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enough ground to tell the sprookje she would not attack it. The sprookje s
cheek-feathers settled a little. Settled enough, Tocohl saw, for it laid its
bouquet carefully onto the table and stepped hastily back.
The second sprookje did likewise. The third looked at the table, looked
at Edge-of-Dark, and, fluffing all its feathers to twice normal size,
it stretched out its arms to offer its bouquet directly to
Edge-of-Dark.
Edge-of-Dark inched forward to take the gift, holding the chattering
sprays as delicately as the sprookje had.
Good for you, said Buntec it was obviously she who held Maggy s arachne and
the sprookje echoed her. How about that, Buntec went on, sounding twice as
pleased, you may be a pain in the butt, but at least you re not
chicken-shit.
Buntec s words and echo seemed to reassure the others as well: each of the
remaining sprookjes delivered its burden directly into Edge-of-Dark s
arms, as if the act were a matter of pure course.
Edge-of-Dark, dazed and grinning from behind her armload of sprigs and vines
and stalks, began to look like an artistic composition of her own design.
A hand touched Tocohl s shoulder, her spectacles cleared, and she smiled back
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at Om im.
Megeve couldn t have stopped it, he said with enormous satisfaction. He
couldn t have killed enough of us to stop it.
So I see. Tocohl tapped the frame of her spectacles with a fingertip. But
I d like a closer look.
The spectacles instantly provided a close-up of Edge-of-Dark. Thanks but
no, Maggy, I mean I m coming out.
Om im offered his shoulder for support. As Tocohl got to her feet,
layli-layli calulan said, I
suppose there s no point in arguing with you?
None at all, Tocohl assured her, but she reacted to the twinge
in her side as she straightened I will take it easy.
I think she means it, said Om im, lifting a brow at Tocohl in surprise.
That s less of an argument than we got from Maggy on the subject of waking
you.
Maggy doesn t have a pain in her side. But Tocohl released his shoulder and
walked slowly to the
doorway on her own. The pain was there but no longer so bad she would be
unable to function.
Om im thrust aside the membrane and bowed her into the sunlight, where she
stood, dazzled by the confusion.
The sprookjes had been granted front row center at two separate shows.
Edge-of-Dark made art of the plants they d brought her, and beside layli-layli
calulan
s cabin, Dyxte was up to his elbows in the red mud, planting a stand of
tick-ticks. Sprookjes gathered around both, paying such rapt attention that
their echoing was only haphazard and intermittent.
Around each crowd of sprookjes, small knots of surveyors watched and recorded,
trying for all their excitement not to startle or to distract the sprookjes.
In the hush their gestures and their movements shrieked cacophony. Buntec, now
holding the arachne at waist-height, grinned from ear to ear, while Hitoshi
Dan s grin began at the tips of his toes, shot his eyebrows up, and ran out
his extended arms to spread the fingers of both hands wide. Kejesli shrugged
one-handed. Van Zoveel first turned out his thumbs in puzzlement, then
shrugged back at Kejesli with a down-turned palm. John the Smith jockeyed for
position with Tryn Ilan of Dusty Sunday who was only trying to find a better
camera angle, not assert authority.
Tocohl closed her eyes, made momentarily giddy from the sudden full impact
of it all. Her hand reached out, found Om im s shoulder beneath it.
Ish shan? Are you all right?
She opened her eyes. For a fool, I m fine. Grinning down at him, she added,
I know your secret.
And I ll bet you can t tell the sprookjes apart right now.
He obliged her by looking, first at one group, then the second, then up
again at her, perplexed.
You re right. They all look alike.
They re too interested in Edge-of-Dark and Dyxte to worry about their toes.
That s not much of an explanation.
I know. But I ve got to find Megeve s sprookje before I can give you a better
one.
He looked again. I can t help you.
Having finished planting his tick-ticks, Dyxte rose and came toward them,
trailing his collection of sprookjes. Good, he said to Tocohl, warming the
perfunctory GalLing with a thump of his fist to his heart, you re awake.
Would you be willing to sacrifice that cloak of yours in a good
cause? His sprookje echoed his request.
For art s sake? Tocohl said. She sighed. There s not much left of it, but
you re welcome to the remnants. Inside.
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He thanked her with a spread palm and slipped past Om im, who turned out two
fingers and said, in surprise, That s Megeve s sprookje, Ish shan, but it
didn t echo you!
It doesn t recognize me in all this noise, she said, adding to herself,
at least, I hope that s the explanation. This would take conscious
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