Nathan did not question her further. They had arrived at the garish entrance to the "Orbit", a two story tavern a little larger than its neighbors. Nathan had heard his father mention the place as the unofficial headquarters of half the brigands on the spaceways.
The noise of gambling and of drinking and tavern music poured out upon them as they neared the place beneath the red brilliance of the sign overhead.
As Firebird stepped through the door, she threw back the crimson cape and tipped her chin a trifle higher. The tinkle of gambling chips and glasses halted and the babble of noise hushed. Firebird strode towards the bar, unmindful of the stares.
Nathan came more slowly. He heard whispering, first at Firebird, then at himself. His hands stayed close to his flame lances.
At the bar, the squat-faced bartender, Louey, was pale and flushed by turns. His mouth gaped at Firebird as she said, "Tokeela, please."
Louey chattered, "You're supposed to be dead. Somebody seen you. You were dead for sure."
"And now I'm alive for sure. I don't know what you are talking about, but hurry with that Tokeela."
Louey shook his head as if to clear the vision he had seen. He brought the drink and some of the same for Nathan who was surprised that the place even served the mild, nonintoxicating drink.
Nathan wondered about Louey's remark. How had the rumor of Firebird's death been started? What was its significance?
As they picked up their glasses the babble slowly resumed, but Nathan knew they were still the center of attention.