"Not even, like, shoot stuff or make your arm go really far?"

"No ma'am."

    "You - words -"

"Yes ma'am. I can translate between languages that I know."

It seems like maybe that wasn't what Daska meant, though.

"How many languages do you know?"

"Four, ma'am, but only one from this world."

"Ah, okay. And no more robot stuff?"

"No ma'am."

    "Poetry," Daska finally comes up with. "Lots."

"Oh. Yes ma'am, I can recite poetry."

    "Without a book."

"Oh, cool. Like, a record?"

"I can repeat a reading I've heard or read a book aloud myself, ma'am, either one."

Eager nods. She looks where the other urchin went. "I don't think whispers is going to come back, but I want to hear a poem."

"Yes ma'am. What kind of poetry do you like?"

"The pretty kind."

"Yes ma'am." She thinks for a few seconds, and then:

"Who can say,
is it a snowy heron
or a white flower
standing

at the glossy edge
of the lily-
and frog-filled pond?
Hours ago the orange sun

opened the cups of the lilies
and the spotted frogs
began kicking their long muscles,

breast-stroking
like little green dwarves
under the roof of the rich,
durasteel water.

Now the soft
eggs of the newt
in their wrappings of jelly
begin to shiver.

They're tired of sleep.
They have a new idea.
They want to swim away
into the world."

[source]

"That's pretty!" Bounce. "But I should find the coward." Daska is offered a hug.

Hug!

    "Deskyl would like to know if you think they're going to be okay, ma'am."

        "Um. ...like anybody? Not..." she gestures vaguely. "Not easy fixed."

    "Yes ma'am."

Deskyl looks thoughtful, and they continue on their way.

The street urchin departs to find the other street urchin. They make other stops that go similarly. Not everyone believes that DZ is a machine, but no one really makes a point of testing the claim.

Finally, they go to Daska's mentor, not far from the place where Deskyl and crew first manifested.

Daska's mentor works in a pottery shop; the girl points out the storefront before leading Deskyl and DZ around to the back, past heaps of clay and drying pots to the workshop itself.

Daska's mentor - Kraya - has her hair tied in a messy ponytail. She is putting the finishing touchings in a colorful clay mug, a wide brush in her hand, a finer brush in her mouth. Kraya looks up when they come and waves hello to Daska. And approaches them smiling with the brush absently forgotten in her teeth.

"Kraya! Sorry didn't - haven't been... was busy. Deska," she leans indicatively on her taller counterpart, "and Deezee," she nods at the droid. "New, new world. Deska wants-" she cuts herself off and gestures for DZ to finish the explanation.

    "Deskyl is going to arrange for Daska to go to school, ma'am, and she didn't want to worry you."

Kraya gives Daska an inquisitive look, inspecting if she is okay with this arrangement.

She seems pretty happy!

Kraya grins. Starts to speak and realizes the brush. With one hand she absently puts the brush away. With the other she motions between Daska and Deskyl's faces, poiting out the similarities.

"Same, yeah."

    "It seems that some people repeat between universes, ma'am, and the magic that brought us here was looking for people who are repetitions of Miss Daska."

Kraya blinks at this. Looking more closely at Deskyl, apparently making sure she is okay. "Authorities knows?" She says the first words they hear from her, a croak of a sore throat.

"We're being hosted by The High Library, ma'am, I expect they've told everyone who should know."