Joan Vinge - The Summer Queen

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.

BIG BLUE: Syllagong, Men’s Camp #7

“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.

He heard grunts of interest from some of the men around him; aware of no warmth, but at least of acceptance, as he tossed the wad of janka to Piracy. Janka was a mild narcotic some of the men chewed, when they could get it.

“You take a cut?” Piracy asked.

He shook his head. “No, I … Yes.” He sat down cross-legged on the ground, suddenly too weary to go on standing. “Yes, I’ll take a cut.” Maybe it would help him sleep. The longer he was here, the worse he slept.

Piracy glanced up at him in brief curiosity, looked down again. “Okay—” he said. “You heard Treason. Anybody else wants a chew, ante up.”

Half a dozen scabbed, filthy hands tossed offerings from their scant rations onto the ground in front of Piracy. He split up the wad of janka scrupulously with his knife, passing it around. Solemnly he pushed the final piece, and the small pile of rations, toward Gundhalinu.

Gundhalinu gathered them in, his battered hands indistinguishable from anyone else’s. He began to eat without ceremony, not caring what it was that filled his stomach, barely even tasting it. The sun’s burning face pushed up over the horizon, making him squint. The other men who weren’t already sitting sat down now, taking out their own food, as Piracy resealed the lock box, kicking ash and cinders over it.

They ate in near silence, as they did at the end of every workshift; having little left to say, and no energy to say it. But they ate together, still hungry for human contact, although none of them would admit it. This had come to be the most important moment of his own day, the one thing that he looked forward to: sitting on the ground in the cold wind among these men who made his barely tolerated existence possible.

Sometimes Piracy even held up the other end of a conversation with him. Piracy’s mind possessed an odd, eclectic accumulation of knowledge, most of it self-taught. They had talked for hours while Gundhalinu recovered from his beating, sharing the other man’s hut. But even Piracy did not risk talking to him often now, and sent him out with Bluekiller, not as his own partner; afraid that getting too friendly with an ex-Blue would undermine his position with the others.

The ground trembled; Gundhalinu swallowed convulsively, and coughed.

“We got almost a full cache, Piracy,” someone said, after a time. “We could make a trek to the post soon.”

Piracy glanced up over the mouth of his canteen. He grinned, setting it down. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess that’s true. Maybe it’s time we choose who gets to go.” A charged field seemed to build around him as he groped in a pocket, drew out the cracked, ancient gaming piece he guarded as if it were a jewel. “Three closest guesses take it, as usual. Whoever went last two times is out of the game.”