Part 2 (2/2)
”That's how we got it here in the first place.”
”s.h.i.+t, but up to the Observatory? And we don't know if she's even home. The phones are still out.”
”She's usually home on Shutdown Day,” Tinker said. ”She transmits data from her home computer. If she's not, well, we'll just drive on to Mercy Hospital. If they won't take him, I don't know, maybe we'll drive out to Monroeville and see if we can find a vet.”
”Monroeville? You mean drive to Earth?”
”We are on Earth.”
”We're in Pittsburgh,” Oilcan said. ”Pittsburgh hasn't really been part of Earth for a long time.”
”Yeah, we'll go to Earth if we have to.”
It took longer than she thought to fill up the flatbed's gas tanks, jury-rig a power supply for the trailer, disconnect the city's power connections, rig a sling under the trailer, and use the crane (magnet turned off) to lift the trailer carefully onto the flatbed and secure it. She made sure that they had Windwolf's sword and pistol; if he lived until Startup, they'd deliver him and his weapons to the nearest hospice. Tinker found the abandoned cancel spell, folded the paper carefully so the rune itself wasn't creased, and tucked it into her front s.h.i.+rt pocket. If things went wrong, perhaps the spell could still work after Windwolf died, severing any magical bond between them.
The trailer's now-empty air-conditioning slot conveniently fit up against the flatbed's back window, allowing her to crawl between the trailer and the truck's cabin. Oilcan would drive, being the more cautious of the two of them, and certainly also the more patient. Tinker made sure everything was green with Oilcan, then slithered through the hole to ride beside Windwolf.
”What is happening?” Windwolf peered through slit eyes, his voice paper-thin.
”We're moving the trailer to someone that can help you.”
”The house is moving?”
”Yes.”
He closed his eyes and exhaled a very slight laugh. ”And you humans used to think of us as G.o.ds.”
The Allegheny Observatory sat high on a hill, deep in an old city park. A steep and twisty road wound up to it. In the winter, the road made an excellent bobsled course. In the middle of the rainy night, in a teetering trailer, with a dying elf, it was nightmarish. The Rim, however, cut through on the other side of the park, taking out one vital bridge to a saner route. nightmarish. The Rim, however, cut through on the other side of the park, taking out one vital bridge to a saner route.
At the turn of the millennium, the district of Observatory Hill had apparently been struggling; the gate effect, and the loss of the bridge, had killed it completely. Whereas in other parts of Pittsburgh, the Rim remained a sharply marked borderline between Elfhome and transported Earth, here a young forest of Elfhome trees, a mile in from the Rim, stood in testament to how much of the neighborhood had been lost. None of the houses had actually been torn down; a scattered number still stood, lurking like undead under the trees. Some of the buildings had caught fire, whole blocks burning to rubble before the fire department could check the blaze's progress. The rest had just been whittled away: the windows, the doors, the sinks, the toilets, the copper pipes, and finally the nails. Little by little, they'd been looted by those desperate for finished building materials. Soon only sodden white piles of plaster would be left.
Now Observatory Hill was just a commune of scientists huddled around the Allegheny Observatory bulkhead. A hundred years ago, the area had been moneyed, and stately Victorian homes remained, refurbished to act as dorms for the transient scientists. Mean age hovered at twenty-seven, postdoctorate but still under the authority of older, well-established scientists on Earth. Every thirty days the population changed. Because of the Observatory, lights were low, but always on. The astronomers studied the parallel star system during the night. Xen.o.biologists studied the alien life during the day. They shared resources of backup generators, kitchen facilities, cooking and cleaning staff, and computers.
Lain Skanske's home sat near but apart from the dorms. A pristine white fence guarded a lush garden of roses, hosta, laleafrin laleafrin, and tulilium tulilium. Lain called the garden her consolation prize for giving up a life in s.p.a.ce after being crippled in a near-fatal shuttle accident.
Oilcan pulled the flatbed to a stop, headlights aimed at the front door of Lain's grand Victorian home, and called back, ”Tink, we're here!”
Tinker slid into the cab beside him. ”He's still alive.” She had spent the ride wis.h.i.+ng she had asked Windwolf about the cancel spell in his few moments of awareness. There seemed no polite way to say, ”What does this do? Do you mind if I cast this on you before you die?” to a man mauled while protecting you. She had kept her silence. Besides, there was still hope. ”I'll go see if Lain's home.”
”It's four in the morning, Tink.”
”Well, if she's in town, she's here, then.”
Lain's house had a ma.s.sive front door with leaded gla.s.s sidelights extending the entrance out another two feet on either side. The doorbell was an ancient device-one turned a key located in the center of the door, and the key spun a metal spring coiled inside a domed bell bolted to the other side. Tinker had broken it as a child; last year, she had fixed it in an act of adult penitence. She spun and spun the key now, making the bell ring unendingly.
Lights came on, starting from the lab in the back of the house. Lain came up the hall, her figure distorted by the lead gla.s.s and the shuttle accident. The xen.o.biologist had trained to study the life in the seas of Europa. Crippled, she'd found a second chance studying the alien life of Elfhome.
”Who is it?” Lain called as she came.
Tinker stopped ringing the bell. ”It's Tinker!”
Lain opened the door, blinking in the flatbed's headlights, leaning heavily on her crutch. ”Tink, what in the world? This better not be another tengu you're bringing me.”
”A what?”
”A j.a.panese elf. Related to the oni. Sometimes it looks like a crow.”
”I've never brought you a crow.”
”In the dream I had last week, you brought me a tengu, and wanted me to bandage it. I kept on telling you that it was dangerous, but you wouldn't listen to me. We bandaged it up, and it turned you into a diamond and flew away with you in its beak.”
”I'm not going to be responsible for dreams you had.”
This was the way conversations tended to go with Lain. Tinker was never sure if she liked talking with Lain. They were never direct, easy-to-understand conversations, and were thus an annoyance and a treasure at the same time.
Lain pulled an umbrella out of a stand by the door and stepped out into the wet to thumb it open. ”Well, the phones haven't started working yet, so I might as well deal with this emergency now. You couldn't have picked a worse day to bring me something to treat.”
”If this weren't Shutdown Day, I wouldn't be coming to you with this.”
At the flatbed, Lain collapsed the umbrella, set it inside the chest-high door, unlatched her crutch, put it beside the umbrella, and then reached up and swung gracefully into the trailer. Lacking Lain's height and reach, and with one hand nearly useless, Tinker scrambled up in a less dignified manner.
Running off the flatbed's electric, Tinker had only managed to set up two lights. The dimness hid the worst of Windwolf's condition. Still, the sight of the bandaged elf seemed to shock Lain.
”Oh, my,” Lain said. ”It is a tengu.”
”I am not a tengu,” Windwolf whispered.
”Close enough.” Lain shrugged, picking up her crutch. ”What happened?”
”He was attacked by dogs,” Tinker said. ”A pack of them-really ugly and bigger than wargs. They were magical constructs.”
”They were Foo dogs,” Windwolf whispered.
Lain limped to Windwolf and eyed his many wounds. ”Foo dogs. Can tengu be far behind?”
”A good question.” Windwolf sighed. ”Do you understand the strictures of the treaty between our people?”
”Yes,” Lain said.
”Do I have your pledge that you'll abide by it?”
”You'll trust my word?”
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