But he looked away from her again; sank back, to lie motionless in the bedding, with his hands covering his face. “No,” he whispered. “No….”
Ariele pushed herself up; dared to touch him again. He did not shake her off, and so she moved closer, to rest her head on his shoulder. He flinched, but still he did nothing to prevent her from being there.
“Oh, Reede,” she murmured, against his neck. “I love you so much. You’ve changed everything for me.”
He said something in a language she didn’t know, that sounded like a curse. “You don’t know anything about love, or about being changed … damn you, “he said bitterly. But his arms went around her, pulling her to him, cradling her against him as if he were afraid she might disappear. He stroked her hair. “What am I going to do?” he said, to the ceiling, or the air.
“Are you worried about my mother?” she asked.
He looked at her blankly. “What?”
“She won’t be angry with you… . She might even be happy with me, for once.”
Something like comprehension filled his eyes; but he only grimaced. “Don’t tell your mother. For gods’ sakes, don’t tell anyone!”
“But why not? Everyone already thinks—”
He sat up, glaring at her in furious desperation. “You don’t even know the truth—”
She stared at him. “Then tell me.”
“It’s too late,” he said, shaking his head. He lay down again beside her. “Too late…” He looked away from her eyes, down along her body. His hand reached out, uncertainly, to touch her breast, making her shiver and stretch with languorous desire. He rolled over, beginning to kiss her, beginning to make love to her again, with an urgency that took her breath away… and then sensation was all she knew.
TIAMAT: Hegemonic Starport
“Did you enjoy your tour of the complex, Lady?” Vhanu asked, behind him.
Gundhalinu turned away from the window wall, abruptly startled out of his reverie. He had managed to lose himself in the spectacular, eye-numbing view of the starport’s landing grids; avoiding conversation, letting the incandescence twenty meters below him burn away all conscious thought for minutes at a time. Vhanu’s question forced his attention back into the crowded reception hall as the Queen and her husband joined them. Jerusha PalaThion, who had accompanied the Queen on the tour, stood with them now, staring out at the grids as if her own mind were somewhere else entirely.
“Yes. It was fascinating,” Moon said, her voice holding just the right amount of awe. Her glance left Vhanu’s face briefly; Gundhalinu saw the wary amusement in her eyes. It was not the first time she had set foot in the complex, although Vhanu did not know that. The last time had also been the night of the Assembly’s arrival on Tiamat; but then it had marked the beginning of the end, the Final Departure of the Hegemony from Tiamat, and not the Return.
She had not been an honored, invited guest then. She had been an exhausted refugee … and so had the young inspector Gundhalinu, missing and presumed dead. Together they had come out of the wilderness, starving, frozen, and wholly unexpected; and although the natives were forbidden to set foot in the complex, the duty sergeant had taken one look into the eyes of Inspector Gundhalinu, who had risen from the grave, and let them pass.
They had arrived in the middle of a celebration exactly like the one taking place tonight, and the pleasure and unspeakable relief he had felt, to find himself back among his own people, alive, safe, and going home, had matched the celebration of all the assembled guests in the hall that night.
He glanced at Jerusha PalaThion again, at her expressionless face, wondering what she was thinking tonight. She had been Commander of Police then; this time she was only a Chief Inspector. But her life had undergone so much change in the years between—almost as much as his own had—that he could not imagine what her reactions were. He remembered suddenly how she had smiled as she came into the infirmary room where he was being treated; how her pleasure at the sight of him had filled his beaten, shivering body with warmth and strength.
And he remembered the looks on the faces of the Assembly members who had followed her—thinking they had come to honor one of their own, a Kharemoughi Technician who had been lost in the barbaric wilderness—as they saw the scars of his failed suicide attempt on his wrists, and listened to him blurt out his forbidden feelings for the Tiamatan woman who had saved his life.
He glanced down at his wrists, as if he would suddenly find the red weals of fresh scar tissue standing out against his skin; although he had had all traces of them removed long ago, and scarcely even thought about them anymore. He felt surprise as he realized that, because once he had been so certain that a day would never pass when he would not think about them, even if they were made invisible; when he would not hate himself simply for being alive….
But now, after so many years, it also surprised him to realize that although he could barely remember what he had eaten for dinner yesterday, he still remembered every stinging word of mockery and censure that had been spoken to him that night in the infirmary; how if he had had the strength left in him to do it, he would have taken the nearest sharp medical instrument and finished what he had so ineffectually started….
He felt himself blinking too much; forced his mind to concentrate on the complexities of an adhani until his emotions were back under control. He glanced at Moon, wondering what she remembered of that night, so long ago for both of them, when his own people’s self-righteous cruelty had driven him to turn renegade, rejecting everything he had ever believed; and by that act, helped Moon Dawntreader achieve her destiny.
She was not looking at him now, but stood listening to Vhanu discuss more details of the starport’s function, with her own face carefully composed. She wore a long, fluid robe that would not have been out of place on Kharemough, although there was something about the subtle dappling of greens in the restless fabric that made him think of leaves moving in the wind, waves on the sea; something wholly Tiamatan. She wore her hair in a simple loose plait down her back, woven with golden thread, and on her head a diadem made of what looked like crystal. He had never seen her wear anything like a crown before; realized that it must be one of Arienrhod’s, and worn for a calculated effect. She held herself like a queen; but that, he realized, was something she had always done.… He looked away from her as the ache in his chest suddenly grew too strong.
Sparks Dawntreader was listening too, his face taking on a rare animation, as if he were honestly interested in the subject Vhanu was discussing. He was dressed in an imported tunic and pants, formally cut, and there was nothing, superficially, that would have marked him as a native.
“… but forgive me,” Vhanu said, “I must be boring you, droning on about such technical matters.” Gundhalinu heard the unconscious dismissal of the Queen and her husband as less than rational, educated human beings.
“Not at all,” Moon said. Gundhalinu saw the brief glint of anger in her eyes, and knew that she had heard the unthinking judgment too. “This has certainly satisfied a healthy curiosity in me to know what your starport is like. It has been a restricted area for my people for so long, even though it has played such a vital part in the fate of our world…. Although I have to admit it really doesn’t compare with the orbital cities that circle your homeworld, Commander Vhanu.”
Vhanu looked at her blankly. “Have you … seen a tape of the starport hub, then?” he asked.
“No, I’ve seen the starport. I visited there when I was a girl. That was when I learned about the sibyl net.” She smiled, pleasantly, in the face of Vhanu’s suddenly acute discomfort.