The Summer Queen (151 page)

“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, talcing 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—”

“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 biow 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, Pernatte-sadhu .... 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,
tight-lipped, 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.

“That’s it?” Piracy said, as Gundhalinu and Bluekiller
dropped their day’s take into the cache-pit.

Bluekiller shrugged, his brows furrowing. “Treason twisted
his ankle. Slowed us down.”

Gundhalinu reached into his coverall pocket and pulled out a
small wad of janka wrapped in a rag. He held it up. “Here,” he said. “Somebody
from Gang Four paid me for a question with this.” He took barter now for any
equipment he fixed and any questions he answered. He had not wanted to put a
price on answers he gave as a sibyl, but Piracy had insisted.