She smiled at Onsofruct, took out the geological report, keyed it, and turned it so that the Hag could see it.
“Your concern about the stability of Newholme’s crust is well founded.”
Onsofruct stared at her, mouth very slightly open, thinking vaguely that she and D’Jevier had been blown by their own bomblet. Though the Hags had purposefully overstated their fears, it seemed this current instability was living up to their pretended anxieties.
Smoothly, Questioner continued, “What we find most interesting about this is that the geologists can find no reason whatsoever for this increasing instability. There is no significant change in the geo-thermal variations of the mantle or the core. There is no gross change in the slow movement of the plates or the frictional heat causing upwellings from mantle through crust. Our technicians tell me, and I find this imaginative, that it is as though the world’s crust was suffering discomposure. A planetary eczema, perhaps?”
Onsofruct smiled, a humorless smile, her eyes focused on some other time or place.
Questioner shook her head with seeming sadness. “Madam, pay attention. Whatever other problems you may have here on Newholme, they pale beside this one. Whatever guilts you are attempting to hide from me, they are small beside this actual danger of destruction. Actual, proximate, and total destruction.”
“Then the Men of Business … they are right?” Her voice sounded incredulous and shrill. She cleared her throat. “I thought … I thought perhaps they had overstated the case.”
“No,” murmured Questioner. “I am amazed the Temple is still standing after that shaking this morning.”
“When we took over the building, it was retroengineered to withstand earthquake,” muttered Onsofruct. “Most of the larger buildings in Sendoph and Naibah were either reinforced or designed to be quake resistant from inception. There are always … tremors.”
“Ah … “ said Questioner. “Madam, this may sound quite silly to you, but do you have any legends or myths concerning this shaking? Hmmm?”
“Legends?” she faltered.
“Most societies have stories about natural phenomena: volcanoes, waterfalls, windstorms, whatever. Fire goddesses; wind gods; ocean deities. You have been upon this world long enough to accumulate a mythology. Do you recall any such?”
“I do,” came a voice from behind them.
They turned to see D’Jevier, who was observing Onsofruct with troubled eyes.
“My cousin,” murmured Onsofruct.
“D’Jevier Passenger,” the new arrival introduced herself. “We are close cousins, yes, but we did not share all aspects of our rearing. My cousin may not have heard a children’s story that I remember well. Did you ever hear it, Onsy? About the snake at the center of the world?”
Onsofruct flushed and glared at her sibling, who only smiled in return, saying: “Though it may be embarrassing to recount a … nursery tale, the matter does seem to be of some urgency. Surely the Questioner would not ask if it were not important.”
Some signal passed between them. Onsofruct flushed again, began a retort, then caught herself, mumbling, “Oh … well. Yes, I remember hearing it. But my cousin is correct, it’s only a children’s story. A fairy tale.”
“Tell it,” instructed the Questioner. “Sometimes we find truth in the unlikeliest places.”
“Well … let me see. The Summer Snake is curled in the center of the world, like a baby snake in an egg … “
“Why is it called Summer Snake?” asked Questioner.
“Because that is when it came,” said D’Jevier. “It came in summer, and its name is Niasa.”
“You mean, then is when it was laid?” asked Ellin.
“Laid, I suppose. Came is what I remember.”
Onsofruct resumed: “ … And there are moon dragons, Joggiwagga, who keep track of the moons, for when the moons get lined up and pushy, it makes Niasa uneasy and wakeful, and the egg shakes. So then its mother soothes … “
“Not the mother,” D’Jevier corrected. “It was Bofusdiaga.”
“I thought Bofusdiaga was its mother.” Onsofruct frowned.
“No. Don’t you recall? She was the mother, and Little Niasa was the egg. Big Summer Snake laid her egg at the center of the world, where it is nice and warm. And when she hears Little Niasa crying, she cries also, very loudly, and then the Corojumi and Bofusdiaga hear her … “