arrangements" that the brazier might indicate. "I saved his life, twice now. He feels indebted to me. I'm an orphan. He's an elf; he's nearly twelve times my age. He's probably just acting like a father figure to me."