Part 16 (1/2)
”What does the government get out of this?” Tinker unrolled the spiral coffee roll, tearing off bite-sized pieces. ”I know there's a price hidden in there somewhere.”
”The U.S. gets insurance that the Chinese don't get a land-based gate first.”
”Why does the U.S. want a gate?”
”Part of it is that they're used to being the ones with the new toy, and it annoys them to no end that the Chinese have something that they don't. But there's also a fear of what a land-based gate can and can't do. What if it lets you travel through time, or to several dimensions? If the Chinese get it first, they're not going to share information any more than they've shared details on the gate.”
”I'm not going to leave my cousin,” Tinker said.
”He could come with you,” Durrack said. ”We set him up a new ident.i.ty. He could pick out a name nicer than Orville or Oilcan. He could go to college too. I hear he's an intelligent young man-it seems a waste for him to spend his life as a tow truck driver when he's got the smarts to be anything he wants. It could be a great opportunity for him.”
Durrack would say anything to manipulate her, but it didn't make it any less true. While Oilcan occasionally stated that Earth had been too big and crowded, he complained about the lack of people their own age and temperament. He hovered around the Observatory, drawn to the women postdocs, but was never able to do more than watch them come and go.
The NSA agents waited for her response.
”Let me talk to my cousin. See what he says.”
”We can take you over to his place.”
”Oh, stop pus.h.i.+ng,” Tinker said. ”I'm going to take a shower, and then go shopping for clothes. I've got a date tonight.” And Nathan wasn't going to be happy about any possibility of her leaving town; his whole family clung to Pittsburgh, refusing to leave. ”And I've got lots of hard decisions to make. So just go away; leave me alone to figure out what I want in life.”
Tinker took the well-worn path down through the steep hillside orchard, carefully avoiding the beehives, to Tooloo's store at the bottom of the hill. The store itself was a rambling set of rooms filled with unlikely items, many ancient beyond belief. One section was secondhand clothes, where Tinker often found s.h.i.+rts, pants, and winter coats. Some of the clothes were elfin formal wear that Tinker drooled over from time to time but never found any reason to buy. Even secondhand they were pricey.
There was an odd collection of general goods, but the main focus of the store was food-often the rarest items to find in Pittsburgh. In an area behind the store, Tooloo had an extensive garden and various outbuildings: a barn, a henhouse, and a dove coop. She had fresh milk, b.u.t.ter, eggs, freshwater fish, and doves all year. During the summer, she also sold honey, fruit, and vegetables.
Tooloo herself seemed to be an eclectic collection. Locals referred to her as a half-breed, left over from the last time elves visited Earth. Tooloo certainly had the elfin ears, spoke fluent Low and High Elvish, and could be counted on as having in-depth knowledge on matters arcane. Unlike any full elf, she looked old, a face filled with wrinkles and silver hair that reached her ankles. Her elfin silks were faded and nearly threadbare, and she wore battered high-top tennis shoes.
Whereas Lain was a known quant.i.ty, comforting in her familiarity, Tooloo refused to be known. Asked her favorite color, it would be different each time. Her birthday ranged the year, if she would admit to having one. Even her name was unknown, Tooloo being only a nickname. In eighteen years, Tinker had never heard Tooloo mention anything about her own parentage.
If Tinker's grandfather was the source of Tinker's scientific thinking, and Lain the source of all common sense, then Tooloo was her font of superst.i.tion. Despite everything, Tinker found herself believing a found penny meant good luck, spilt salt required a pinch thrown over the shoulder to ward off bad luck, and that she should never give an elf her true name.
Thinking about what she'd say to Oilcan about the NSA proposal and her date with Nathan, Tinker wasn't prepared for Tooloo's reaction to recent events.
”You little monkey!” Tooloo swept out of the back room that served as her home, shaking a finger at Tinker. ”You've seen Windwolf again, haven't you? I told you to stay away from him.”
Tinker turned her back so she didn't have to look at the scolding finger. ”You've told me lies.”
”No, I haven't. Only bad will come of this. He'll swallow you up, and nothing will be left.”
”You said he marked me with a life debt.” And as Tinker said it, she realized that Tooloo had told the truth, only the half-elf had twisted it somehow. ”You didn't tell me that he was in debt to me.”
”It's a curse, either way.” Tooloo came to rub the mark between Tinker's eyebrows. ”Oh, he's got his hands on you now. The end begins.”
”What do you mean?”
”What I've said all along-but then you've never listened. You come asking again and again for the same story and go away not listening despite how many different ways I tell you.”
”It can't be the same and different at the same time.”
”Windwolf is dangerous to you,” Tooloo used the scolding finger again. ”Is that simple enough for you? I've tried to keep you hidden all these years from him, but he's found you now, and marked you as his.”
Tinker realized suddenly that as one of the few people in Pittsburgh who spoke High Elvish, Tooloo would have certainly been the one asked about Tinker's ident.i.ty after the saurus attack. ”I don't understand.”
”Obviously.” Tooloo snorted and moved off to rearrange stock.
From years of dealing with Tooloo, Tinker recognized that the conversation had come to an impa.s.se. She changed the subject to the reason she was at the store. ”I have a date with Nathan Czernowski. We're going to the Faire.”
”Ah, what is with you and fire?”
”What does that mean?”
”It's dangerous to offer a man something he wants but that can't be his.”
”Why can't it be his?”
Tooloo caught her chin. ”When you look at Czernowski, do you see your heart's desire?”
”Maybe.”
”You know your heart so little? I don't think so. You do this to satisfy that little monkey brain of yours. Curiosity is a beast best starved.”
”Nathan wouldn't hurt me.”
”If only the same could be said of you.”
Tinker stomped to the clothes, trying to puzzle that warning out. Was it something in the water that made older women impossible to understand?
At Tooloo's she found an elfin jacket. Or at least, on an elf it was a jacket. On her it was a duster, coming down nearly to her ankles. The sleeves were slightly long, but she could fold them back. A mottled gold silk, it had a purple iris hand painted on the back. She fell in love with it but could find nothing to complement it, so she took her hoverbike into Pittsburgh in search of an older self.
Kaufmann's was a Pittsburgh tradition, the oldest department store located downtown. It had withstood flood, suburbia, the invasion of foreign department stores, and being transported into the fey realms.
”I need some clothes to make me look more mature,” she told the saleswoman in an area marked ”Women's,” who pointed her firmly toward ”Pet.i.tes.” She found a push-up bra that made the most of her chest, a clingy black slip dress, and high-heeled shoes.
”I need a cut that makes me look older,” she told the hairstylist, who eyed her hacked hair with slight dismay.
”Did you tattoo yourself, sweetheart?” the stylist asked, gingerly touching Windwolf's mark on Tinker's forehead.
”Umm, ah, it's a long story.” Remembering Nathan's reaction to the mark, Tinker raked her hair forward with her fingers. ”Is there any way I can cover this with my bangs?”
”What bangs?” The stylist found the longest lock and pulled it forward to show that it fell short of the mark. ”Sweetheart, at this point all you can do is wear it proudly.”
In the end, the stylist could do little more than even out the length of her hair and then rub a gel into it so it stood up in little spikes. ”It's retro chic,” the stylist chanted. ”Very elegant.”
The makeover woman eyed Windwolf's mark and p.r.o.nounced it extremely cool.
”Is there anything that will cover it up?”