Soothsayer

by Mike Resnick

  “How much are your rooms?” asked the Mouse.

  “Eighty credits a night. One hundred if you want the one with its own bathroom.”

  “We'd like three rooms, please,” she said, as Penelope and the Mock Turtle entered the house. “Including the one with its own bath.”

  “Only got two,” said the man. “Your green friend will have to make other arrangements.”

  “We'll take two, then,” said the Mouse with a shrug. “The little girl and I can double up.”

  “Only got one in that case.”

  “If you don't accept aliens, why don't you post a sign to that effect?” demanded the Mouse.

  “That's the first alien I've seen in almost thirty years,” answered the man. “Only been renting out rooms for the last seventeen.”

  “Since there's no sign to the contrary, we'll take two rooms,” said the Mouse firmly.

  “I only got one to rent,” said the man.

  “Look,” said the Mouse. “We've come a long way, and we're tired and hungry. We want two rooms.”

  “I know what you want,” said he man. “You keep it up, and you might find yourself sleeping out in a cornfield.”

  “You keep it up, and you might start wondering what your ugly little world looked like when your head was still attached to your shoulders.”

  The Mouse felt a hand tug at the sleeve of her tunic.

  “Offer him more money,” said Penelope.

  “Why should I?” said the Mouse. “He hasn't posted any restrictions.”

  “Mouse, just do it,” said Penelope wearily.

  The Mouse shrugged and turned back to the old man. “Five hundred credits a night for two rooms.”

  “A thousand,” replied the man.

  The Mouse was about to protest, but Penelope squeezed her hand, and nodded her approval.

  “All right. A thousand.”

  “In advance.”

  The Mouse dug into the pouch where she kept her valuables, pulled out a thousand credits, and slapped them down on the table.

  “Up the stairs,” said the old man, indicating a wooden staircase. “First two rooms on the left.”

  “Where are our keys?” demanded the Mouse.

  “Where's your luggage?”

  “That's none of your business.”

  The old man seemed to consider her answer, then opened a drawer and pulled out two keys.

  “Thanks,” said the Mouse sardonically.

  “If you don't like our service, you can always go to our competitors,” said the old man.

  “You could use a little competition,” snapped the Mouse.

  “We got some,” he replied with a broad grin. “Another boarding house, halfway around the planet. Just a good stretch of the legs.”

  The Mouse picked up the keys and led the way upstairs. When she reached the landing, she handed one of the keys to the Mock Turtle.

  “Why didn't you say anything?” she demanded, still furious.

  “What was there to say?” responded the alien placidly.

  “I've seen you shoot the Yankee Clipper down in cold blood, so don't tell me that you've been taught to turn the other cheek. Why didn't you stand up for your rights?”

  “The Soothsayer did not instruct me to argue.”

  “And if the Soothsayer tells you to jump off the edge of a cliff, will you do so?”

  “Most certainly,” replied the Mock Turtle.

  The Mouse muttered an obscenity and entered her room, followed by Penelope. The Mock Turtle watched her for a moment, then entered its own room.

  The Mouse's room contained two narrow beds, a dresser with a large mirror, a rocking chair, a pair of small throw rugs—one between the beds, the other just outside the door to the bathroom—and each wall was covered with two-dimensional photographs of the old man at the desk, an equally aged woman, and number of middle-aged men and women, and children of various ages from infancy to young adulthood, which the Mouse assumed were their children and grandchildren.

  “There's no holo set,” noted Penelope.

  “I'm surprised there's a window,” said the Mouse. She sighed deeply. “Well, let's see what the facilities are like.”

  She walked to the bathroom door and waited impatiently.

  “Open,” she commanded.

  The door remained shut.

  “Try the handle,” said Penelope.

  The Mouse reached for the door's hand and twisted it.

  “I'll be damned!” she said. “Do you know how long it's been since I've seen one of these?”

  She entered the bathroom, grimaced when she discovered that there was no Dryshower, walked to the tub, said “Hot", waited for a moment, then shook her head in disbelief and turned the faucet.

  “How do people live like this?” she muttered.

  She bathed, dried herself, and got back into her clothes, then rejoined Penelope in the bedroom.

  “I don't think I'd better wash Maryanne in real water,” said Penelope, sitting cross-legged on her bed and looking thoughtfully at the doll. “I was hoping the bathroom would have a Dryshower.”

  The Mouse sat down on her own bed.

  “We have more important things to worry about,” she said.

  “I know,” answered Penelope seriously.

  “When will they start arriving?”

  “Soon.”

  “Today?”

  “I think so.”

  “How many of them?”

  “Today? Just one ship.”

  “Can you tell who's aboard it yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Carlos and the Kid, perhaps?”

  Penelope frowned. “I hope not.”

  “If you're still afraid of him, why are we sitting here waiting for him?” asked the Mouse, puzzled.

  “I told you: we're all through running away.”

  “Why here? Why weren't we all through running away on Calliope or McCallister?”

  Penelope shrugged. “It just feels right here.”

  “Well,” said the Mouse with a sigh, “I suppose it makes sense after all. Most of the ships that were chasing us got left behind at McCallister.” She paused. “I wonder what would happen if we went back to the ship right now and took off again? How many more of them would we lose?”

  “They'd catch us before we reached the next world and kill us,” said Penelope.

  “No they wouldn't—you're much too valuable to kill.”

  “They wouldn't mean to,” said the little girl. “They'd try to disable the ship—but it's not very sturdy. The first time it was hit, all three of us would die.”

  “So that's why we're through running?”

  Penelope nodded her head.

  “Shit!” said the Mouse. “I was hoping it was because you saw some way to make them finally stop chasing us. I didn't realize it was because we'd die if we kept running away.”

  Penelope sighed deeply.

  “Whatever happens here, at least it will finally be over,” she said. “I'm so tired.”

  “I know,” said the Mouse sympathetically.

  There was a momentary silence, as Penelope continued brushing dust from the doll. Finally she turned to the Mouse.

  “Can we eat now?”

  “Sure,” said the Mouse. “I don't know if the restaurant has any food the Mock Turtle can eat, though.”

  “It will hurt his feelings if we don't ask him to come,” said Penelope.

  “If he has any feelings,” said the Mouse, remembering the little scene at the desk.

  “Everyone has feelings, Mouse,” said Penelope.

  The Mouse sighed and tousled the girl's blonde hair. “I know,” she said. “I guess I'm just tired, too.”

  They left their room and knocked on the Mock Turtle's door. The alien emerged a moment later.

  “Have they arrived?” it asked.

  “We're hungry,” said Penelope. “We're going across the street to eat at the restaurant. Would you like to come with us?”

&nb
sp; “If you so wish it, Soothsayer,” said the Mock Turtle.

  “I think we should stay together,” said Penelope.

  They walked down the stairs and past the desk, which was now deserted. The Mouse opened the door, almost stepped on a small, catlike marsupial that had been sunning itself, and headed off toward the restaurant, followed closely by Penelope and the alien.

  “Mouse?” said Penelope, when they had covered half the distance.

  “What is it?”

  “Whatever they charge us for the food, pay it.”

  “But the Turtle can't even eat human food,” said the Mouse. She turned to the alien. “Can you?”

  “No,” answered the Mock Turtle.

  “So why should I let them overcharge us?” continued the Mouse. “If they object to his presence, he can wait outside.”

  “Pay it,” said Penelope. “It's not polite to make him wait outside.”

  “At this rate we'll be out of money by tomorrow night,” said the Mouse. “I'm sure the Turtle will understand.”

  “We won't need the money by tomorrow night,” said Penelope.

  “Why not?”

  “Because whatever's going to happen will be over by then.”

  “Let's be optimistic and assume we're all going to live through it,” said the Mouse. “If we do, we'll need money.”

  “If we do, then you'll take if off the bodies of the people who don't live,” answered Penelope, dismissing the subject.

  She climbed the steps of the restaurant's broad veranda, then paused to look at a wooden porch swing. “That's very nice,” she said. “Can I sit on it when we're through eating?”

  “I don't know why not,” said the Mouse, still preoccupied with what the girl had just said about the impending events.

  They entered the restaurant, which consisted of eight tables, all empty, each covered with an inexpensive, faded tablecloth. A pudgy, middle-aged woman walked out from another room and approached them.

  “Can I help you?” she said coldly, regarding the Mock Turtle with open contempt.

  “We'd like to have lunch,” said Penelope.

  “Too late for lunch,” said the woman.

  “Dinner, then,” said the Mouse.

  “Too early for dinner.”

  The Mouse walked to a table and seated herself. “We'll wait,” she announced, signaling Penelope and the Mock Turtle to join her.

  The woman disappeared into the room from which she had emerged, then came out again a moment later.

  “All we've got is stew,” she said.

  “What kind of salad do you have?” asked the Mouse.

  “I said all we've got is stew.”

  “What's it made of?”

  “Beef and vegetables,” said the woman.

  “Can you make more if you have to?”

  “I suppose so. Do you plan to eat twelve pounds of it?”

  “No. But I want you to take some of those vegetables you would use to make more stew, and make me a salad,” said the Mouse.

  “You ever have a salad made of potatoes before?” asked the woman with a harsh laugh.

  “No, and I don't plan to have one now. However long it takes to make a simple salad, I'll wait.” She paused. “We'll all wait.”

  “I'd like some stew, please,” added Penelope.

  The woman jerked a thumb in the Mock Turtle's direction. “What does it eat?”

  “Nothing, thank you,” said the alien.

  The woman turned on her heel and left the room.

  “I've never seen a place like this,” said the Mouse. “You'd think they'd never met an alien before.”

  “Probably most of them haven't,” said the Mock Turtle. “Killhaven is an insular, isolated world.”

  “Then they ought to be curious.”

  “It is my experience that your race manifests its curiosity in unusual ways,” said the alien with no show of emotion. “This experience is not unfamiliar to me.”

  “Then why are you risking your life to save one of us?” asked the Mouse, suddenly feeling defensive.

  “Because she is the Soothsayer,” said the Mock Turtle, as if explaining the obvious to a small child.

  The pudgy woman suddenly reappeared, placed a garden salad before the Mouse and a plate of stew in front of Penelope without uttering a word, then turned to leave.

  “We'd like some water, too,” said the Mouse.

  She glared at the Mouse, then left and returned with two glasses of water a moment later.

  “Thank you,” said Penelope, as she left again.

  The Mouse began eating her salad, made a face, and searched through it for a sign of dressing. She couldn't find any, and finally she shrugged and continued eating. “You know,” she remarked, “I get the distinct feeling that they're not very happy to see any of us.”

  “They lead very rigid, insular lives,” said the Mock Turtle. “We have disrupted them.”

  “But we can't be the only visitors they've ever seen,” said the Mouse. “After all, they do have a hotel and a restaurant.”

  “They are probably patronized by farmers who come to town to shop for seeds and supplies, and by off-planet agents who come here to buy the crops.”

  “Perhaps,” said the Mouse.

  “We make an unlikely party,” continued the Mock Turtle. “Furthermore, you and I are both heavily armed, nor did we announce our arrival in advance.”

  “Well, I hope they're no more hospitable to the others when they show up,” said the Mouse. Suddenly she grinned. “Maybe they'll all starve to death trying to get service here.”

  As if on cue, the pudgy woman returned to the dining room.

  “That'll be five hundred credits, cash,” she announced.

  “Five hundred credits for one bowl of salad and one plate of stew?” demanded the Mouse.

  “If you don't like the price, you shouldn't have eaten the food,” said the woman.

  “Mouse...” said Penelope softly.

  The Mouse looked at the little girl, then pulled some bills out of her money pouch.

  “How much of a tip do you think we should leave?” she asked caustically.

  “I don't want any tip from you,” said the woman. “Just pay up and leave.”

  The Mouse handed over the money.

  “We'll leave when we're ready to,” she said.

  The woman glared at her. “When the shooting starts, just see to it that you're not in my restaurant.”

  “What shooting?” asked the Mouse.

  “Don't play dumb with me,” said the woman. “We heard on the subspace radio that there's a bunch of bounty hunters bound for Killhaven. Since no one here has broken any laws, it stands to reason that you're the ones they're after.” She paused. “I want you out of my restaurant. If we had any police here, I'd turn you in myself.”

  “I told you,” said the Mouse coldly. “We'll leave when we're ready.”

  Penelope reached across the table and laid a hand on the Mouse's wrist. “It's all right, Mouse. I'm through eating.”

  “All right,” said the Mouse, getting to her feet. “Let's go try out that swing.”

  “I don't want to any more,” said Penelope.

  “Don't let her frighten you,” said the Mouse, still angry.

  “I'm not afraid of her, Mouse.”

  “You're sure you don't want to sit on the swing?”

  “I'm sure,” answered the girl.

  The Mouse shrugged. “All right,” she said. “Let's go back to our room.”

  They left the dining room, walked out the door, and started climbing down the steps of the veranda.

  “Well, maybe it wasn't xenophobia after all,” said the Mouse.

  “Maybe it wasn't only xenophobia,” the Mock Turtle corrected her.

  They began walking back to the rooming house. When they were in the middle of the dirt street separating the two buildings, Penelope suddenly froze in her tracks.

  “What is it?” asked the Mouse solicitously.
<
br />   “He's here already.”

  “He?”

  Penelope stared fixedly at a point just beyond the Mouse's left shoulder.

  “Him!” she whispered.

  The Mouse turned and saw two men standing at the door of the hotel. One was the Forever Kid.

  “Hello, Mouse,” said the other. “You led us one hell of a chase.”

  “Hello, Carlos,” said the Mouse.

  29.

  “Come no closer,” said the Mock Turtle.

  “And who are you?” demanded the Iceman.

  “I am a friend of the Soothsayer,” replied the alien. “That is enough for you to know.”

  “So she's the Soothsayer now?”

  “And I am in her service.”

  “If she was anyone else in the galaxy, I would say that she needed all the friends she could get,” said the Iceman. “I suppose you know that half a dozen ships are due to land before nightfall.”

  “Yes—but you are the only one she fears,” said the Mock Turtle. “Keep your distance.”

  “He's not going to touch the little girl,” said the Forever Kid. He turned to the Mouse. “I'm still on your payroll; I figure that includes protecting the girl.” He paused. “Unless you want the rest of your money back, that is.”

  “Keep the money,” said the Mouse as an enormous surge of relief swept over her. “You're still working for me.”

  “Well, Iceman?” said the Kid. “We haven't settled what we were going to do when we caught up with them. It seems to me that it's about time we found out where you stand.”

  “We have time, yet,” said the Iceman. “Anything we decide right now is going to be disputed by a dozen or more bounty hunters. If we start shooting each other, there will be that many less of us to stand against them.”

  “Why should we believe you, Carlos?” demanded the Mouse.

  The Iceman stared into the little girl's eyes. “Tell them,” he said.

  “He's not going to do anything to me at least until we're safe from the others,” said Penelope.

  “What about later?” asked the Mouse.

  “I don't know.”

  The Mouse turned to face the Iceman once again. “Carlos?”

  “She doesn't know because I don't know,” he replied.

  “I'm still wondering if I can trust you,” said the Mouse.

  “It is impossible for the Soothsayer to err,” said the Mock Turtle tranquilly. It began walking toward the rooming house. “Come. Let us go inside and make our plans. We are very visible targets here on the street.”