Joan Vinge - The Snow Queen

Moon went ahead, hearing Blodwed come through behind her; stood still in place as she took in the details of her new prison. The rock chamber was twenty or thirty feet in diameter, with a ceiling almost as high, and an incandescent heater sat in its center like a sun. Around the perimeter, locked in cages, tethered by rope or chain, were creatures of half a dozen unidentifiable species, furred, feathered, covered with scales or masses of naked wrinkles. She covered her nose and mouth with her hand as the smell of their squalid misery struck her full force. She saw them cringe, saw them snarl; saw the ones that lay sullenly apathetic with no response at all… saw the human being lying on a bare cot by the far wall, as far from the gate, as far from the rest, as possible.

“Damn her! Damn her!” Blodwed shouted suddenly. Moon jerked around, the menagerie hissed and yowled and clamored, as Blodwed turned and ran back up the passage. The gate banged shut behind her. Moon turned back, looking across the room toward the figure still lying unresponsive on the cot. She went forward slowly, limping as sensation began to burn in the soles of her feet again. The frightened animals cowered back from her.

She reached the stranger’s side without waking him, seeing as she approached that it was a man, an off worlder… a Blue. His heavy uniform coat was splattered with dark stains, and he wore the dingy white leggings and boots of the nomads. Looking down at his face she saw the finely-drawn features she had seen so often on aristocratic Kharemoughis; but this face was like cut crystal, the skin strained over the hollow bones. And still he did not wake. His breathing was labored, wrong. She put out a hand uncertainly, touched his face; pulled it back from the burn of fever.

She let her quivering legs go out from under her, sank down be side his cot on the cold floor. The animals had grown quiet, but she felt their frightened eyes still on her, and their misery overwhelming her, until her own cup of misery overflowed. She let her head fall against the cot’s edge, hard dry sobs shaking her apart. Help me, Lady, help me… everything I touch I destroy.

“What’s… wrong?” A feverish hand ruffled her hair; she jerked upright, swallowed her sobs. “Are you… for me crying?” The words were in Sandhi. The sick man struggled to lift his head; his eyes were red and crusted, she thought he barely saw her.

“Yes.” Her answer was scarcely louder than his question.

“No need—” A fit of coughing knocked the breath and the words out of him.

“Look at this! Look at it!” Moon stiffened back and around as Blodwed burst into the chamber again, dragging a larger girl after her. “Smell it! I told you to keep them right while I was gone!”

“I did—” The older girl cried out as Blodwed caught her by the braid and yanked.

“I ought to rub your face in it, Fossa. But I won’t, if you get this place clean before—”

“All right, all right!” The older girl backed toward the gate, wiping away pain-tears. “You snotty little wart.”

“Wait. What’s wrong with him?” Blodwed pointed past Moon at the off worlder

“He’s sick. He tried to get away when we let him out to take a piss; he ran right out into the blizzard, you know? He went in circles and we found him right outside.” She made the crazy sign, and shook her head, backing up the passageway.

Blodwed came on across the chamber, crouched down beside Moon, looking at the sick man’s face. “Ugh.” She clamped his jaw roughly in her hand as he tried to turn his head away. “What did you do that for?” His eyes closed.

“I don’t think he hears you.” Moon put a hand over his, squeezed his fingers lightly before she let go. “He needs a healer, Blodwed,” tentatively.

“Is he going to die?” Blodwed sat back on her knees, the truculence unexpectedly melting out of her voice. “There’s no healer here. Ma used to do it, but she’s not right in the head. She never taught anybody else. Can’t you help him?”

Moon glanced up at her. “Maybe I can…” She began to put her hair into braids. “Do you have any off worlder medical supplies?” Blodwed shook her head. “How about herbs, anything?”

“I can steal Ma’s. They’re old—” Blodwed stood up expectantly.

“Just get them.” Moon watched her go, confused by her willingness. She lifted the off worlder hand again, feeling for the pulse in his wrist; caught her breath as she saw the inside of his arm, crisscrossed with ragged scars. She stared in silent disbelief, lowered his arm again carefully, wrist down. She kept her hold on his hand as she sat waiting, and kept her mind empty.

“Here they are.” Blodwed came back through the gate at last, carrying a skin-wrapped bundle beaded with tiny bones and bits of metal. She opened it, spread it out on the floor between them. “Neutron activation,” she said, waving her hands. “Ma always says power words. Do you say power words, sibyl?” There was no taunt in it.

“I suppose so.” Moon picked over the leafy bundles of dried plants, sniffing at clear plastic bags of seeds and flower heads. Her hope faded. “I don’t know any of these.”

“Well, that one’s—”

She shook her head. “I mean, I don’t know how to use these.” KR j Aspundh had told her about the Old Empire’s exploration service, that before they opened new worlds for human colonists they had seeded them with a panacea of medicinal plants, different series for different ecosystems. “In the islands we used a lot of sea plants for curing.” And called them the Lady’s gifts. “I’ll have to ask — you’ll have to ask for me, input me; will you?” Blodwed nodded eagerly. “Ask me their uses,” Moon gestured. “Remember what I say — exactly, or it won’t do any good. Can you?”

“Sure.” Blodwed grinned arrogantly. “I can sing all the landmarks of the trail song. Nobody else can, any more. I can sing any song I ever heard on the radio even once.”

Moon managed half a smile, stopped by the stiff bruise on her cheek. “Then prove it. Ask, and I will answer. Input…”

Blodwed cleared her throat, sat up straighter. “Oh, sibyl! Tell me . uh, how to use these magic plants?”

Moon took up a bundle of herbs in her hand, felt herself begin to fall backwards down the well of absence… Clavally. She came into the light again, to find a face she knew, Clavally’s flushed and startled face, tousled hair, bare shoulders as close to her as… Danaquil Lu. She saw Clavally pull a blanket up to cover herself hastily. She thought, uselessly, Danaquil Lu, I’m sorry… Clavally, it’s only Moon… But she could not affect their lives even while she intruded on them so profoundly, to share her apologies or her happiness at even this reunion; to ask their help, or to communicate in any way at all.

But a tentative smile formed at the corners of Clavally’s wide mouth, as though she saw a message fill the window of Danaquil Lu’s eyes. She touched his cheek tenderly, still smiling, and with knowing patience lay back on the bed to wait…

“…No further analysis!” Moon slumped forward, drained, felt Blodwed’s quick hands catch her and keep her upright.

“You did it! You’re not a fake—” Blodwed propped her against the cot and took her hands away, suddenly leery. “Wake up! Are you awake? Where did you go?”

Moon nodded, let her forehead rest on her knees. “I… visited old friends.” She wrapped her arms around her shins, holding on to the memory: the only warmth, the only happiness she could remember.

“I know all the herbs now, sibyl.” Blodwed’s voice pawed at her. “I’ll show you. Are you going to cure him?”

“No.” Moon raised her unwilling head, opened her eyes. “I’m going to bring a real healer to use the herbs. But you’ll have to help me, give me whatever I need.” A nod. Moon readied herself, knowing that if she simply had the strength to begin, the Transfer would take her through to the end. Her body rebelled, refusing to gather for another ordeal, but she knew that if she surrendered to exhaustion now, it might be too late for the off worlder by the time she could start again. And she was not going to watch another person die because of her. She focused her attention on his face.