Gundhalinu barely controlled a frown, aware that Tilhonne’s concern was well-founded. He had autonomy here only as long as he did nothing that attracted too much negative attention. He stared at the Hegemonic Seal, the Eight Worlds symbolized by a sunburst on the wall across the room.
Other voices around him were rising now, impatient, full of concern—all of them anxious about one thing, he was sure, and it was not the well-being of Tiamat’s Queen.
“I move that we vote to accept the petition brought to us by Citizen Wayaways,” Borskad said, registering the motion on his screen. “That there will be a full Change, including the return of Winter to power by the traditional practices of their own theocratic rituals.”
“I won’t allow it,” Gundhalinu said. His hand moved to his touchboard, clearing the screen with an automatic veto.
Echarthe touched his own board again; one by one the others around the table did the same, as Wayaways watched, smiling, hands in his lap. Gundhalinu watched their feedback tally. As the votes became unanimous against him Borskad’s motion reappeared, inexorably, on all their screens.
“Overridden, Justice,” Borskad said. He cracked his knuckles complacently. “The Tiamatans must be permitted to control their own government.”
“I won’t allow it,” Gundhalinu repeated tonelessly. “I’ll have the Police stop them.”
“You can’t do that, BZ,” Vhanu murmured, beside him. Gundhalinu turned, looking into his eyes. “Only I have that authority,” Vhanu said. Gundhalinu saw regret and discomfort in his gaze, but no doubt at all. “You can’t stop it.”
Gundhalinu turned back, seeing the resolve and determination in all their faces. “Damn it, I will not permit the Queen to be sacrificed!”
“There’s no other choice, Justice,” Borskad said bluntly. “The Hegemony wants the water of life. We have to get it for them, one way or another, or they’ll find someone who can.”
“There’s no other way.” Vhanu shook his head. “That woman and her troublesome demands are going to cost all of us our positions here—including your Chief Justiceship, BZ. I would rather see the Queen sacrificed than our entire government, wouldn’t you? After all the years of effort we put into achieving this goal, 1 for one am not ready to lose everything. But that is what will happen.”
“Unless—” Wayaways dropped the single word among the rest, let its ripples spread until there was complete silence.
“Unless what?” Gundhalinu forced himself to ask, knowing that his visible humility and hidden humiliation were required elements in Wayaways’ equation.
“Unless you change your previous ruling and permit the mers to be hunted. Then we can all have what we wanted in the first place—the Hegemony gets the water of life, Tiamat profits from it, and you get to save the Queen. That way everyone is happy … except the Queen, perhaps, but I expect even she would prefer disappointment to death. I’m sure the people would agree to let her continue as Queen as long as we get what we want. She was actually quite an enlightened woman, for a Summer, until she developed this unfortunate religious fixation on the sacredness of the mers. …”
The mutterings began again around the table; their tone was positive this time, urging him to agree. Wayaways sat in their midst without speaking, staring directly at him cross the torus of burnished native wood.
“It makes a lot of sense,” Vhanu murmured in Gundhalinu’s ear, his voice both encouraging and conciliatory.
Gundhalinu looked away from him, tightlipped, and back at Wayaways again. The mers die or the Queen dies, Wayaways’ eyes said to him. You choose. “All right….” Gundhalinu looked down. “All right,” he said again, his voice stronger, as if he were actually in control of the situation. “I’m rescinding my ban on the mer hunts. But there will be no more sacrifices, no more Changes in the old way. Summers and Winters will have to work out some other way of doing things from now on.”
“You are as wise as you are fair, Justice Gundhalinu,” Wayaways said, and smiled.
“The Council meeting is adjourned.” Gundhalinu blanked his screen, and crushed the food wrapper into oblivion in his hidden fist.
TIAMAT: Carbuncle
“The Queen, sir.”
Moon moved past the uniformed aide as he stepped aside for her. She glanced away selfconsciously as he caught her staring a moment too long at his face. The alienness of his offworlder features, of every person’s features since she had entered the Government complex, only made her feel more strongly that she had stepped outside the safety of her own world, and into the unknown. She tried not to think of it as enemy ground, but the image formed anyway in her unwilling thoughts. The aide glanced down, too quickly, from staring at her own face a moment too long; she saw only curiosity in his gaze, nothing more.
She moved on into the office, taking in old familiar surroundings made suddenly disconcerting by the overlay of things which were new and unfamiliar. BZ Gundhaiinu, Chief Justice of Tiamat, sat waiting for her behind the smooth, modular form of a desk/terminal—its electronic systems all fully alive and functional, and still just as startling, to some perverse part of her mind, as the strangers who were its new purveyors. She wondered how long it would be before native and offworlder stopped seeming alien to one another … whether they ever would.
BZ’s eyes touched her face, alive with surprise and pleasure. As she saw his expression her sense of uncertainty vanished, along with all sense that she was looking at the face of a stranger. He smiled; she felt the sudden, painful constriction of her heart, something she had grown so used to that she kept all sign of it from showing in her response. She forced herself to remember why she had come, that it had nothing to do with the sight of him; and that he would understand that, all too soon.
He pushed up from his seat. “Lady,” he said, bowing his head in acknowledgment, the formality of his speech belying what she had seen in his eyes, as he found her standing before him alone. “This is an unexpected pleasure. Welcome to my office.” His smile widened as he started around the corner of his desk to greet her.
“You are welcome to my office, Justice Gundhalinu,” she said, holding out her hand in a way that forced him to shake it, like a Tiamatan. He took her hand; his grip was gentle and strong, keeping the contact slightly longer than was necessary. She closed her fingers over the lingering warmth in her palm as he let it go; lowered her hand to her side. He looked at her quizzically, and her own smile turned wry. “This was my office, when the Sibyl College met here … as it did for all the years while you were gone.” The College met in the palace now.
“Ah,” he said, and his smile caught slightly. He glanced away at the aide, who was still waiting in the doorway. “Thank you, Stathis. … No interruptions, while I’m meeting with the Queen.” The aide saluted and left the room; the door closed behind him, granting them privacy. BZ remained where he was, motionless, for a moment longer; she became acutely aware of his sudden sense of awkwardness, and her own. “Please, sit down.” He gestured toward a low, wing-form chair, and retreated behind his desk.
“This is the first time you’ve come… here”—barely avoiding “to my office”—”to meet with me. It must be an important matter, Lady. What can I do for you?” In all their previous encounters he had gone to the palace, at her request. He had usually attended those meetings surrounded by a shield of advisors, just as she had. She had wondered whether it was for the same reason, as she lay sleepless at night after every meeting, replaying in her memory his every word, his every gesture. They had not been alone together once, since his arrival; and until today, she had never met with him on the Hegemony’s ground. He leaned forward across the safe barrier of his desktop, his body asking her for an answer she could not give.