The Summer Queen

TIAMAT: Carbuncle

“Damn it, boss, you’re late—”

Reede jerked to a stop at the entrance to Starhiker’s as he was unexpectedly accosted by Niburu. “So what?” he said. He had almost not come at all, knowing that Ariele Dawntreader would be here, waiting for him, with that look in her eyes. He had come anyway, finally, telling himself that it was only to break off this lie of a relationship. He had to make sure that she stayed away from him from now on—absolutely sure. It had gotten them noticed, gotten him in trouble, made him vulnerable… and her. He couldn’t afford that, couldn’t afford to let anybody get close to him ever, while he wore the Source’s brand.

He told himself again that she was only a habit he had gotten into. Just because she loved the mers, and talked of growing up with the sea as if it were the most natural, beautiful thing in the world … just because she belonged to this world, and this strange city, that seemed to touch some part of his shattered soul with exquisite, inexplicable déjà vu… that was no reason to think he felt anything real about her. Just because when he talked of those things with her he knew peace, and a sense of his own humanity; just because she looked at him with longing, as if he were really a man, whole and sane… . Habits were made to be broken.

None of it meant shit, he told himself fiercely. It couldn’t; it was suicide, murder. She had saved his life. Now he would save hers, by never seeing her again.

“Ariele—” Niburu said.

“What about her?” Reede demanded. He caught Niburu by the shoulder, making the shorter man wince.

“She just left—” Niburu gestured down the Street.

Reede let him go, glancing away into the crowds. He thought he caught a glimpse of silver-white, wasn’t sure. “So what?” he repeated, oddly relieved that fate had granted him a delay. He started to push past Niburu, heading into the club.

“Reede!” Niburu shouted, in sudden exasperation. “Listen to me, you bastard!”

Reede turned back, mildly incredulous.

“I think maybe she’s in trouble.”

Reede came back to him. “What do you mean?”

“She was waiting for you like usual, and that kid Elco Teel started hassling her, trying to get her to go to some party with him, and she wouldn’t. And then all of a sudden she changed. It was night and day, suddenly she was all over him, and then they went out together.”

Reede frowned. “So she went to a party.” He gave a grunt of disgust. “You expect me to give a damn?”

Niburu caught his sleeve, holding him when he would have turned away again. “I said she changed. It wasn’t like she changed her mind, it was like something happened to her. Tor saw it too, she says Elco Teel slipped Ariele something.”

Tor—the woman who ran the club. He remembered that Niburu was having an affair with her. “She was practically eating him, right there in public, boss. It didn’t look right to me either. Tor said if you care anything about her, you ought to check it out.”

Reede swore, searching the crowd again, not seeing anyone now who might have been Ariele. “Which way did they go?”

“I sent Ananke to follow her. You can track him by remote.”

Reede looked down at him, with abrupt surprise. “Good.” He nodded. He touched Niburu’s shoulder briefly, as he switched on the tracer and found Ananke’s signal.

“You want me to go with you, boss?”

He shook his head. “No,” he said.

“I can keep up. If there’s trouble—”

“If there’s trouble it’s not your legs that get in my way. It’s your fucking conscience.” Reede turned on his heel and started off into the crowd.

The trail led him down the Street’s languid spiral; not up it like he’d expected, toward the townhouses that belonged to the rich Winters and offworlders. Instead Ananke, and the ones he was following, were headed into rougher territory, the interface of the lower Maze and the Lower City, where most of the Summers lived, closer to the sea—where warehouse districts and processing plants took up entire alleys, and things were likely to happen that nobody wanted to talk about the next day.

He pushed himself, moving faster as he realized where they were headed, as the crowds thinned out around him. At last he reached the entrance to an alley that looked entirely deserted. He hesitated and then started down it, as the tracer told him, in an insistent monotone, that it was not as deserted as it looked.

He moved deeper down the empty throat of silence, reaching into his heavy jacket. He drew his stunner and checked the charge as he walked like a hunting cat along the looming, ancient building fronts. At last he heard something, a faint echo of voices; he slowed, entering the claustrophobic accessway between warehouses. “Ananke!” he whispered, as his eyes made out a familiar form waiting in the shadows.

Ananke jerked around and Reede saw light flash on metal; saw his face go from grim fear to stupefied relief inside of a heartbeat. “Boss—” he murmured, sagging against the wall. The dagger he always wore at his belt, that Reede had never seen him draw, was in his hand. “I was going in—”

Reede could hear other voices clearly now. He gestured Ananke aside, climbed up onto the pile of boxes so that he could see in through the spot rubbed clear on the heavy, grime-coated glass of a small, high window. There was a party going on inside; and he knew without looking closer what kind of party it was. He watched a moment longer anyway, tensely searching for a familiar face, a shock of milk-white hair…. There.

He leaped down, facing Ananke again. “That’s all you’ve got?” he said, nodding at the dagger.

Ananke grimaced. “Sorry, boss, I—”

“Shut up. Take this.” Reede pulled his own knife, and handed it over. “Don’t kill anybody, for gods’ sakes—at least not by accident. Is the door locked?”

“I don’t know.”

Reede grunted, pushing past him. The door was locked. He input an override sequence and shoved it open, ignoring its programmed alarm. They ran down a short corridor; met someone coming to check out the bleating door as they reached the end. Reede hit him in the face with the stunner’s weighted butt, and he went down without a protest.

Reede stepped over him and entered the space beyond, with Ananke following. The perimeter of the warehouse was crowded with piled crates and equipment; the bleak, open space at its center had been covered with cargo mats. There was a crate topped with a variety of cheap drugs, and a crowd of maybe a dozen people, most of them offworlders, most of them men, tough-looking, laborers and brands, probably. Elco Teel stood at one side, with three other young Winters from his crowd, two girls and a boy. Reede watched them watching, pointing, tittering; his own eyes leaped to the object of their attention.

Ariele Dawntreader stood in the center of the room, on the waiting mats, surrounded by a restless cluster of men. The one strap of her long, rainbow-shaded tunic was off her shoulder, the tunic halfway down to her waist. The total stranger she was kissing, deeply and thoroughly, was fondling her breasts, as someone else moved in on her from behind, pulling the tunic farther down her half-naked body. Whistles and catcalls echoed from the hard, pitiless surfaces of the room.

Ananke swore, starting forward. Reede pushed him back again, out of the way; raised the stunner and took aim. He fired. The offworlder in the process of dropping his pants behind Ariele clutched his groin with a yelp of disbelief. He collapsed on the floor, in a sudden puddle of his own urine, as he lost control of his body functions.

“Ariele!”

Heads turned all around the room, away from the spectacle in front of them, toward him. The offworlder who was fondling Ariele let her go, pushing her away roughly as she tried to cling to him. She stumbled free, turned unsteadily to stare at Reede along with everyone else. Her eyes were glassy and uncomprehending. She looked down at herself, up at his face, away again, with a peculiar quirk of her head.

Reede came on into the room, brandishing the gun. No one moved, all of them caught somewhere between chagrin and disbelief. “Ananke,” he said, and pointed toward Elco Teel, “cover the little perverts, over there. Don’t let them go anywhere.” He watched Ananke move forward, holding the two knives in plain sight, to stand guard in front of them. “Now,” he said, to the mob of sullen, silent men who still surrounded Ariele.

One of them took a step toward him. He raised the gun and the man backed up again. But he read the speculation in their eyes as they began to realize how outnumbered he was. Ananke looked his way, uneasy.

“I’m calling the Blues,” Reede said, certain that he had everyone’s attention, “and reporting this gang bang. Maybe you cocksuckers want to hang around and see how much fun you can have with the Queen’s daughter before they get here… or maybe you want to see how far away you can get instead.” He touched his remote with his free hand, putting in a callcode.

The offworlders began to move, one by one—toward the door this time. He kept the gun trained on them as they passed, their steps quickening as panic began to set in. They were out of the building inside of half a minute, dragging along the piss-stinking one he’d crippled. The door slammed shut behind them. He was sure they wouldn’t be back.

He moved slowly across the room to the spot where Ariele stood, her face still dazed and unfathomable as she tried to pull her clothing back into place. She stopped trying as she saw him come toward her, and held out her arms. “Reede …” she whispered

Reede stuck the stunner through his belt and pushed her hands aside. He caught the strap of her tunic, keeping his eyes on her face as he pulled the soft, shining cloth up over her breasts, sliding the strap back onto her shoulder with gentle, noncommittal motions. She put her arms around him, pulling him against her. “Stop it,” he said, and shook her off. “Stay there.” He started back across the room to the place where Elco Teel stood; realizing, annoyed, that Arieie was following him. Reede studied Elco Teel’s pouting, frightened face, his pouting, frightened companions.

“Did you really call the Blues?” Ananke murmured, staring at him.

Reede laughed. “No,” he said; saw Ananke relax, and the young Winters start to relax with him. His own body stiffened as Ariele came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him again, sliding her fingers into the seal of his shirt. He pulled her hand free irritably. One of the Winter girls gave a high, nervous giggle, watching Ariele’s hands crawl over his body as if they had a life of their own.

“You think it’s funny?” Ananke said, suddenly. Reede looked at him, surprised by the hard bitterness of his voice. “You really think laughing at her makes you safe? Makes you one of them—?” He jerked his head at Elco Teel and the other boy. “The next time it might be your turn, sister—”

The girl glared at him, sidling closer to Elco Teel, taking hold of his arm.

Reede stepped forward, catching the expensive, diaphanous shimmercloth of her tunic at its collar. He ripped it open to her waist with a sudden, brutal motion. “And next time they might not bother to put you in the mood, first, sweeting—”

The girl cried out, shrinking away from his touch as she pulled her torn clothes together. Elco Teel’s face tightened, but he made no move to stop it, to help her. The other Winters gaped, wide-eyed.

Reede turned his back on them, pushing Ariele away, maddeningly aware that he was starting to get an erection. He swung back to face Elco Teel; held his hand out to Ananke. Ananke passed him his blade silently, uneasily. Reede raised the knife until its tip was touching Elco Teel’s throat. “I didn’t call the Blues, because they might object to what I have in mind for you, little man,” Reede said softly.

Elco Teel went white, his whole body seeming to shrivel back from the knife’s point.

“This was no accident, was it, Elco Teel?” Reede murmured, tracing an infinity sign along the quivering length of Elco Teel’s neck. Even Ariele was silent and still now, waiting and listening; no longer touching him, although a part of him was still aware only of her, the feel of her, the smell of her— He wrenched his attention back. “Your old man put you up to this, and the Source put him up to it, am I right?”

“I don’t know,” Elco gibbered. “Yes—maybe— Da gave me the drug! He said I could get back at her, at you, because you took her away from me—”

Reede’s hand jerked downward in a sudden, slashing movement, and Elco Teel screamed in pain.

Reede stepped back, inspecting his work. Elco Teel swayed on his feet, making a mewling whine as he stared down at the hanging ruins of his expensive clothes; at the thin, precise line of the wound running from his throat to his navel, the spreading ribbon of red oozing out of it as he watched.

Reede caught Elco’s chin, lifting his head ungently. “Now listen to me, you little turd. You tell your father … you tell him it didn’t work. And tell him he’s out of his depth. You tell him it’s a closed game, between me and the Source. That this is just a warning. That next time they’ll have to put the pieces of your body back together like a puzzle just to bury you… . And that’s nothing, compared to what I’ll do to him. Do you think you can remember all that?”

“Y-yes,” Elco Teel whimpered. Tears leaked out of his eyes.

“Then go tell him.” Reede wiped his blade on the rags of Elco Teel’s shirt and stepped aside, opening a space for Elco Teel and the others to escape. They fled, Elco Teel leading the way.

Reede watched them go, listened for the heavy reverberation of the slamming door. He put his knife away.

Ananke did the same, echoing his motions. Reede saw the look on his face then, half stunned admiration and half concern. “What’s going to happen now?” Ananke said finally.

“What do you mean?”

“The Source—”

Reede grimaced, realizing with an odd annoyance that the concern in Ananke’s eyes had as much to do with him as it did with Ananke’s own safety. He shook his head, and shrugged, all the response he could bring himself to make.

Soft hands touched him again, unexpectedly, and he started. Ariele was back beside him, caressing him, her lips brushing his cheek. Her touch was more tentative this time, but still it made his body sing like a plucked wire. “Stop it,” he murmured; but this time it was harder to push her away, as if something was slowing his motions, weighing down his resolve like gravity.

Ananke stood watching them, with uncertainty coming back into his face.

“Go back to the club and find Niburu,” Reede said. “Tell him everything’s all right.”

Ananke glanced at Ariele. “What about—?”

“She’ll be all right.”

“Maybe I should stay, and help you get her home… .”

“I’ll take care of it,” he snapped, when Ananke still hesitated. “Get out.”

Ananke nodded, with obvious reluctance. His eyes stayed on Ariele, on her hands, her mouth, and the things they were trying to do to Reede’s body, as he started for the door.

Reede jerked free of her again as Ananke went out; taking hold of her arms when she reached for him. His skin seemed to burn where she had touched it. Elco Teel must have slipped her a dose of possession. He knew that it breathed through the skin, making someone who was under its influence contagious, infecting whoever touched them with the same helpless arousal. The throbbing ache in his loins spread through his entire body, making him sweat, making him burn. He told himself that it was impossible, drugs didn’t affect him at all— “Ariele,” he said fiercely, shaking her. “You don’t want this. Stop it!”

She struggled against his hold, her eyes filling with tears… her eyes that were like agate, like fog, like no eyes he had ever seen. “I didn’t want them—I wanted you. I want you.” Suddenly she was soft and yielding in his grip, candlewax touched by flame, clinging to him everywhere, warm and fragrant. Murmuring, “Please, oh please … Reede please … only you. Only you. …” She pressed her lips to his half-bared chest, devouring him with kisses. His own arms were suddenly strengthless as he heard her speak his name, as he saw recognition in her eyes.

“No,” he said, as her arms slid around him. “No, Ariele—” His hands rose to push her away; but now his hands seemed to have gained a life of their own, fusing to her flesh, refusing to stop touching her. Helplessly he felt the silk and velvet of her skin, the pressure of her body against his, making his nerves sing as though some live circuit had closed between them when they touched … and he knew that the impossible had happened. His mouth found hers, in a long, deep kiss. He knew that he was lost….

She sank down along his body, pulling open his clothes, kissing him everywhere; drawing him down with her onto the cargo mats as the cold, barren space around them dissolved into waves of heat.

Ariele woke out of a dream of a dream, feeling the heaviness of arousal still congesting her languid body, making every motion deliciously sensual. She ran her hands down over herself, finding that she was naked beneath bedcovers; not what she had expected to find. She opened her eyes and discovered the ceiling of a room she had never seen before, but no memory at all of how she had gotten to this place. She felt a sudden coldness drop through her as she saw herself in her mind’s eye, saw a cold, echoing space in which she was surrounded by strangers, offworlders with hard hands and soulless eyes, letting them… letting them….

But the images metamorphosed like cloudforms, and it was no stranger, but Reede Kullervo holding her, caressing her, peeling away her clothing as his kisses dissolved her mind into seafoam… . His hands on her, melting her very flesh from her bones as they opened and explored her. She remembered the burning sword of his manhood tracing a fiery track across her skin, its white heat driven deep into her loins, searing the soft folds below with its exquisite passage as he sought, and found, and took possession of the secret core of her being; as he buried himself souldeep in her annealing, fluid depths… .

She remembered a slow, deep rhythm that went on and on, filling her, fulfilling her, m a way that she had never known before, until she screamed like a sea bird with the length, the depth, the purity of sensation as her pleasure crested and fell away into blissful release … only to be carried upward to crest again, by the rhythm that went on and on, driving her into delirium dreams….

She turned her head on the pillow, as the cascading memories dissolved into the brightness of day. Turning away from the light that filled her eyes, she searched the space beside her for a form, a face; suddenly afraid that she would not find him, not find anyone—

But he was there, to her relief and joy, lying beside her, sound asleep. She studied his face, turned toward her; fascinated by the sight of him at rest, at peace. He never looked that way, so peaceful, so vulnerable, when he was awake; he was always like a fist full of thorns, filled with potential pain. It was what had drawn her to him, the hint of danger, the wildness in his eyes. But it was the man sleeping next to her now who had held her: the haunted, haunting stranger she caught glimpses of as they talked together about the mers. She was sure it was that man who had kept coming back to her, even while something inside him fought against it, keeping her at bay, keeping him unreachable and untouchable.

She reached out, touching his cheek, so softly that she barely proved his reality. She let her hand trace the line of his jaw, down along his throat, his shoulder. She had never been allowed to touch him, before; he had never let her. She studied the tattooing that tendriled the length of his arm, fascinated by the complexity of the designs. Someone had told her once that they meant he was some kind of criminal; the prospect had secretly excited her.

But he had denied it, when she had found the nerve to ask him about them. And now, looking at the beauty of the many-colored symmetries, patterns resolving into other patterns even as she looked at them, by the magic of their design, she did not believe it either. They made her think of secrets, transformations, messages with hidden meanings. They reminded her of the mersong… of the mystery of human existence, in all its richness and variety … things that she could contemplate forever, like these exotic patterns, and the mysteries of the man who wore them….

Reede’s hand came alive suddenly, under her touch; caught her own hand in a painful grip. He sat up, staring at her, while the emotions on his face changed and changed again, so quickly that she could only see his anger. Her smile died stillborn, and she shrank back from what she found in his eyes.

But he looked away from her again; sank back, to lie motionless in the bedding, with his hands covering his face. “No,” he whispered. “No….”

Ariele pushed herself up; dared to touch him again. He did not shake her off, and so she moved closer, to rest her head on his shoulder. He flinched, but still he did nothing to prevent her from being there.

“Oh, Reede,” she murmured, against his neck. “I love you so much. You’ve changed everything for me.”

He said something in a language she didn’t know, that sounded like a curse. “You don’t know anything about love, or about being changed … damn you, “he said bitterly. But his arms went around her, pulling her to him, cradling her against him as if he were afraid she might disappear. He stroked her hair. “What am I going to do?” he said, to the ceiling, or the air.

“Are you worried about my mother?” she asked.

He looked at her blankly. “What?”

“She won’t be angry with you… . She might even be happy with me, for once.”

Something like comprehension filled his eyes; but he only grimaced. “Don’t tell your mother. For gods’ sakes, don’t tell anyone!”

“But why not? Everyone already thinks—”

He sat up, glaring at her in furious desperation. “You don’t even know the truth—”

She stared at him. “Then tell me.”

“It’s too late,” he said, shaking his head. He lay down again beside her. “Too late…” He looked away from her eyes, down along her body. His hand reached out, uncertainly, to touch her breast, making her shiver and stretch with languorous desire. He rolled over, beginning to kiss her, beginning to make love to her again, with an urgency that took her breath away… and then sensation was all she knew.