The Summer Queen

TIAMAT: Carbuncle

Tammis made his way through the halls of Carbuncle’s city medical center, more aware of the knot of tension in his chest than of anything in his physical surroundings. He did not look anyone in the eye as he passed them; glad that Merovy had shown him around the complex enough times that he could find his way to her without having to ask directions.

Most of the staff moving past him through the halls were still offworlders, strangers to him; just as virtually all of the mostly unidentifiable medical equipment that he glimpsed everywhere was imported from offworld. The offworlders seemed to have a horror of finding themselves stranded here, so far from home, without the technology to save them from any imaginable disease or emergency … although, he thought sourly, it had not hurt their consciences any to leave the people of Tiamat without it, whenever they had left this world in the past, for all the long centuries.

At least his people would have permanent access to it now, and from now on. He thought of his father-in-law’s bad back, and tried to be grateful, for Danaquil Lu’s sake. And the new Chief Justice had established the medtech training program that Merovy had joined. It was partly pragmatism, he was sure—the hospital had been severely understaffed almost from the moment the offworlders had returned.

But it had also seemed to be part of a genuine effort by the Chief Justice to create goodwill. He wondered briefly, bleakly, if the Chief Justice was doing it all only to please the Summer Queen … if what Elco Teel and the others said behind his back was true, that BZ Gundhalinu was his mother’s former lover who had returned after so many years. If it was true that when he looked into the Chief Justice’s dark, foreign face, he actually saw an echo of his own face….

His sister had stalked off furiously when he had mentioned it to her, his mothei had murmured evasions, looking pale and distracted, when he tried to ask her. He had not asked his father, because his father would barely even look at him, since the incident at his wedding feast. Merovy had said she saw no resemblance between his face and the Chief Justice’s … but she had looked away from him as she said it

Merovy. His eyes registered the halls of the medical complex again; he made his way past the shining, ascetic form of some machine whose function Merovy had explained to him once, but which he no longer remembered. Merovy… Suddenly nothing was on his mind but the reason he had come here: to see Merovy, to ask her why—? Why he had come home last night to an empty house, to a handwritten message on a page still damp with tears, which said she was leaving him; that he could come and speak to her here today. No further explanation, no other words. Although, sick at heart, he had known her leaving needed no explanation.

Someone greeted him by name—an offworlder, one of the technicians who were Merovy’s supervisors here at the hospital. “Your wife’s in 212.”

He murmured thanks, keeping his head down—sure that anyone who got a look into his eyes would read his guilt and know exactly why he had come here, why she had left him, why …

He reached the lab where Merovy was working; saw her sitting at a terminal, her thick brown hair trapped in a neat braid at her back. He saw a data model flicker and change in the air before her, watched her control its metamorphosis with deft skill and perfect concentration. Having seen her father’s suffering through most of her childhood, and seeing how the offworlders’ medicine had ended it, she had wanted to have a place in the new medical technology more than he ever remembered her wanting anything … except, once upon a time, him. “Merovy,” he said softly.

She turned in her seat, startled but not surprised. “I’m glad you came,” she said, but the words were empty.

“You asked me to.” He held out his hands, half shrug, half placating gesture. “Why couldn’t we have done this at home?”

“Because you didn’t come home last night. I waited and waited for you. Again “

“I had work to do—”

“Don’t he about it!” She rose from her seat, her face flushed. “We’ve tried to talk about it there, too many times. It never does any good.”

“Merovy … I’m sorry.” He shook his head, looking down. “This time it will be different, I swear to you.”

“You always say that! And it never changes.” Her eyes filled with tears of anger, overflowed with tears of grief. “I’m not what you want, I’m only what you need, to hide behind. But I know everyone laughs at me when I’m not there, when you leave me behind—even to my face. Why do you want me to come back? I’m not a boy—I’d be anything you want, but I can’t be that. I wish I could change myself, if it would make you love me as much as I love you—”

“I don’t want you to change!” His hands tightened into fists with the need to hold her—knowing that to touch her would be the worst thing he could do.

“You don’t know what you want.” She turned away, crossing the room to the storage cabinets along the walls. She queried one, and took something out. She came back across the room, and held the thing out to him in her hand—a sheet with what looked like medicine patches on it. “Here,” she said, her voice strained. “Take this, and wear one patch every day for a week. You have a venereal disease.”

He felt his face redden. He took the sheet from her with numb fingers. “How do you know?” he whispered incredulously.

Her eyes turned cold and clear. “Because you gave it to me.”

He shut his eyes.

“If you ever really decide what you want, then we can talk about it again. Not until then.” Her mouth quivered, but he saw the utter conviction in her face, and knew that she would not change her mind.

He turned away, his throat choked with grief, and left the room.