The Summer Queen

TIAMAT: Carbuncle

“…as you can see on your displays, the record clearly supports Citizen Wayaways. The data shows both a desire among the people and an historical precedent for replacing the Summer Queen with one chosen by the Winters on our return. This is usually done during what they call the Festival, when they celebrate the Prime Minister’s visit.…”

Echarthe’s data flashed on the screen in front of Gundhalinu where he sat, surreptitiously folding a scrap of food wrapper into smaller and smaller triangles. He looked up, his hands hidden below the edge of the torus table that dominated the council chamber. His eyes touched briefly on the members of the Judiciate and his government staff seated around him; he pictured the Summer Queen’s Sibyl College and the Tiamatan civic leaders who had once occupied those same seats. Only one figure was unchanged from that image to this one… Kirard Set Wayaways.

He found Wayaways looking back at him, as if the Tiamatan had had him under observation all the while. Wayaways smiled faintly, knowingly; that smile which he had come to detest more than any expression he had ever seen on a human face, because it had the ability to blind him like a beam of light with his own irrational, gut-knotting rage.… He forced himself to meet Wayaways’ stare unflinchingly, closing the fist of his concentration around his anger, suffocating it with self discipline.

Wayaways had insinuated himself into the awareness of everyone in this room, become a constant presence in their halls. He was the official representative for the City Council, lobbying for the return of the mer hunts—working against the Queen whose most loyal supporter he had once been, according to rumor.

He had come to Gundhalinu’s office a few weeks past, oozing charm and secret knowledge, hinting with barely concealed malice that if the Judiciate did not grant permission for the mer hunts to begin again, he would provide the Council with certain information about the real nature of the relationship between the Hegemonic Chief Justice and the Summer Queen.

Gundhalinu had listened in silence, and then played back to Wayaways the record of everything he had said, which Gundhalinu had discreetly edited even as he spoke, eliminating all the potentially incriminating details, leaving only a damning litany of attempted bribery and coercion. “I know you have friends,” he had said softly. “I have friends too. Leave now, while you’re still free to do it.”

Wayaways had taken him at his word; there had been no more direct attacks. Instead, Wayaways had simply gone around him, gotten to the other members of the Council behind his back. He no longer pressured them directly to reinstate the mer hunts, because Gundhalinu had overridden the Council’s vote and ruled that it was traditionally a matter of Tiamatan law, and under the Summer Queen’s control. And so Wayaways had followed him doggedly down that path of argument, and turned Tiamatan law back on him, in one swift, vicious thrust.

“I question the claim that a majority of Tiamatans are dissatisfied with the Queen and want her replaced,” Gundhalinu said. “This data is hardly proof of that. And even if it was, we are not in a position to rule on deposing her—”

“We aren’t talking about deposing her ourselves, Justice,” Echarthe interrupted. “Their own traditions will take care of that. I’m only recommending we see to it that they carry those traditions out, when the Assembly finally arrives.”

“Then we’d really have cause to celebrate,” Sandrine said, with a sour smile. “If that Motherloving bitch was gone, and Winters were running things, it would solve our whole problem with the local government giving us the access we need to the water of life.” Laughter and murmurs of agreement spread around the table.

“Bigotry and threats against a local head-of-state are not something I consider a subject for humor,” Gundhalinu snapped. Beside him, Vhanu raised his eyebrows.

Sandrine frowned, his irritation showing. “I wasn’t aware that I was saying something humorous.”

“Either that, or treasonous,” Gundhalinu said, feeling himself frown. “I’ve made it plain that prejudiced behavior toward the people of Tiamat is not acceptable from our Police force. It is not acceptable from members of my government either.”

“BZ,” Vhanu murmured in Sandhi, gently nudging Gundhalinu’s arm. “We’re among friends here, after all. We’re all Technician, we understand each other. A situation like this is difficult enough, under the best of circumstances, and the circumstances are hardly the best. Allow us a little slack, won’t thou?”

Gundhalinu took a deep breath. “I suppose thou’re right,” he said softly, answering in Sandhi. The language of his own people was beginning to sound alien to him again, he realized. He had even begun to think in Tiamatan.

“You have defended our rights as a people eloquently since you’ve come here, Justice Gundhalinu,” Wayaways said. “My people are deeply grateful to you for that.” He lifted his hands in something like a shrug. “Why are you suddenly against something like the Change, which has been a tradition of ours far longer even than the cycle of your departures and returns?”

“Precisely because it is such an ancient tradition,” Gundhalinu said, under control again. “There is a new order here now, and the laws of the Change no longer serve any useful function. It has become an act of barbarism. I’ve supported most of the innovations that your Queen made during our absence, because they were positive, and in keeping with the kind of relationship I want to build between our peoples, now that our relationship has become permanent. But human sacrifice is something which has become indefensible—”

“But it’s a part of our religious system.” Wayaways pointed at the data on the screen, his voice taking on an indignant edge. His eyes mocked Gundhalinu, coldly knowing. “You defended the Queen’s protection of the mers on those grounds, did you not? Shouldn’t we be the ones to determine whether the Change rituals still have a meaningful function for us? Do you have some particular personal interest in the Summer Queen’s well-being, that makes you resist anything that might threaten her?”

Gundhalinu felt Vhanu’s eyes on him suddenly; heard the other officials around the table begin to murmur among themselves. “I’ve stated my reasons for restricting the practice. I don’t need to defend them further,” he said flatly.

“The fact remains, Justice,” Vhanu said, “that removing the Summer Queen would be in our best interests. She’s an intractable fanatic. She reigns for life, and she’s not likely to die of natural causes any time soon. I think we should seriously consider this opportunity to get rid of the Queen.”

Gundhalinu looked at him, away again quickly, unsure of his own expression.

“The Prime Minister and the Assembly are going to raise bloody hell if they don’t find the water of life waiting for them,” Borskad, the Minister of Trade, said.

“And riots instead of celebrations,” Wayaways murmured. “I can guarantee that feelings will run high, that there will undoubtedly be public protests and even incidents of violence, if you attempt to suppress a ritual which is such a fundamental part of our culture.”

“Are you threatening the Hegemony, Citizen Wayaways?” Gundhalinu asked, his voice brittle.

Wayaways stiffened, and settled back into his seat.

“The Prime Minister and the Assembly are figureheads, with no real power,” Gundhalinu said impatiently, meeting other stares around the table, “and absolutely no understanding of the complexity of the issues involved here.”

“But the Central Committee has plenty of influence,” Tilhonne said. “My uncle has already threatened to come here himself and find out what in the name of his sainted ancestors is going on, if we don’t reach some kind of compromise with the Queen. If we have riots when the Assembly comes, that will be all he needs to start an investigation. And that could ruin all our careers.” He looked exceedingly unhappy at the prospect.

Gundhalinu barely controlled a frown, aware that Tilhonne’s concern was well-founded. He had autonomy here only as long as he did nothing that attracted too much negative attention. He stared at the Hegemonic Seal, the Eight Worlds symbolized by a sunburst on the wall across the room.

Other voices around him were rising now, impatient, full of concern—all of them anxious about one thing, he was sure, and it was not the well-being of Tiamat’s Queen.

“I move that we vote to accept the petition brought to us by Citizen Wayaways,” Borskad said, registering the motion on his screen. “That there will be a full Change, including the return of Winter to power by the traditional practices of their own theocratic rituals.”

“I won’t allow it,” Gundhalinu said. His hand moved to his touchboard, clearing the screen with an automatic veto.

Echarthe touched his own board again; one by one the others around the table did the same, as Wayaways watched, smiling, hands in his lap. Gundhalinu watched their feedback tally. As the votes became unanimous against him Borskad’s motion reappeared, inexorably, on all their screens.

“Overridden, Justice,” Borskad said. He cracked his knuckles complacently. “The Tiamatans must be permitted to control their own government.”

“I won’t allow it,” Gundhalinu repeated tonelessly. “I’ll have the Police stop them.”

“You can’t do that, BZ,” Vhanu murmured, beside him. Gundhalinu turned, looking into his eyes. “Only I have that authority,” Vhanu said. Gundhalinu saw regret and discomfort in his gaze, but no doubt at all. “You can’t stop it.”

Gundhalinu turned back, seeing the resolve and determination in all their faces. “Damn it, I will not permit the Queen to be sacrificed!”

“There’s no other choice, Justice,” Borskad said bluntly. “The Hegemony wants the water of life. We have to get it for them, one way or another, or they’ll find someone who can.”

“There’s no other way.” Vhanu shook his head. “That woman and her troublesome demands are going to cost all of us our positions here—including your Chief Justiceship, BZ. I would rather see the Queen sacrificed than our entire government, wouldn’t you? After all the years of effort we put into achieving this goal, 1 for one am not ready to lose everything. But that is what will happen.”

“Unless—” Wayaways dropped the single word among the rest, let its ripples spread until there was complete silence.

“Unless what?” Gundhalinu forced himself to ask, knowing that his visible humility and hidden humiliation were required elements in Wayaways’ equation.

“Unless you change your previous ruling and permit the mers to be hunted. Then we can all have what we wanted in the first place—the Hegemony gets the water of life, Tiamat profits from it, and you get to save the Queen. That way everyone is happy … except the Queen, perhaps, but I expect even she would prefer disappointment to death. I’m sure the people would agree to let her continue as Queen as long as we get what we want. She was actually quite an enlightened woman, for a Summer, until she developed this unfortunate religious fixation on the sacredness of the mers. …”

The mutterings began again around the table; their tone was positive this time, urging him to agree. Wayaways sat in their midst without speaking, staring directly at him cross the torus of burnished native wood.

“It makes a lot of sense,” Vhanu murmured in Gundhalinu’s ear, his voice both encouraging and conciliatory.

Gundhalinu looked away from him, tightlipped, and back at Wayaways again. The mers die or the Queen dies, Wayaways’ eyes said to him. You choose. “All right….” Gundhalinu looked down. “All right,” he said again, his voice stronger, as if he were actually in control of the situation. “I’m rescinding my ban on the mer hunts. But there will be no more sacrifices, no more Changes in the old way. Summers and Winters will have to work out some other way of doing things from now on.”

“You are as wise as you are fair, Justice Gundhalinu,” Wayaways said, and smiled.

“The Council meeting is adjourned.” Gundhalinu blanked his screen, and crushed the food wrapper into oblivion in his hidden fist.