“But the real point—which PalaThion seems incapable of understanding—is not that we need to learn the way the Tiamatans live and speak and think. They need to learn our way of doing things. Until they do, they’ll go on being dashtanu in fancy clothing, unqualified to be citizens of the Hegemony, and undeserving of its full privileges. Look at that little yiskat”— slut—“we just saw. The Queen’s daughter, and she has the manners of a mekru. She ought to be publicly thrashed; that would make the point more effectively than—”
“Vhanu!” Gundhalinu bit down on his sudden anger, as Vhanu looked at him in surprise. “The real point, NR,” he murmured, not looking at his old friend now, “is that both sides need to understand the other’s point of view. Jerusha PalaThion not only knows that, she’s done it. That’s why I wanted her to work with you in training the force. If we want more cooperation and less catcalls from the locals, we have to do it too. You do see the point of it—?”
Vhanu nodded once, stiffly. “But by all my ancestors—” he said, his voice taking on an edge, “you heard what she told them tonight, after the meeting: She was sure everyone there could see now why all intelligent beings deserved equal respect and equal treatment… but just in case someone couldn’t, she wanted them to know that anybody who so much as called a native a Motherlover could pick up their pay and turn in their uniform. She can’t enforce that.”
“Why not?” Gundhalinu said. “Her new policy has the backing of my office—and, I hope, yours.”
Vhanu looked at him again, searchingly. He shrugged his shoulders. “Yes.”
Gundhalinu glanced away at the passing crowd. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, NR, it’s that enlightened self-interest is a more effective motivator toward good than mere understanding of the situation.”
“I suppose so,” Vhanu said, somewhat glumly. He glanced away again, as someone shouted drunkenly; a fishhead flung from somewhere down an alley struck the invisible field of his bodyshield, and dropped at his feet. “Perhaps she should be encouraged to try the same methods on the natives she knows so well.”
Gundhalinu stepped over the offal. “How difficult have you found your interactions with the local constabulary to be?”
“Surprisingly easy, all things considered,” Vhanu admitted. “They seem glad enough to have our help in dealing with the increased population in the city. They’re competent and efficient, but they know their limits.”
“PalaThion trained them,” Gundhalinu said. “Give her a chance to prove what she can do for us. The rules are different than they used to be, for us, for the natives. If they don’t understand that we exist as a buffer, to protect them from our own people, then the hostility won’t stop with catcalls and fishheads; it will keep on escalating.”
“You said that PalaThion was in charge here during the Snow Queen’s reign, as ‘Commander of the Police.” Vhanu gestured at the city around him. “Are you telling “me it’s worse with the Summer Queen running things?”
“Different,” Gundhalinu said, shaking his head. They stepped aside to avoid the sudden, almost silent approach of a passenger tram. “Most of the force were Newhaven-ese, hard-nosed and pig-headed. They never did understand. And the Snow Queen had her own reasons for giving us hell. She did it very well. She actively protected the underworld elements on-planet, because she knew the legitimate government was exploiting her people. We have a chance to prove to the new Queen that it isn’t like that anymore—that both sides have something to gain from the new relationship.”
“Frankly, BZ, what does Tiamat have of any real value to offer us, besides the water of life? I haven’t seen anything—”
“A good point, Commander Vhanu,” a Tiamatan voice said behind them.
Gundhalinu looked back, surprised that anyone, let alone a local, would intrude on their conversation so casually. He recognized Kirard Set Wayaways, from the City Council—remembered him from the old days, vaguely, as one of the Snow Queen’s Winter favorites. He recalled an impression of mocking superiority whenever Wayaways had looked at him, or at anyone who did not share Arienrhod’s favor. Wayaways had appeared to be barely older than his own twenty standards, at their first encounter; although the wardroom gossip had it that he was closer to sixty. But without the water of life, the years since the Departure had left their mark on Wayaways. Gundhalinu observed the signs of aging in the other man’s face with silent satisfaction.
“Are you walking, when you could be using our new public transportation?” Wayaways gestured at the tram, which was moving past them again.
“We haven’t far to go,” Gundhalinu said, glancing on down the Street. “After a long day of sitting in meetings and interfacing a dataport, I prefer to walk.”
“Good idea. They say exercise is one way to keep young,” Wayaways remarked, showing a trace of the sardonic smile that Gundhalinu still remembered with distaste.
“It’s the one I prefer.” Gundhalinu began to turn away, eager to put an end to the conversation.
“Is that why you suddenly chose to get off the tram and join us?” Vhanu asked Wayaways, with a sharp curiosity that was more professional than personal. For once Gundhalinu regretted his friend’s unshakable attention to duty.
“No, actually.” Wayaways took the question as an excuse to continue with them as they began to walk again; Gundhalinu frowned. “I was just curious to see two of the top officials of our new Hegemonic government walking in the Street like anyone else. I was pleasantly surprised to see that you weren’t in a hovercraft.”
“Then I hope we’ve satisfied your curiosity,” Gundhalinu said shortly. “Now if you’ll forgive us, Elder Wayaways, we were having a private conversation—”
“About the water of life.” Wayaways nodded. “Commander Vhanu was remarking that he didn’t feel our poorly endowed planet had much to offer the Hegemony, in return for all the benefits you bring to us—except for the water of life. I think that’s absolutely true. Which is why I felt compelled to behave so rudely, and intrude on your privacy.”
Vhanu glanced at Wayaways, his initial look of distrust fading. “Who did you say you were?”
“I didn’t, actually. I believe we’ve met before, but we’ve never really spoken. I’m Kirard Set Wayaways Winter. I’m one of the Queen’s advisors.” He held out his hand, palm up; Vhanu touched it briefly with his own palm. Wayaways looked back at Gundhalinu. “I was very surprised to hear that you had declared a moratorium on the hunting of mers, under the circumstances, Justice Gundhalinu. I’d think you’d be eager to start demonstrating to the Hegemony, as soon as possible, that its return to Tiamat is economically profitable as well as technologically feasible.”
Gundhalinu looked at him. “I don’t know why you find it surprising, Wayaways, since I’m doing it at the Queen’s request. A full study is being made on the question of whether the mers are actually an intelligent race, before the hunting begins again. As a member of the City Council, I’d think you would know that.”
Wayaways shrugged. “Certainly we all know about the Queen’s recent … obsession, for want of a better word, with the mers. Being a Summer, she is rather more conservative in her beliefs than her predecessor. But we don’t necessarily all agree about the wisdom of this move … just as I’m sure your people don’t all agree about it.” He raised his eyebrows.
Gundhalinu frowned slightly. He wondered how much Wayaways really knew—if he really knew anything—about the struggle with his own Judiciate members and chiefs of staff, including Vhanu, to win their support and gain even that grudging concession from the Central Committee. “There is also the matter of whether continuing unrestricted slaughter of the mers, sentient or not, will cause them to become extinct… and a study needs to be done concerning the feasibility of synthesizing the water of life…” He let his voice run on through all the arguments he had used to sway his own council, not sure why he felt compelled to justify himself, except that something in Wayaways’ tone put him instinctively on the defensive. He didn’t like the feeling, any more than he liked the man. “Do you have some personal interest in this matter?” He took the offensive again. “I seem to remember reviewing your applications. You were the first to request that your holdings be hunted—”