Joker Moon by George R. R. Martin

Author:George R. R. Martin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

Michelle headed back to her tent. Sand, layered with dirt and sweat, was making her skin itch. Her platinum hair had gone a nasty shade of yellow and there were purple hollows under her eyes from lack of sleep.

Inside, Bastet was lying on her cot staring upward.

“Bubbles,” Bastet said dully. Her black fur was covered in dust, turning it a dingy gray. “Sobek asked you to look after me, yes?”

Michelle nodded. “Yes.” It was miserably hot and she was too tired to pretend otherwise. The end flaps of the tent were open and an anemic whisper of wind blew through them.

“It’s ridiculous.” Bastet sat up, grabbed her canteen, and took a long swallow. Some of the water trickled out the side of her mouth. She held the canteen out to Michelle, who took it and drank, too. “I’m here doing what needs to be done. My people are dying for the sin of changing into something others can’t understand.”

“I’m here because I was on some stupid TV show doing nothing useful at all,” Michelle said.

“You could have stayed in America,” Bastet said. “You don’t need to be here.”

“At the end of the day, if they come for you, they’ll come for me, too.”

“I daresay they wouldn’t,” said Bastet, then suddenly, “I’m so tired.” Her shoulders slumped and her head dropped into her hands.

Michelle reached out and patted her arm. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “None of us are doing that great right now.”

Bastet nodded. “I hate all this killing. It seems like you’re not affected by it at all.”

Michelle drew back as Bastet looked up at her. “I am,” Michelle replied, trying to keep her voice neutral. She could tell Bastet was suffering, but her words had wounded. “It’s awful, but they’ve left us no other choice. Sometimes there aren’t any good choices.”

“Do you suppose you would have come here were it not for the war?” Bastet rocked back and pulled her knees to her chest. “Would you have cared about us?”

“I don’t know,” Michelle allowed. “I wasn’t exactly political before my card turned, but now that it has, I’m not sure I have a choice.”

Bastet nodded. “Maybe none of us has a choice anymore.”

Michelle sighed. “Especially jokers.” She couldn’t figure out why someone would care about Bastet’s joker anyway. Her head was only a little larger than normal size, not the size of a real cat’s head, which would have been deeply odd on her average-human-sized body.

“I’m not a joker,” Bastet said huffily, glowering at Michelle. “I’m a God.”

The way she said it made Michelle want to laugh, but she couldn’t blame the Living Gods for choosing to be called gods. Given the choice between being a god—including having actual followers—and being just a joker, well, Michelle knew which end of that equation she would be on.

“I’m sorry.” Michelle smoothed her dirty khaki-colored pants. “I don’t know much about any of the jok … Living Gods. And I don’t know anything about you at all. I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours.

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