“What about your staff?”
So they could see him. Even in the near blackness. He showed no reaction, deliberately not looking for the peephole through which they were viewing him.
“It is a symbol of my order. It is not a weapon.” A white lie, because it could be a weapon, of course, even though he would never use it against them. He waited, but no one spoke. He started to ask them if he could come inside, but stopped himself. It would be better to let them make that decision without any pressure from him.
“Tell us who you are looking for,” the speaker said. “I’m not sure. I have never met this person. I have something that will tell me who it is. A talisman.
That is what led me here to you. It tells me that the person I am looking for is inside.”
“Can you describe who it is?”
He shook his head, and then said, “No. The talisman will point the person out to me. If you will give me a chance to use it.”
Further muttering, longer and more intense this time. An argument was taking place, but it was difficult to tell its nature. He tried to think what else he could tell them that would make them open the door.
“We don’t know whether to believe you or not, but it doesn’t matter. We don’t let anyone inside but members of our own tribe. The older girl’s voice was firm. “One of us might agree to come out, but you will have to convince us that it’s a good idea.”
Logan nodded, mostly to himself. “What can I tell you that will help?”
“Tell us everything. Tell us how you came by your talisman. Tell us how you knew what it would do. Tell us why any of this matters.” A pause. “We will know if you are telling us the truth, so don’t lie. We will also know if you mean us any harm.”
He thought about it a moment. Was there anything he couldn’t tell them? He scanned it through in his mind, then decided there wasn’t. What difference did it make what they knew about his purpose in coming here? What mattered was that they let him inside so that he could throw the finger bones and discover whether the gypsy morph was there or not.
“All right,” he agreed.
He told it all to them. Of his mission as a Knight of the Word, of his meeting with Two Bears, of the origins of the gypsy morph, of his search to find it, of his journey west and his arrival here, in the city. It took him awhile, but he didn’t rush it. There were no interruptions from the other side of the door. There was only silence.
But when he was finished, a new voice spoke out instantly, a little girl’s voice. “It is the vision, Owl! Hawk’s vision!”
“Your story, Owl!” another voice said, this one male, young. “Of the boy and his children!”
There were hurried whispers and urgent warnings of “hush” and “be quiet”— five or six voices, at least, all speaking at once. Logan thought he heard the name Candle, as well, but he couldn’t be certain. He waited for the muttering to die down, trying to stay patient.
Finally, the older girl said, “I don’t know, Logan Tom.”
Another voice, darker sounding, older, too, said, “Frickin’ bunch of bull!
I don’t believe any of it!”
Everyone began talking at once, but he could tell that they were all kids, none of them, save perhaps the girl who had spoken first, old enough to be called a grown-up. Any attempt at keeping their numbers hidden had been forgotten, and all the talk now was about whether or not he was to be believed.
Then the little girl—Candle, he guessed—shouted at them suddenly. “Open the door! He is here to help us. He is not here to hurt us. I would know. We have to let him in and see what his talisman tells us!”
The argument resumed for a moment, and then one of them— the older girl, perhaps—hushed the others into silence.
“Will you put down your staff, Logan Tom? Will you turn around and face away from us so that we can make certain that you mean us no harm? Will you do that? Will you stand there and let us make sure of you?”