Joan Vinge - The Snow Queen

“I’d do both… if I were in any position to.” He followed her doggedly from language to language. But the righteousness drained out of him and left him limp on the cot. He laughed, a hoarse, hating sound. “But don’t worry. Flat on my face… with the cosmic crud, and living in a kennel… I’m not in any position.” He finished the liquid in the mug, let it hang empty from a finger over the cot’s edge.

Moon refilled the mug and put it into his hand again.

“A smuggling sibyl.” He sipped carefully, watching her. “I thought you were supposed to be serving humanity, not yourself. Or did you have that tattoo… put on purely for business reasons?”

Moon flushed with fresh anger. “That isn’t allowed!”

“Neither is smuggling. But it’s done.” He sneezed violently, spilling his drink on himself, on her.

“I’m not a smuggler.” She flinched, brushed droplets from her parka. “But not because I think it’s wrong. You’re the ones who are wrong, Gundhalinu, you Blues — letting your people come here and take what they want, and give us nothing in return.”

He smiled mirthlessly. “So you’ve swallowed that simplistic line bait and hook, have you? If you wanted… to see real greed and exploitation, try a world that didn’t have our police force to keep the peace. Or to keep… people like you from coming back to make trouble, once you’ve been off world

Moon settled back on her heels, saying nothing, holding the words prisoner. Gundhalinu matched her silence; she sat listening to the breath wheeze in his throat. “This is my world, I have the right to be here. I am a sibyl, Gundhalinu, and I’ll serve Tiamat any way I can.” Something harsher than pride filled her voice. “I can prove my claim any time you ask. Ask, and I will answer.”

“No need, sibyl.” A whisper of apology. “You already have. I ought to hate you, for curing me—” He rolled onto his stomach, looking down at her; she blinked at his expression, her hands closed over her own wrists. “But knowing I’m alive and not alone, seeing your face… hearing you speak a civilized language, my own language: Gods, I never thought I’d ever hear it again! I thank you—” his voice broke. “How long… how long were you on Kharemough?”

“Almost a month.” She put another piece of dried meat into her mouth, let the juices begin to dissolve, easing a throat closed by sudden empathy. “But — I might have stayed longer, maybe all my life. If things had been different.”

“Then you liked it there?” There was no sarcasm now, only a hunger. “Where were you? What did you see?”

“The Thieves’ Market, mostly. And the star port city.” She sat cross legged, pulling her feet into place, and let her mind see only the days that had feasted her eyes; see Elsevier and Silky and Cress alive and sharing her feast; the journey down to the planet surface, and KR Aspundh’s ornamental gardens… “And we drank lith and ate sugared fruits… Oh, and on the screen we saw Singalu raised to Tech.”

“What?” Gundhalinu sat against the wall, gasping with incredulous delight. She noticed that he was missing a tooth. “Ye gods, I don’t believe it! Old Singalu? You’re making that up, aren’t you?” Laughter was the best medicine.

She shook her head. “No, really! It was an accident. But even KR was glad.” And she remembered tears welling in Elsevier’s eyes, in her own… Tears rose again suddenly; tears of grief this time.

“Dropped in on KR Aspundh.” He shook his head, wiped his own eyes, still grinning. “Even my father didn’t just drop in on KR Aspundh! Well, go on, what next?”

Moon swallowed. “We… we talked. He asked me to stay a few days. He’s a sibyl, you know—” She broke off.

“And I know there are a lot… of things you’re not telling me,”

Gundhalinu said quietly. He shook his head. “No. I don’t want to know. I don’t even want to know why the hell KR Aspundh has tech runners to tea. But you could have had anything you wanted there — the life, all the things you couldn’t have here. Why? Why did you leave all that, and risk everything to come back here? I can see it in your eyes, you wish you hadn’t.”

“I thought I had to.” She felt her broken nails dig into her palms. “I never wanted to go off world in the first place. I was going to Carbuncle to find my cousin… But when I got to Shotover Bay I met Elsevier, and then the Blues tried to arrest us—”

“Shotover Bay?” A peculiarly chagrined expression settled over his face. “It’s a small universe. No wonder I keep thinking… I’ve seen your face somewhere.”

She leaned forward with a smile starting, studied his face in turn. “No — I guess I was too busy running.”

He twitched his mouth. “No one’s ever called it memorable. So you were going to Carbuncle. But after five years, you aren’t still going there? Whatever happened to your kinsman is ancient history, by now.”

“It’s not.” She shook her head. “While I was on Kharemough I asked, and the Transfer told me I had to return, that it wasn’t finished yet.” The cold silence of the void grew loud inside her, squeezed her breath away. “But ever since I’ve come, everyone I’ve cared about I’ve destroyed, or hurt…” She hunched over, pulled herself into a hiding place.

“You? I don’t — understand.”

“Because I came back!” She let the words come, making him see her for what she was, every act and every retribution that had brought her relentlessly to this place… “I made it happen! I made them do it, it was all for me. I’m a curse — none of it would have happened without me, none of it!”

“You wouldn’t have seen it happen; that’s all. Nobody rules anyone else’s fate — we don’t even control our own.” She felt his hand hesitantly on her shoulder. “We wouldn’t be prisoners here; I wouldn’t be alive now to say… you’re wrong to blame yourself, if we did. Would I?”

She raised her head. “But the mers, Lady, even the mers… they were safe on Ngenet’s land, until I came!”

“If Starbuck and the Hounds were poaching, it was no fault of yours. It was nobody’s doing but the Queen’s. I’d say you must be thrice blessed, not cursed, if all you got… out of an encounter with Starbuck was a sore throat.” He began to cough, pressing his own throat.

“Starbuck?” Slowly she uncoiled, stretching her legs, gathering the courage to ask: “Was he — the man in black? What is he?” Not asking, Who is he?

Gundhalinu raised his eyebrows, took his hand away from her softening shoulder. “You’ve never heard of Starbuck? He’s the Queen’s consort: her Hunter, her henchman, her chief advisor when she deals with us .”… her lover.”

“He saved my life.” She traced the scab of the healing wound across her neck, finding the strength to ask, “Who is he, Gundhalinu?”

“No one knows. His identity is kept secret.”

He loved you once, but he loves her now. The words of the Transfer reverberated. “Now I understand. I understand everything! . It’s true.” She looked away, and away; but the emerald eyes behind the black executioner’s mask followed her, followed’ What is?”

“My cousin is Starbuck,” whispered.

Gundhalinu said calmly, “He can’t be. Starbuck is an off worlder

“Sparks is one too. His father was one. He always wanted to be like them, like the Winters… And now he is.” A monster. How could he do this to me?

“You’re jumping to conclusions. Just because Starbuck was afraid . to kill a sibyl—”

“He knew I was a sibyl before he ever saw my sign!” She struck back at his insufferable conviction. “He knew me; I know he did. And he was wearing the medal that was Sparks’s.” And he was killing mers. She pressed her knotted fist against her mouth. “How could he? How could he change into that?”