The Summer Queen

TIAMAT: Carbuncle

Falling…

Moon opened her eyes, her cry of terror choking off as she found herself in her own world, her own room, her own bed. She sat up, pressing her chest, as her fall from an impossible height ceased in midair, ceased to exist.

She sagged forward, supporting her head in her hands, breathing deeply … piercingly glad to be awake, and alive, in the brief moment before she remembered who she was.

She shifted her body to the edge of the wide bed, pushed away the covers and dropped her feet over the side, driven to a kind of mindless urgency by the sudden, overwhelming return of memory. She froze there, staring, with one foot settled on the fur rug at her bedside.

Reede Kullervo sat in a chair across the room, watching her silently. She glanced away from him, searching the room for the presence of someone else.

He shook his head, with the ghost of a smile. “It’s only me, Lady. And I haven’t got the strength to get myself in trouble, or PalaThion would have tied me to the chair.” He shrugged, lifting his hands. “I wanted to be here when you woke up. So you’d know.”

Moon pressed her own hands against her body, through the cloth of her sleep gown. “How are you feeling?” she asked faintly. He was wearing a loose, handspun overshirt and shapeless pants; it surprised her how much like a Tiamatan he looked. He could have passed for an islander.

“I feel like shit,” he said, his smile turning rueful. “But that’s a hell of a lot better than I felt yesterday. Your vaccine stopped the deterioration in my cells. Now I’ve got to heal what’s left, without its help. I’ve got to heal a lot of things….” He looked down suddenly. “Some of it’ll never be right.” He looked up again, his gaze as clear and deep as the sky. “I don’t understand why … why you did this for me. Gods, even I thought I deserved to die! The sibyl mind—” He broke off.

“—has changed its mind,” Moon said gently. “And perhaps its perspective.”

Reede ran an unsteady hand through his hair. “And you? PalaThion said Vhanu wants me handed over to him.” She saw a haunted knowledge come into his eyes. “She said it’s up to you, whether I stay or go.”

“Your coming has released me from a geas, Vanamoinen,” she murmured. “That’s the last time I’ll ever call you that—” she added, as he looked up in protest. “You have given me a kind of freedom. And so I would like to give you what freedom I can, I suppose. You may stay here, under my protection, for as long as you want to.” She twined her fingers together in her lap, stared at them.

“Thank you,” he whispered. She did not look up. After a moment he asked, “Is it true, that you’re no longer a sibyl?”

She nodded, feeling oddly insubstantial as she admitted it, as if she had lost her moorings and was drifting with the tide.

“Can you forgive me?” he asked, barely audible.

“To be a sibyl was all I ever wanted from my life.” She raised her head. “But it’s a kind of freedom. …” And within her the memories were still alive, would always be, of what she had done, and seen, beyond the gates of time. She had been allowed that much, a gift of parting. ” Ariele is the one you’ll have to ask forgiveness of.”

He grimaced, and nodded. She pictured Ariele, adrift in space far above them in a stasis coffin, in a ship tethered to this world by an invisible cord of gravity; her life tethered by something far more fragile. “Reede, how soon can we get to Ariele, so that we can—heal her?”

He shook his head. “You can’t, Lady. Not now. Vhanu’s got my ship. If we’re lucky he won’t search it again, while he knows where I am. If he found out about her… .” He did not finish it.

Moon took a deep breath. “Goddess!” She heard her voice turn tremulous, fell her precarious control slipping. “When does this stop—?”

He looked up at her, and she realized that the man behind his eyes suddenly was seeing her with an unimaginable parallax view. “It never stops …”he murmured. “It isn’t meant to. That’s what we’re all about, you and I. We took the frayed ends of time and rejoined them, inside the sibyl mind. Its circle is complete again, because of us. Think of it, Lady! Think of what we’ve done together, what we’ve already accomplished. We’ve healed the net! I started a process, millennia ago; and thanks to you and … me …”he glanced down at himself, “it will continue as it was meant to. We’ve already performed a miracle. Two….” He touched his face. His eyes shone, willing her to remember, and believe. “The wheel is still turning,” he said softly. “Be patient. Have faith. We have to give it time.”

She nodded, and sighed, feeling belief struggle toward the light inside her as he held her gaze.

He looked away at last. “You contacted the inner circles of Survey, didn’t you, while you were in Transfer, in symbiosis with the matrix?”

She started. “Yes,” she said. “I—the net—threatened them with what would happen if the slaughter of mers goes on, and promised them access to the starmap, if they stop the Hunt. I think it will turn the tide; but I don’t know how long it will take—”

“Then we wait.” He shook his head. “That’s all we can do.”

She sat up straighter, her eyes going to the window behind him, its view of the sea hidden by drawn drapes. “The mers are in the waters around the city again; Vhanu was going after them. Did Jersuha call out ships—?* She pushed to her feet.

“No need,” Reede said. He rose from his chair and moved stiffly to pull aside the heavy, brocaded cloth. “They’re protected.”

Moon stopped where she was, staring without comprehension at the expanse of boundaryless gray that met her eyes. There was no ocean, no sky; only storm, merging one into the other, a rippling ferocity of wind and water pounding the unbreakable window surface with a rage that made it tremble.

“The sea lung …” Moon murmured, clutching a table for support. Reede looked back at her. “It’s what the Winters call a storm like this, when there is no difference between the sea and sky.” She had never experienced it, but she knew Winters who had. “The Summers say it’s the Sea Mother’s fury.”

Reede smiled strangely, and went on looking at her. After a moment he glanced back out the window at the storm. “I wonder …”he said.

“We heard reports that a storm was moving up the coast, for days,” she said. “A bad storm. But they said it would move out to sea and miss the city.”

“It’s come inland directly over Carbuncle, instead.”

She found herself for the first time in years, making the triad sign of the Mother with complete sincerity. She thought of Capella Goodventure suddenly— remembered her without pain for the first time. “Vhanu won’t be able to send out his hunters until it’s over. By then the mers will have gained some distance at least.”

He nodded, looking at the storm again. Her own eyes went to it as if she were hypnotized.

The door to the room opened suddenly, and one of the palace servants came in. “Lady!” she gasped, bobbing her head in apology. “The offworlders are in the palace! We couldn’t stop them—”

Blue-uniformed figures appeared in the space behind her, carrying weapons. Moon looked toward Reede, where he stood frozen beside the window, still holding back a sweep of curtain.

She looked down again, at the tray of food someone had left by her bedside. She picked it up, moved to Reede’s side without a backward glance of acknowledgment for the intruders who had forced their way into the room. She held the tray out to Reede, pressed it into his unresponsive hands. “That will be all. You may go,” she said, urging him with her eyes.

He came alive, taking the tray from her without too much awkwardness. “Yes, Lady …”he murmured, bowing his head. Carrying the tray, he went toward the door, moving lamely, his shoulders knotted with tension. The Police edged aside, letting him pass. The woman who had brought the warning crept out in his wake, followed by their baleful stares.

Their stares turned back to her. Curiosity and faint amusement crept into the men’s expressions at they saw her standing before them, disheveled, exhausted, in her nightgown. “Commander Vhanu wants you—” the sergeant in charge began.

She felt her sudden selfconsciousness turn to anger. “You will wait outside, and allow me to dress,” she said, lifting her hand. “Now.”

They hesitated, glancing at each other, suddenly uncertain. And then, lowering their guns, they went one by one back out the door, closing it behind them.

She took her time, having no eagerness for whatever came next. She dressed pragmatically, in trousers and a robe cut Kharemoughi-fashion, but made of cloth in the shades of green that always soothed her eyes. She reached for her trefoil where it lay on the bedside table; hesitated, and left it behind.

When she opened the door they were waiting, nearly a dozen of them. She ignored the raised weapons, and said in a voice like glass. “What do you want? If it’s Reede Kullervo, your Commander gave me his word that—”

“No, Lady,” the sergeant in charge said. “It’s you he wants brought to him.”

“Where is Jersuha PalaThion?” she asked sharply.

The sergeant looked down, up again. “Under arrest. For obstructing justice.”

“Justice,” Moon murmured. She held out her hands. “Does Commander Vhanu want me bound?”

The sergeant grimaced, and nodded. They were all looking at her again, at her throat. Even without her trefoil, her tattoo was still visible. One of the men stepped forward at the sergeant’s abrupt order. He drew her hands behind her, locking them into binders. She felt suddenly giddy; she had not believed they would actually do it.

They led her away through the halls, past the stunned, uncertain stares of the palace staff. She did not see Reede anywhere. She did not ask where they were taking her.

The sergeant and two of his men transported her in a hovercraft down through the city; she watched in surprise and half-fear as they passed by Police headquarters and kept going—through the Maze, down through the Lower City, without explanation. She remembered Arienrhod: her mother, her other self; remembered the final journey she had made down through the city to her death. Arienrhod had tried to change her world, defied the offworlders … and it had ended in a journey like this. There was only one imaginable destination they could be heading for now … and a storm was raging outside Carbuncle’s walls.

They stopped at last at the head of the ramp which led down to the docks, and she was urged out as the craft’s doors rose. She obeyed, moving awkwardly with her hands pinned behind her. The wind struck her and she staggered; one of the patrolman caught her, steadying her. The wind’s fist drove them back against the side of the hovercraft with another blow. The impact knocked the breath out of her; she heard him swear in surprise and pain. She was drenched to the skin, without even realizing how it had happened.

The others gathered around her; they pulled her forward together, moving into the wind’s teeth with arms linked, as if they were facing an angry mob. She could see nothing, blinded by pelting rain; but she heard the wind screaming, the thud and boom of storm-driven waves crashing over the docks far below her feet. She felt the city itself shudder with the blows. Her feet were suddenly in water up to her ankles as the sea swept up the ramp, flooding the pavement, and poured back down it again.

Vhanu was waiting for them, flanked by half a dozen more Police, in the security watchpost to one side of the ramp. The men around her crowded inside eagerly, dragging her with them out of the direct force of the wind. But even here the wind found them, drenching them with fresh volleys of rain and spray, whipping her hair loose, blowing it into her eyes maddeningly.

Vhanu pushed between his men until he stood face to face with her, and there was something in his eyes that made her want to shrink away.

She held her ground, even as he violated her space, pressing too close to her, intimidating her physically under the pretense of making himself heard. “What do you want?” she demanded, shouting over the wind’s screaming moan. “Why am I here?”

“This!” he shouted. He caught her painfully by the arm, turning her, pushing her between bodies toward the watchroom’s wide window. She caught a blurred glimpse of the causeway leading down, into what appeared to be nothing but the ocean. There were no moorings, no ships at all visible—only the sea, swirling with unidentifiable wreckage. As she watched, another wave broke against the city’s pylons; its crest barely cleared Carbuncle’s understructure, which was fifty feet above the normal high tide. She felt the city shudder again with the impact; saw water surging up the ramp into the city’s open throat, before windblown spray struck the window in front of her, obscuring her view. She felt cold water lap her ankles again and withdraw.

She turned away, into the fanatical fury of Vhanu’s gaze, shaken more by the sight of his face than by the power of the storm.

“I want you to stop it!” he shouted, gesturing at the storm’s elemental madness behind her.

She stared at him, feeling the attention of the guards around her suddenly riveted on the two of them. “What—?” she cried.

“Make it stop!” He pulled her back to the watchroom’s door; she felt the full force of the storm tease her, caress her, trying to coax her body out into the arms of its rage. She tried to turn back, but he held her there, letting the storm half-drown and abuse them both. “You heard me! Do it now!”

She twisted her head, trying to see his face clearly. “I can’t!”

“Don’t lie to me!” he said furiously. “You control the city’s power supply at will! You turned Gundhalinu into a traitor! They even say you’re the old queen reincarnated— And now you’ve turned the storm, to keep me away from the mers! You’ve ruined your own people’s livelihood. Damn you, the city will be in chaos when the tribunal arrives! They’re in orbit now, but they can’t even land. What are you, some kind of witch? How do you do it? Where does it come from?”

She shook her head, shaking back her sodden hair, and took a deep, sobbing breath as the wind sucked the air from her lungs. She would have laughed, her disbelief was so utter; except that she knew he meant every word. Oh, Lady, she thought, Lady, Lady … But there was no response inside her. “No one can stop the storm!” she cried. “It has to run its course!”

“Then you admit you caused it?”

“No!” she shouted.

He gripped her arms again, hard enough to bruise her. “Stop the storm, or I’ll order an orbital strike on the city!”

You can’t! She choked back the words that came to her lips, seeing something like panic in his face. “You can’t—” she said, and it was not a protest, but a threat.

His own angry response died in his throat. “What do you mean?” he shouted, his hands still bruising her arms. He shook her; the city shuddered beneath them, cold water climbed their legs and withdrew, leaving a trail of flotsam.

“Your weapons won’t function,” she said, holding his gaze with sudden ferocity. “Their aim will be off. If you try to fire on Carbuncle, you might miss. You might hit the starport complex instead, or one of your own ships, or—”

He swore. His hand came at her out of nowhere, striking her across the face, knocking her to the pavement in the wind and rain.

She struggled to get her feet under her and rise, without hands to help her; stunned with pain, battered down again by the storm. Behind her she heard unintelligible voices exchanging angry words. Two of the patrolmen were suddenly beside her, dragging her back again into the relative shelter of the watch station.

She gasped for breath, tasting blood in her mouth as she was supported between the two men. Two others held Vhanu away from her. The city trembled under another blow. An officer spoke urgently to Vhanu, in their own tongue; she could not hear what he said. But slowly the fury went out of Vhanu’s straining body. The two guards let him go and stood back. He glared at her, immolating her with his eyes as he tugged at the soaked, unyielding cloth of his uniform sleeves. “Take her away,” he said tonelessly. “Lock her up.”

The three patrolmen led her to the hovercraft, and it carried them back up the street to Police headquarters. They did not speak to her, but their treatment of her was cautious, almost apologetic. She leaned against the window at the corner of her seat, dazed and strengthless, avoiding their eyes. The streets were almost deserted. She wondered whether it was martial law or the terrifying presence of the storm rattling the transparent walls at the end of every alley that kept her people indoors. She wondered, wearily, what their reaction would have been to see her like this … could not carry the thought any further. She was invisible to the few people who did venture out, hidden behind the reflective windows of the Police craft.

They reached Blue Alley at last. She was led through the station house, past half a hundred uncomprehending stares, and into a cell somewhere deep in its heart. There were other cells around hers; she searched them, looking for Jerusha. But the other cells were all empty. The guards removed the binders from her aching wrists and left her alone, sealed in by a clear wall that gave off sparks when she touched it.

The cell was cold; she began to tremble, from reaction as much as from the clammy embrace of her wet clothing. She wiped blood from the corner of her mouth with her hand; stood staring at the sticky redness, uncertain what to do with it. There was a narrow cot along the wall, with a single blanket folded at its foot. She wrapped the blanket around her and lay down, stupefied by exhaustion, her thoughts as empty as the space around her. She closed her eyes, letting her mind and body escape into oblivion.

She woke from restless, nightmarish sleep, to push the blanket away; woke again after more fever dreams to cover herself, shivering with chills. Time passed in a measureless flow, and gradually her sleep became deeper, more peaceful, less troubled by dreams.

At last she woke again, and her mind was clear. She sat up, shaking off the covers, leaning back against the wall as her body’s sudden weakness took her by surprise. Her mouth was parched and dry, and she realized that her weakness was partly hunger and thirst. There was a plate of food on the floor just inside the barrier at the front of the cell. She wondered how long it had been waiting for her; she had nothing with her to tell her how much time had passed.

She got up from the cot, managed to retrieve the plate and a cup filled with some unfamiliar drink. She sat down with them again before dizziness overwhelmed her, and waited, motionless, while her heart hammered against the walls of her chest. And then she ate, slowly, savoring every bite of the plainly prepared native food; delaying for that much longer the need to think beyond the present moment.

By the time she had finished, her mind had begun to function again. Her clothes were completely dry; she pulled them into something like order. She drew back the tangled mass of her hair, braiding it again into a long neat plait. She noticed that there were two blankets on her bed now, where there had only been one before. Someone had been here, checking on her while she slept.

She got up again and went to the front of the cell, calling out. Only echoes answered. She suspected that she was being watched, remembering Vhanu’s pathological fear of her; but there seemed to be no other human being in the cell block. The isolation must be intentional. Vhanu would want even her exact location kept from anyone who might try to find her.

She touched the bruise on her cheek where he had struck her, and felt a coldness fill her that had nothing to do with the air. Why was she here? What did he intend to do with her? Would he have her deported, without anyone even knowing it, the way he had done to BZ? But if that was what he intended, surely he would have done it already—

She went back to the cot and sat down, controlling the sudden frustration and anger that overwhelmed her as she realized her helplessness. She thought of Ariele … tried not to, as pain blinded her. She wondered whether Jerusha was still held prisoner here, somewhere; whether Vhanu had had the palace searched, whether they had taken Reede away. Without Jerusha free, there was no one who would be able to change anything, stop anything, help her get free from here… . She rocked slowly back and forth, her fists clenched over buried folds of cloth on her robe.

She thought suddenly of the tribunal that Vhanu had said was coming to pass judgment on his version of the truth against her own. What was it he had said, in the flood of his accusations, there in the storm—? They’re here, but they can’t land.

Was he holding her to display to them as an enemy of the Hegemony, the cause of Gundhalinu’s downfall? Or would she simply be kept here, locked away—not even given a chance to speak, until they had come and gone again, leaving him in charge? What would happen to her if he tried to force the truth from her … ?She let the thoughts come, every futile, fearful vision; let her mind fill with possible scenarios. She fingered them like beads in a necklace, trying to find some solution to each of them, because thought was the only thing left over which she had any control.

At last she heard the echoes of voices and footsteps, and knew that whichever way her fate was falling, she would know the outcome very soon.

She stood up, pulling her rumpled clothing straight again, as the guards came to take her out of her cell—different men this time, not the ones who had seen their Commander strike a defenseless prisoner.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, keeping her voice even as they locked her hands behind her.

“To the starport,” one of the guards said.

“Why?” she asked.

“Commander’s orders,” he said. They led her back through the dreary corridors and out of the station without further explanation.

The sea lung had passed; she could see clear daylight through the storm walls at the alley’s end. She wondered bleakly how her people were coping with this disaster—how many had been caught outside the safety of the city’s walls, injured or lost in the wild waters. She remembered the sight of the moorage below the city, nothing left to see but the impossible storm surge of the water, and swirling wreckage. She imagined that people would be down there already, below the city and along the shore, searching through what the sea had left them, sorting out their lives. She wondered what they would make of her disappearance, in the middle of all this. People at the palace knew she had been taken by the Police; the constabulary must know that Jerusha was the Hegemony’s prisoner. Word would spread—

But the storm that had saved the mers and driven Vhanu to this act of vengeance might work to his advantage after all, as recovery diffused the energy of any protest the Tiamatans might make. She had no illusions, either, that Vhanu would not move swiftly to put someone in her place, probably a Winter. Kirard Set was gone to the Mother, but there were too many of his old acquaintances still in the city, waiting for their opportunity to regain Winter’s lost power. And there was no one left who had the authority or influence to protect Summer’s interests against them… .

They were in the transit tunnel already, on a shuttle threading rings of light like a needle through the darkness. She knew from experience that they would be inside the starport in a matter of minutes. And then … “Am I being deported?” she asked, suddenly unable to endure the pressure of the unknown any longer. “Am I going to disappear, like the Chief Justice? Where are you taking me? I am the Queen. I have a right to know. I want to know where you’re taking me!”

The squad of guards surrounding her in the otherwise empty car looked at each other. “The Commander said bring you to the starport, Lady. He didn’t say why.” The patrolman who had spoken to her before shrugged, and glanced away. No one else spoke; they avoided looking at her.

The shuttle reached its terminus, and they took her up through the starport’s interior, leading her finally to the reception hall in which she had once met the Prime Minister and the Hegemonic Assembly. The wide window-wall at the far side of the room showed her the glowing grids of the landing field, below and beyond it.

She entered the room, surprised; saw Vhanu turn to stare at her, across the expanse of deep blue carpet. He was surrounded by a small cluster of government officials, most of whom she recognized. He kept watching as she approached; his gaze lay somewhere between unease and satisfaction. The other faces around him watched her too, wearing a mixture of expressions.

Her instinctive reaction, as she saw them there, was relief. If Vhanu meant to deport her secretly, this was not how he would do it. But if that was not what he intended, then she suddenly had no idea what her presence here meant.

The guards halted her beside Vhanu, and he returned their salutes. Looking away from his eyes, she stiffened as she saw someone enter the hall from the other side.

Vhanu turned, seeing her stare. The others turned with him, as the new arrivals were escorted into the room: a dozen more Kharemoughis, of varying ages and both sexes, all of them with the aristocratic features and unconsciously arrogant manner of Technicians. Some wore uniforms, others wore the discreetly sophisticated, sexless clothing of highborn citizens. One, she saw, wore a trefoil. She knew without being told that this was the tribunal Vhanu had been waiting for.

They looked, in varying degrees, relieved and weary and glad to find themselves finally at the end of their journey. They all looked pleased, and somewhat curious, at the size of their welcoming committee.

Moon glanced again at Vhanu. She saw recognition and sudden pleasure fill his face. “Pematte-sadhu!” he exclaimed, starting forward to greet the leader of the group. The man he called out to smiled, and held up his hand. Vhanu touched it in a greeting between equals. They spoke together in rapid Sandhi; she heard them use the informal thou, and realized that they were friends, possibly even related somehow.

She waited, understanding her function here at last; feeling her hope gutter as Vhanu led the tribunal members forward. She had been brought here to be displayed as a scapegoat. But Vhanu had not dared to have her gagged; she could still speak for herself. She gathered her thoughts, watching them come.

“—I say, Vhanu, couldn’t we perhaps delay these matters for a bit? We’re all extremely fatigued,” Pernatte was protesting, his initial animation fading rapidly.

“Forgive me for pressing thee,” Vhanu said. “But a series of events have occurred since our last communication that have made it vital for us talk now, before we enter the city.” He looked toward Moon, his face hardening.

“Oh?” Pernatte said, with overtones of annoyance. He followed Vhanu’s glance until his eyes reached Moon’s face. “What’s this?” he asked, his frown deepening.

“This woman,” Vhanu gestured at her, “is the reason I must inconvenience thee.”

Pernatte stopped in front of her. “This pale, bedraggled creature? Is she Tiamatan? She hardly looks capable of inconveniencing anyone—”

“She speaks Sandhi,” Vhanu said.

“Oh.” Pernatte looked back at her.

“She’s the Summer Queen.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes,” Moon said stiffly. “And I do not need Commander Vhanu to speak for me.”

Pernatte frowned again, glancing at Vhanu. “And thou’ve brought her here as a prisoner? This is a drastic step. What in the name of a thousand ancestors is happening here?”

“That is what I need to explain to thee,” Vhanu said, grim-faced.

Pernatte nodded, finally. “I trust thou will be brief and to the point.” He did not look at Moon again, or acknowledge her presence further. The other members of the tribunal committee fanned out behind him, watching and listening in weary resignation.

“Yes, sadhu, I shall.” Vhanu drew himself up. The tension radiating from him, and from the officials grouped behind him, was almost a physical heat.

“This is the woman with whom Gundhalinu is accused of committing treason?” Pernatte asked, as if he still found it hard to believe.

Vhanu nodded. “She is more than she seems. I consider it imperative that she be removed from Tiamat as quickly as possible, and never allowed to return. She should be taken to Kharemough, where she can be intensively questioned and investigated. Not only did she cause Gundhalinu to forsake his background and commit miscegenation, she led him to pervert Hegemonic policy to suit her own superstitious, primitive beliefs—”

Moon stiffened, taking a step forward; the guards forced her back, as Pernatte said, “Yes, yes, all that was in the report. But she is the sovereign ruler of an independent government, and however repugnant we may find her actions to be, making her our hostage is hardly justified by—”

“That isn’t all,” Vhanu said, with a sharpness that made heads turn. “This woman controls—powers, some hidden energy source we don’t know about, that enables her to do things that should be impossible.”

Pernatte looked mildly incredulous. “Such as—?”

“She controls Carbuncle’s power supply at will. She controls storms. She has taken control of our own orbital weapons systems, so that I didn’t dare to use them—”

“What?” Pematte’s disbelief was plain now.

“The city is in … disarray,” Vhanu said, his voice catching. “I have not been able to obtain the quotas of the water of life that I promised to deliver, even though—and here again, she lied—the seas are teeming with mers. She seduced Gundhalinu to make him stop the mer hunts; and when I took control from him she turned her people against us. And when even that wasn’t enough, she shut down the city’s power, so that it was all we could do to maintain order. After I forced her to restore the power, she called up a storm at sea that destroyed virtually every vessel in the city’s harbor. When I threatened to turn our weapons on Carbuncle unless she stopped the storm, she said that they would not function, that we would strike our own starport instead—” He broke off, as Pematte’s expression, and the rising murmurs of the people behind him, began to register. “I know, this seems absurd to thee, I know it sounds impossible; but it happened!”

Pernatte took a deep breath, as if someone had been holding his head under water. “This is … quite unexpected, Vhanu-sadhu.” He glanced away from Vhanu, at the tense, tentative faces of the other officials behind him. “Do you all share this interpretation of events—?”

“We did not actually witness all the incidents that Commander Vhanu related to thee, uncle,” Tilhonne said cautiously. “But what we do know about the Queen proves unquestionably that she is to blame for our difficulties in obtaining the water of life, and that Gundhalinu was involved in a liaison with her that compromised his judgment as Chief Justice, especially regarding the mers.”

“I see.” Pernatte pursed his lips. He turned slowly, as if his body were resisting the motion, until he faced Moon again. Meeting her eyes directly this time, he asked, “And what is your response to these questions? Do you have one—?”

“—Lady,” she finished for him, in Sandhi, seeing that he did not have the faintest idea even of how to address her. “I have many responses, Citizen Pernatte,” she said; addressing him as foreigners on his homeworld were expected to do. “Where shall I begin?” She felt the blood rise into her face as her existence suddenly became real to the others who surrounded her. Her gaze glanced off Vhanu’s frozen hatred, back to Pernatte’s reluctant attention, as Pernatte said, “I have always been told that Carbuncle’s power supply was completely self-contained. Do you actually have a secret way of controlling it?”

“No,” she said.

“Then how do you explain a blackout that lasted for three full days?” Tilhonne demanded. “There is no record of such a thing ever happening before.”

“Once in every High Year, Carbuncle shuts down,” she said carefully, “because it has to renew its systems. That only happens during High Summer; the Hegemony has never been on Tiamat during High Summer before.”

“Then how do you know about it,” Pernatte said, “if it only happens once in two hundred and fifty years?”

“The traditions of my people tell of it, going back for centuries.”

“I saw you restore power to the city with my own eyes!” Vhanu said.

She did not take her eyes off Pernatte. “I knew that it was due to happen. It would have happened anyway. I pretended to do it myself. It was an act.”

“And there was a storm that struck the city?” Pernatte said.

She nodded. “But that was the will of the Sea Mother … an act of the gods, you would say.”

His frown came back. “And do you actually have some means of controlling our orbital weapons system?”

She smiled, as she looked toward Vhanu at last; it was not a smile she remembered ever touching her face before. “That was a lie.”

“What—?” Vhanu started forward, stopped himself. “No! She said—n

“Did you actually test the system, Vhanu?” Pernatte asked.

“No, I was afraid to. I—”

“You believed what you wanted to believe, Commander,” Moon said, letting the disgust she felt for him fill her words. “You wanted to believe that I was—what was it, a witch? That the only way that BZ Gundhalinu could have fallen in love with me was because I had somehow … magicked him into a sexual obsession. That the only reason he could possibly have for resisting the slaughter of the mere was that I had him in my thrall. That the only motive I could have for protecting them was superstition … that the only reason I could have for taking him into my bed was to use and control him. Nothing—” She broke off, taking a deep breath. She looked back at Pernatte. “Nothing,” she said softly, “could be further from the truth.”

Pernatte stared at her for a long moment, and she found no understanding in his eyes. But, to her surprise, she found belief. “So you are saying, then, that everything you did, and Gundhalinu did, was for the purpose of protecting the mers, which you claimed were an intelligent alien race, and not merely animals?”

“Yes,” she said.

He looked down, away, restlessly. “Frankly,” he said at last, “I have found the idea that the mers could be intelligent almost impossible to accept.”

Moon opened her mouth.

“But—” Pernatte held up his hand. “I have been forced to accept it … we all have.” He indicated the tribunal members around him.

She did not know whether the disbelief on Vhanu’s face or her own was more complete. “What are you saying?” Vhanu demanded. “That you accept what this foreign woman has told you, over my own testimony—?”

“No.” Pernatte looked at him with troubled eyes. “I am saying that we have been—made aware of certain relevant new data, new discoveries, by sources which are above question.” He emphasized the words carefully. “This has resulted in a change in Hegemonic policy. The Central Coordinating Committee has reversed its position on the status of the mers. It has declared them to be a separate intelligent race. They will no longer be hunted and killed; there will be no more water of life.” His eyes turned bleak as he spoke the final words.

“What?” Vhanu said. “That’s impossible! Father of all my grandfathers, I don’t believe this!”

Pematte’s dour expression deepened into disapproval. “I know this comes as a blow to thee, as it does to all of us. Thou may verify it, if thou wish—we have a sibyl here.” He gestured at the tribunal member who wore a trefoil.

Vhanu shook his head, taking a deep breath. “No. That will not be necessary. Thy word is sufficient, Pernattesadhu… . But if there is to be no more water of life, then what purpose is there even in maintaining contact with a world like this one?”

“Not much, perhaps,” Pernatte answered. “Although it has been pointed out that, given the scarcity of habitable worlds, no world on which humans survive successfully is beneath our attention. Even before Gundhalinu became Chief Justice, he documented in extensive reports that the cooperative long-term development of Tiamat’s natural resources is not a pointless—or necessarily unprofitable—project. And considering that we now have no alternative …” He turned back to Moon “In light of these new events, Lady, it appears that your defiance of Hegemonic law was justifiable. Some might even call it honorable.” He lifted his hand. “Release her,” he said to the guards.

They looked toward Vhanu, waiting for confirmation. Moon looked at him too, as betrayal distorted his face. “No!” he said. “By all the gods, this is not going to happen! This woman must be stripped of her influence and position. She must be investigated, taken back to Kharemough. She is in collusion with some group, or some power—”

Pernatte stepped forward and seized Vhanu’s spasmodically gesturing hand. “Vhanu …”he said, his voice low but impossible to ignore. “Thou have been under a great deal of strain, I know. Thou have been faced with many difficult decisions in recent months, and thou have tried to behave honorably. But thou must let this obsession go. The situation has changed here. This woman is not only a sibyl, but the leader of her people.”

“She has to be replaced!” Vhanu insisted.

“But not by thou—not by us,” Pernatte said, his jaw tightening. “Vhanu, to find that a man like Gundhalinu could willingly let himself become so infatuated with a—” he glanced at Moon, “with a foreign woman, is as incomprehensible and distasteful to my beliefs as it is to thine. And yet suddenly everything has changed, black has become white. What he did is no longer treasonable, but instead …”he shook his head, “preternaturally wise. How can we explain the changes a man goes through, who is a stranger far from home—?”

Vhanu froze, and suddenly all the resistance went out of him.

“I think it would be prudent for thou to return to Kharemough with me, Vhanu-sadhu,” Pernatte said, lowering his voice again. “Thou are in need of a rest and a chance to regain thy perspective. I’m sure there is a less taxing position somewhere, for which thou would be better suited.”

Vhanu gazed at Pernatte in stricken silence. And then, tightlipped, he turned toward Moon. He did not acknowledge her with his eyes as he gave the signal to release her.

Moon stepped forward, massaging her wrists. Pernatte bowed to her, a full obeisance. “Forgive me, Lady, for the hardships and humiliation my government’s unjust accusations have caused you to endure,” he said, with perfect poise and transparency. “Be assured we shall make whatever reparations are necessary to reestablish our previous relationship of trust and goodwill with your people.”

Moon took a breath, held it until her lungs ached; until she was able to say, with equal conviction, “I accept your apology, Citizen Pernatte … on the condition that the charges against Chief Justice Gundhalinu are dropped, and he is restored to his former position as the leader of the Hegemonic government on Tiamat.”

He nodded, without showing the least surprise, “Your request will be accomplished as swiftly as stardrive technology can make it possible, Lady. I’m sure it is a request that will meet with the complete approval of all parties.” Only the barely perceptible tic of an eyebrow betrayed any emotion.

“Thank you,” Moon said, and smiled with complete sincerity. “Perhaps you and your committee members would be my guests, then, at a dinner in your honor at the palace tomorrow … and we can discuss further policy changes in more pleasant surroundings.”

Pernatte smiled too, slowly and almost grudgingly. “It would be our pleasure,” he said. He turned back to Vhanu. “And now, Vhanu, if you would kindly show us to our proper quarters, we can all finally get some well-deserved rest.”

Vhanu nodded stiffly. His face was a mask of highborn propriety, and his eyes were completely empty as he turned his back on them and led the way out of the hall.