There was the round-faced brown-skinned human boy who laughed heartily and wanted to know who the hell would want to become an elf fag anyway, and then made it even more disconcerting by looking conscious and apologizing to Tick-Tick.

There was the tall, slender, silver-haired beautiful girl whose only sign of her halfie blood was a pair of undisguisable honey-hazel eyes, who looked down at me with haughty amusement and asked if the people who’d developed the drug had started by turning sow’s ears into silk purses.

There was the elfin knight with thin features and a brush cut, who thought the drug sounded like a good idea, since it could make it possible for Bordertown to be entirely elven without having to force anyone out, thus allowing the inhabitants to make a start on achieving a golden age of civilization. Then his brushed-aluminum-colored eyes widened as he realized what he’d said, and he apologized to me.

Those were only the most articulate ones. I’m leaving out the people who glared, who mumbled, who had something they had to do somewhere on the other side of town—not because we were asking uncomfortable questions, but because one or the other of us was the wrong species.

We were sitting on the wall outside the Antler Brewery at the corner of Ho and Wildwood (I was swinging my feet; Tick-Tick’s reached the sidewalk) when I finally said, “I don’t think I’m stupid. Or naive. Am I?”

Tick-Tick thought about it. “I suppose it depends on the subject, really.”

“Thank you very much. No, I’ve always known that B-town has its share of dipsticks. I just didn’t think they were as high a percentage of the population as this. And in my line of work, I’ve met a lot of people in this town.”

She looked at me, a little aslant and rueful. “I was afraid you were noticing the miscellaneous lapses of manners.”

“Whatever subjects I’m naive about, racial and ethnic slurs aren’t among ‘em. What’s happening here?”

The Ticker was silent for what was, in the context of the conversation, a long time. “You know,” she said at last, “a human who truly hated and feared fey things, or one of my folk who hated and feared humans, might prefer to leave misplaced things misplaced, than to come to you.” After a moment, she added, “I don’t say it to hurt.”