The Summer Queen (103 page)

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 luch negative attention. He stared at the Hegemonic Seal,
the Eight Worlds ymbolized 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.

Gundhaiinu looked away from him, tight-lipped, and back at
Wayaways again. The mers die or the Queen dies, Wayaways’ eyes said to him. You
choose. “All right ....” Gundhaiinu 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 Gundhaiinu,” Wayaways
said, and smiled.

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

“The Queen, sir.”

Moon moved past the uniformed aide as he stepped aside for
her. She glanced away self-consciously as he caught her staring a moment too
long at his face. The alienness of his offworlder features, of every person’s features
since she had entered the Government complex, only made her feel more strongly
that she had stepped outside the safety of her own world, and into the unknown.
She tried not to think of it as enemy ground, but the image formed anyway in
her unwilling thoughts. The aide glanced down, too quickly, from staring at her
own face a moment too long; she saw only curiosity in his gaze, nothing more.

She moved on into the office, taking in old familiar surroundings
made suddenly disconcerting by the overlay of things which were new and
unfamiliar. BZ Gundhaiinu, Chief Justice of Tiamat, sat waiting for her behind
the smooth, modular form of a desk/terminal—its electronic systems all fully
alive and functional, and still just as startling, to some perverse part of her
mind, as the strangers who were its new purveyors. She wondered how long it
would be before native and offworlder stopped seeming alien to one another ...
whether they ever would.

BZ’s eyes touched her face, alive with surprise and
pleasure. As she saw his expression her sense of uncertainty vanished, along
with all sense that she was looking at the face of a stranger. He smiled; she
felt the sudden, painful constriction of her heart, something she had grown so
used to that she kept all sign of it from showing in her response. She forced
herself to remember why she had come, that it had nothing to do with the sight
of him; and that he would understand that, all too soon.

He pushed up from his seat. “Lady,” he said, bowing his head
in acknowledgment, the formality of his speech belying what she had seen in his
eyes, as he found her standing before him alone. “This is an unexpected
pleasure. Welcome to my office.” His smile widened as he started around the
corner of his desk to greet her.

“You are welcome to my office, Justice Gundhalinu,” she
said, holding out her hand in a way that forced him to shake it, like a
Tiamatan. He took her hand; his grip was gentle and strong, keeping the contact
slightly longer than was necessary. She closed her fingers over the lingering
warmth in her palm as he let it go; lowered her hand to her side. He looked at
her quizzically, and her own smile turned wry. “This was my office, when the
Sibyl College met here ... as it did for all the years while you were gone.”
The College met in the palace now.