TIAMAT: Carbuncle
“…as you can see on your displays, the record clearly supports Citizen Wayaways. The data shows both a desire among the people and an historical precedent for replacing the Summer Queen with one chosen by the Winters on our return. This is usually done during what they call the Festival, when they celebrate the Prime Minister’s visit.…”
Echarthe’s data flashed on the screen in front of Gundhalinu where he sat, surreptitiously folding a scrap of food wrapper into smaller and smaller triangles. He looked up, his hands hidden below the edge of the torus table that dominated the council chamber. His eyes touched briefly on the members of the Judiciate and his government staff seated around him; he pictured the Summer Queen’s Sibyl College and the Tiamatan civic leaders who had once occupied those same seats. Only one figure was unchanged from that image to this one… Kirard Set Wayaways.
He found Wayaways looking back at him, as if the Tiamatan had had him under observation all the while. Wayaways smiled faintly, knowingly; that smile which he had come to detest more than any expression he had ever seen on a human face, because it had the ability to blind him like a beam of light with his own irrational, gut-knotting rage.… He forced himself to meet Wayaways’ stare unflinchingly, closing the fist of his concentration around his anger, suffocating it with self discipline.
Wayaways had insinuated himself into the awareness of everyone in this room, become a constant presence in their halls. He was the official representative for the City Council, lobbying for the return of the mer hunts—working against the Queen whose most loyal supporter he had once been, according to rumor.
He had come to Gundhalinu’s office a few weeks past, oozing charm and secret knowledge, hinting with barely concealed malice that if the Judiciate did not grant permission for the mer hunts to begin again, he would provide the Council with certain information about the real nature of the relationship between the Hegemonic Chief Justice and the Summer Queen.
Gundhalinu had listened in silence, and then played back to Wayaways the record of everything he had said, which Gundhalinu had discreetly edited even as he spoke, eliminating all the potentially incriminating details, leaving only a damning litany of attempted bribery and coercion. “I know you have friends,” he had said softly. “I have friends too. Leave now, while you’re still free to do it.”
Wayaways had taken him at his word; there had been no more direct attacks. Instead, Wayaways had simply gone around him, gotten to the other members of the Council behind his back. He no longer pressured them directly to reinstate the mer hunts, because Gundhalinu had overridden the Council’s vote and ruled that it was traditionally a matter of Tiamatan law, and under the Summer Queen’s control. And so Wayaways had followed him doggedly down that path of argument, and turned Tiamatan law back on him, in one swift, vicious thrust.
“I question the claim that a majority of Tiamatans are dissatisfied with the Queen and want her replaced,” Gundhalinu said. “This data is hardly proof of that. And even if it was, we are not in a position to rule on deposing her—”
“We aren’t talking about deposing her ourselves, Justice,” Echarthe interrupted. “Their own traditions will take care of that. I’m only recommending we see to it that they carry those traditions out, when the Assembly finally arrives.”
“Then we’d really have cause to celebrate,” Sandrine said, with a sour smile. “If that Motherloving bitch was gone, and Winters were running things, it would solve our whole problem with the local government giving us the access we need to the water of life.” Laughter and murmurs of agreement spread around the table.
“Bigotry and threats against a local head-of-state are not something I consider a subject for humor,” Gundhalinu snapped. Beside him, Vhanu raised his eyebrows.
Sandrine frowned, his irritation showing. “I wasn’t aware that I was saying something humorous.”
“Either that, or treasonous,” Gundhalinu said, feeling himself frown. “I’ve made it plain that prejudiced behavior toward the people of Tiamat is not acceptable from our Police force. It is not acceptable from members of my government either.”
“BZ,” Vhanu murmured in Sandhi, gently nudging Gundhalinu’s arm. “We’re among friends here, after all. We’re all Technician, we understand each other. A situation like this is difficult enough, under the best of circumstances, and the circumstances are hardly the best. Allow us a little slack, won’t thou?”
Gundhalinu took a deep breath. “I suppose thou’re right,” he said softly, answering in Sandhi. The language of his own people was beginning to sound alien to him again, he realized. He had even begun to think in Tiamatan.
“You have defended our rights as a people eloquently since you’ve come here, Justice Gundhalinu,” Wayaways said. “My people are deeply grateful to you for that.” He lifted his hands in something like a shrug. “Why are you suddenly against something like the Change, which has been a tradition of ours far longer even than the cycle of your departures and returns?”
“Precisely because it is such an ancient tradition,” Gundhalinu said, under control again. “There is a new order here now, and the laws of the Change no longer serve any useful function. It has become an act of barbarism. I’ve supported most of the innovations that your Queen made during our absence, because they were positive, and in keeping with the kind of relationship I want to build between our peoples, now that our relationship has become permanent. But human sacrifice is something which has become indefensible—”
“But it’s a part of our religious system.” Wayaways pointed at the data on the screen, his voice taking on an indignant edge. His eyes mocked Gundhalinu, coldly knowing. “You defended the Queen’s protection of the mers on those grounds, did you not? Shouldn’t we be the ones to determine whether the Change rituals still have a meaningful function for us? Do you have some particular personal interest in the Summer Queen’s well-being, that makes you resist anything that might threaten her?”
Gundhalinu felt Vhanu’s eyes on him suddenly; heard the other officials around the table begin to murmur among themselves. “I’ve stated my reasons for restricting the practice. I don’t need to defend them further,” he said flatly.
“The fact remains, Justice,” Vhanu said, “that removing the Summer Queen would be in our best interests. She’s an intractable fanatic. She reigns for life, and she’s not likely to die of natural causes any time soon. I think we should seriously consider this opportunity to get rid of the Queen.”
Gundhalinu looked at him, away again quickly, unsure of his own expression.
“The Prime Minister and the Assembly are going to raise bloody hell if they don’t find the water of life waiting for them,” Borskad, the Minister of Trade, said.
“And riots instead of celebrations,” Wayaways murmured. “I can guarantee that feelings will run high, that there will undoubtedly be public protests and even incidents of violence, if you attempt to suppress a ritual which is such a fundamental part of our culture.”
“Are you threatening the Hegemony, Citizen Wayaways?” Gundhalinu asked, his voice brittle.
Wayaways stiffened, and settled back into his seat.
“The Prime Minister and the Assembly are figureheads, with no real power,” Gundhalinu said impatiently, meeting other stares around the table, “and absolutely no understanding of the complexity of the issues involved here.”
“But the Central Committee has plenty of influence,” Tilhonne said. “My uncle has already threatened to come here himself and find out what in the name of his sainted ancestors is going on, if we don’t reach some kind of compromise with the Queen. If we have riots when the Assembly comes, that will be all he needs to start an investigation. And that could ruin all our careers.” He looked exceedingly unhappy at the prospect.