The Summer Queen

TIAMAT: Carbuncle

Ariele Dawntreader stopped in the hallway, looking toward the hospital room door where uniformed offworlders stood guard; feeling herself pushed forward by anger, held back by doubt. At Police headquarters they had told her she would find Jerusha PalaThion here, with the Chief Justice, who had barely survived an assassination attempt. Some part of her mind tried to tell her that she wished Capella Goodventure had been successful. She found that the thought sickened her.

She pushed it out of her mind, feeling guilty, as if the guards standing watch down the hall from her could hear her thoughts. The Chief Justice was alive; then let him listen to what she had come to say to Jerusha PalaThion. She started to walk again, seeing the Police turn their heads like twins to watch her approach. Their wariness decreased slightly as they recognized her.

“I need to speak with Commander PalaThion,” she said.

One of the guards murmured something half-audible, as if he were talking to himself. He hesitated a moment, and nodded at her. “You can go in.”

She moved past them, trying to enter the room as though she were perfectly confident of what she would do next.

Jerusha stood waiting for her in the middle of the room, in the stranger’s gray-blue uniform that Ariele had finally come to accept as a normal part of the other woman’s appearance. Behind her, sitting up in the hospital bed, was the Chief Justice. It was the first time she could remember that she had not seen him in uniform.

She looked at him for a long moment, feeling as if she saw his face for the first time; seeing a human being, and not an arrogant Kharemoughi martinet. She thought of her brother suddenly, as she looked into his eyes; suddenly imagining the face of a much younger man, who was passionately in love with her mother, willing to give up his career, even his life, for her mother’s sake. She remembered the look he had given her once, meeting her in the Street, and how she had responded.

“Ariele,” Jerusha said, and there was something in her voice that was both surprise and wariness. “What is it?”

“I came to…” She broke off. “I came to wish the Chief Justice a swift recovery,” she said, glancing down.

“Thank you, Ariele Dawntreader,” Gundhalinu said. “Please tell your mother that I’m doing well—”

“My mother didn’t send me here, Justice,” she said sharply. “I haven’t even spoken to her in over a week. I moved out of the palace months ago.”

“In that case, thank you for coming at all.” He smiled, uncertainly.

“Actually,” she said, her hands rubbing the silken cloth of her shirtsleeves, “actually I came here because I wanted to talk to—Aunt Jerusha about something. But it has to do with you too, Justice. Your people. And … what happened to you.” She glanced up at him again, trying to read his reaction. “Do you blame the Summers for what happened?” she asked, baldly. “And … do you believe what Capella Goodventure said your hunters did?”

“No, I don’t blame your people,” he said, and she was surprised to find that she believed him. “And no. I don’t believe what she said.”

“Ariele,” Jerusha said, “she must have heard distorted rumors. There’s no evidence.”

Ariele closed her mouth over the angry response lying ready on her tongue. “Capella Goodventure was right about what happened with the Summer ships. I saw it.” She had spent two days waiting for a summons, for the Blues to come after her, as Reede had sworn they would. But it hadn’t happened, until finally she had been forced to come here herself like this. And now, suddenly, she knew why.

“You saw it?” Jerusha repeated. Her face changed. “How?”

Ariele looked down again, watching the memory replay across the polished surface of the floor. “I was there. I tracked Silky up the coast—”

“Silky?” Jerusha interrupted. “Is she all right?”

Ariele nodded, seeing relief in the other woman’s eyes; seeing the woman she had always known, the woman she had loved once like her own kin, suddenly looking back at her. She told that woman everything, calling up every detail; but editing every word in her mind before she spoke it, to keep from mentioning Reede.

“What was Silky doing, so far from the colony’s territory? Were any of the others with her?” Jerusha asked, half frowning.

Ariele nodded. “There were hundreds of mers on the beach. It was as if they’re all gathering for something.”

Jerusha shook her head, glancing at Gundhalinu. “What the hell could make them do that—after all the time Miroe and I spent trying to show them that they had to stay clear of humans. Was it all useless?”

“I think maybe they’re coming to a kind of Festival—”

Jerusha looked back at her, and for a moment she saw the other woman’s mind try to dismiss the idea. But then Jerusha’s face changed. She looked at Gundhalinu again. “What do you think, BZ? Would there be any record of something like this ever happening before?”

He shrugged, his eyes thoughtful. “If it only happens during Summer, probably not, unless it was preserved somewhere in their folk tradition.”

“Maybe it is…” Jerusha murmured. “Maybe that’s exactly what the Festival is.”

“Then they’re coming to Carbuncle,” Gundhalinu said, and his voice was as sure as if he suddenly knew, the way that Reede seemed to know things about the mers.

Jerusha looked at him oddly, but she did not question him either. “Ye gods, BZ—if that’s true, they’ll be sitting targets for the hunters.”

“If it’s true, then the hunts will stop,” he said, and his hand made a fist on the bedding. “I want observation data on the mers’ movements.”

Jerusha nodded, turning to Ariele. “And you saw the hunters attack the Summers who were trying to interfere?”

Ariele nodded again. “We saw them ram two ships—”

“We?” Jerusha asked.

“Silky and I. I was with Silky.” She glanced down, cursing herself silently, but Jerusha did not ask her about it.

“Did you see anyone go into the sea?”

She shook her head. “It was too far away. But they deliberately sank at least one.”

“Capella Goodventure believed someone died,” Gundhalinu said, frowning, but not at her. “Enough to want to kill me in revenge. Something stinks, Jerusha.”

“Smells like a cover-up to me,” she said.

He swore softly; his body jerked with agitation under the blankets. “Start an investigation. See what you can find out, if all the evidence isn’t sunk already.”

“Do you think Vhanu knows about this?” she asked.

He looked up abruptly. “No. Of course not.” He leaned forward, holding himself in place with his arms locked around his knees. “Ariele, you say there were hundreds of mers on the beach … but according to the report I was given, the hunt was relatively poor. How did the mers get away? Did you warn them off?”

She stiffened, uncertain; glanced at Jerusha, who nodded. She told them, carefully, the truth but not the whole truth. “They fired at me too—at my mother’s hovercraft. I had to get away before … before all the mers were off the beach.” Her face burned with remembered frustration and rage.

“And you’re sure that Silky was gone?” Jerusha repeated, coming across the room.

She nodded.

Jerusha rested warm hands on her shoulders. “Thank you, Ari. Silky doesn’t belong to me anymore—any more than you belong to your mother. But the gods help anybody that ever hurt either one of you.” Her hands tightened gently, in a fond gesture that they had not made for many years, and then released her.

Ariele smiled, hesitating, wanting suddenly to say more; to tell her everything. But she only turned away toward the door.

“Anele—” Gundhalinu called.

She turned back, reluctantly, compelled by the fragility of his voice, and not the sudden command.

“Who was there with you?” he asked quietly.

She half frowned. “I told you—” She broke off, seeing the expression on his face. Certainty. He knew she’d been lying to them, as surely as if he had been reading her emotions from some offworlder machine. She looked at Jerusha, and saw the same certainty in her eyes; knew that it was their experience that had betrayed her, and her own inexperience. “I don’t have to tell you,” she said. “I didn’t even have to come here. Your own people are afraid to tell you what I was doing there, because they know I saw what they did.”

“What’s this other person afraid of?” Gundhalinu asked.

“You,” she answered. “The Police. He’s an offworlder. If the Police know he saw, and tried to stop it, he’s afraid they’ll deport him.”

“What was he doing there?”

She tossed her head. “He was with me. He works for my mother, studying the mers.”

“Your mother doesn’t have any offworlders working for her, studying the mers,” Jerusha said.

Ariele felt her frown deepen. “Yes, she does. She has Reede, and he’s brilliant No one knows the mers like—”

Gundhalinu’s face froze. “Reede?” he said. “Reede Kullervo?”

She looked back at him. “Yes.”

“I know him,” Gundhalinu murmured. “He is brilliant. But he doesn’t work for your mother.”

Jerusha was staring at him. “That one?” she said softly.

He nodded. His eyes, still on Ariele, were suddenly dark with understanding “He isn’t what you think he is, Ariele…. But he can trust me. You tell him that He wants to save the mers. We can do it, together. I can protect him, I can help him, if he’ll trust me. Will you tell him that?”

She went on looking at him for a long moment, at the intentness and the desperate weariness in his face. She nodded, at last. “I’ll tell him,” she said.