The cage slid up into the gondola and the safety locks reengaged with a thud under their feet, muffled now by wood and carpet.
Sparrow folded back the door to reveal that the cage was tucked into an alcove of a richly paneled hallway. "I have clothes for her; they'll need fitting. First, though, she'll have to have the barnyard washed off her. Go, clean her."
Tinker bristled. "I can speak low tongue quite well. And I'm fully capable of washing myself."
"Then do so. We have much to do before we arrive at Aum Renau. You must be fit to be brought before the queen." Sparrow bowed curtly and shot a hard look at Pony to collect a bow from him. Once Pony had paid his due to her, she flowed away, a shimmer of white and cerulean.
"This way, domi," Pony murmured to Tinker, indicating that they were to get out of the way of the arriving Wyverns. He led her down the hallway that cut through the center of the gondola. Behind them, the gossamer's crew prepared to cast off the moorings. There was an odd unpredictability to the floor that hadn't been that noticeable standing still; it shifted right and left, up and down minutely, so that each stride felt like a misstep.
Rooms were carefully balanced off either side of the hallway. The first door stood open, revealing an observation room, all done in creamy white and accents of red, with a bank of windows open to sky. Three elf females sat surrounded with bolts of Faire silk, laughing as they worked with the material. They looked up as Tinker paused to glance in at the view, and they went into stunned silence at her appearance.
"Pardon," Tinker stammered, and started to bow out of reflex. Again Pony caught her shoulder and shook his head. "Why do you keep doing that?" she whispered as she fled the doorway.
"You are higher caste than Sparrow and those females," Pony said. "There is no one on board that you should bow to."
"Oh." Tinker pointed to her forehead. "The dau?"
"Yes, the dau, and that you are now Windwolf's domi." Pony opened a door and stepped into a small room of hand-painted ceramic tiles. The motif was phoenix and flame flowers—a riot of reds and oranges on pristine white. "This is the bath. Do you wish to be attended?"
"No!" she cried, then eyed the room. Having been practically raised by Tooloo, she thought she knew how elves bathed—just like humans. The room certainly challenged her notion of this. She recognized the bathrobe hanging on a hook, but there were no faucets. There was what looked like a pull chain dangling next to a spout, but it was at knee level. "This is a bathroom?"
Pony considered the question carefully and then nodded. "Yes." He leaned into the room—he seemed loath to actually enter it—and lifted up a wooden disc sitting on a wide waist-high shelf. Beneath it was a large circular tank of steaming water. "This is the pesh." He replaced the lid. "Bae." This was a wide shallow bowl. "Giree." A dried hollow gourd. "Safat." A sponge-looking… thing.
"Soap?" she said hopefully.
Thankfully there was soap, heavenly scented, in a paste form close enough to bar soap that she could wing it. Pony handed the soap crock down off its shelf, then stood there, distressed. "I can get an attendant to help you."
"I can wash myself." Yeah. Sure. "Just—what's the pull chain for?"
Pony winced. "The wash water." He pointed to the low spout. "You fill the basin and pour it over you, then use the soap and the safat, and rinse again, then into the pesh to soak."
"Ah, I see." Seemed a damn uncomfortable way to wash, but she supposed it saved water. No wonder Tooloo stuck to human showers. "I can handle it from here."
The cold-water scrub was bracing—she'd rather never do that again. The tub's water seemed hot enough to melt her into a careless puddle, but she found herself worrying about everything. Why did the queen want to see her? Was Windwolf in some type of trouble for using the Skin Clan magic? How was she going to stand being so short and plain in a herd of high-caste elves? And why did Sparrow have a dau mark? Had the female been human in some distant past?
Pony tapped on the door. "Domi, pardon, but Sparrow does need you to fit your clothes."
It took every ounce of courage to climb out of the tub, tie on the bathrobe, and unlatch the door.
Pony looked as unhappy as she felt.
"What's wrong?" she asked him, trying not to clench the bathrobe tight around her. It covered her neck to ankles and then some, but still she felt naked in front of him.
"There is much for you to know before you meet the queen, what is proper and what would be unspeakably rude. It is not my… place to tell you these things, for I am just sekasha—but there is only Sparrow, and I'm afraid she's taking a kaet."
"A kaet?" She giggled; it was a purposely rude way of saying Sparrow was throwing a snit. "Why?"
"I suspect she's jealous of you."
"Of me?"
"She had ambitions to become Windwolf's wife." Seeing the look on her face, Pony added quickly. "No, no, they are not old lovers. There are some who make alliances with marriages, where two work together well, and they agree to make it a partnership. But that would not suit Windwolf."
"Are you sure?"
"I have known Windwolf all my life, and I believe I see him with clarity, whereas Sparrow—age only makes you wiser if you stay honest with yourself."
"Why does she have a dau?"
"Windwolf's father marked her when she was young to raise her out of the kuetaun caste, otherwise the sekasha would have never listened to her orders."
Ah, yes, the snobbery of elves. Like it or not, she was stuck dealing with it now. "What does the queen want with me anyhow?"
"She wishes to see you."
"Me? Why? I'm just a snot-nosed Pittsburgh teenager with an interesting ear job."
Pony nodded several times, as if ticking off her words in an effort to parse them. "Yes," he finally said, still nodding. "Exactly."
"What?"
"You are a young elf. All things elfin fall under the queen's power. Now that you are elfin, so you are now her subject."
"Automatically? I don't get any say?"
"No more than when you were born in Pittsburgh and fell under Maynard's power."
She wanted to say that was different, but she couldn't decide how. The fact that her conception was far from normal—perhaps paralleling her transformation into an elf—gave her a very unstable base to argue from. "Does she do this with every elf?"
"No. You are, however, now her cousin."
"What!"
"You are now her cousin," Pony repeated, more slowly.
"How did that happen?"
"You married Windwolf."
"He's her cousin?"
"Yes, which, by law, makes you her cousin too."
It was such a sane reason that Tinker found it comforting.
"Please." Pony indicated that she was to head back to the observation room. "Sparrow has a gown ready for you."
Tinker winced. "Oh, I don't like the sound of that."
"Why not?"
"In my own clothes, I'm still me. I can't see the change, so I don't notice it."
"I am sorry, but it will be better if you look your best."
Fortunately—in a manner of speaking—only Sparrow was in the Observation Lounge. The other females had been banished to another part of the ship, most likely because of the limited space in the room. Pony took up a post by the door and practiced at being invisible.