“Well, come then,” Sirus said, his expression turning to surprise as everyone around him remained motionless. “Surely we are all entitled to our share of this blessing? Unless of course you’ve already sampled it?”
“No,” Moon said, her voice filled with desolation. “I don’t drink blood. Mers die for every drop of the water of life you take. The Hegemony has broken our laws to slaughter them—”
He stared at her for a moment, as if it had never actually occurred to him before how the water of life was obtained.
“This was the matter concerning the mers that I wanted to talk with you about,” she said, looking at him now, with pain-shadowed eyes.
“Ye gods,” he murmured, chagrined. “I never imagined the two things would be related… . But yes, I still wish to discuss it, more than before. Dinner will run long, if I recall, and we can—”
“No.” She shook her head, her face stiff and unyielding. “To attend your dinner as if nothing had happened would mean that I accept what was done here tonight, and that would make me a complete hypocrite.” She looked at Gundhalinu, away from him again, before he could speak.
“Moon—” Sparks said, catching at her arm as she started to turn away.
“Stay if you want to,” she answered, with both understanding and anger in her glance. She started away, with Tammis and Merovy following her wordlessly.
Sparks hesitated, looking at his father. But then he shook his head, murmuring something that Gundhalinu could not make out, before he went after them. As he passed, Sparks met Gundhalinu’s eyes briefly, with a look that raked his conscience like claws. Surprised and disturbed, Gundhalinu watched until the other man disappeared through the doorway across the room.
Sirus shook his head, caught between concern and embarrassment, as they found themselves standing abruptly alone in the crowd. “Will you join me, then, at least, Gundhalinusadhu?” he asked, gesturing toward the water of life.
“No, sadhu,” Gundhalinu said. “I’m afraid I would find it undrinkable.”
Sirus stared at him a moment longer, and then looked away again at the silver vial still circulating through the crowd. He sighed. “Well, perhaps I am beginning to lose my interest in it—at least until I’ve heard more about this. You are staying for dinner, I hope?”
Gundhalinu smiled faintly. “Yes, Sirus-sadhu. I have no choice in that matter, unlike the Queen.” He glanced toward the doorway that she had disappeared through, watching the counter-ripple of comment her abrupt departure had caused collide with the spreading excitement of the water of life. As he watched, he saw to his surprise that Ariele Dawntreader was arguing angrily with someone. He saw her turn and leave, as if she was offended like her mother by the water of life and all that it stood for.
As she disappeared from his sight, his gaze fell on Vhanu, standing near the door. “Excuse me. I have someone I have to speak with first.” He left Sirus and made his way through the gossiping crowd, trying to hear as little as possible of what was said along the way.
He reached the place where Vhanu stood waiting. “Damn it, NR,” he said furiously, “how the hell did this happen? This is a diplomatic slap in the face. The Queen was so angry she’s left the complex. I never authorized this—”
“It was Tilhonne’s idea, to have the water of life here and present it to the Assembly—”
“With Wayaways’ eager cooperation, no doubt.” Gundhalinu said sourly.
Vhanu shrugged, and nodded.
“How did they perform a hunt, without the Queen’s cooperation? Arienrhod used her Starbuck, and dillyp hunters from Tsieh-pun to—”
“I authorized any supplies and operators they might need to get the job done.”
“Gods! And it was thy doing—?” Gundhalinu repeated, feeling himself flush. “By what authority? Goddammit, NR, how could thou not bring this to me?”
“Because I knew thou would reject it out of hand.” Vhanu frowned, his hands twitching at his sides. “In the name of a thousand gods, BZ, we have to make a good impression if we want the continued support of the ones who count, back on Kharemough. We have to prove we’re getting the job done. That we’re in control here, and not some enclave of superstitious natives. And damn it, thou were letting this obsession with ‘enlightened government’ get in the way of that.” Gundhalinu saw his own troubled image reflected in the other man’s eyes, and looked away. “Thou were cutting thy own throat. I did this thing for thee.”
“You did it for yourself,” Gundhalinu snapped, suddenly both angry and defensive. “Don’t confuse the two things.”
Vhanu’s mouth tightened, at his use of the formal you. “Very well then. I did it for both of us—for all of us, just as Tilhonne did.” His expression changed; he put his hands on Gundhalinu’s shoulders with gentle insistence. “BZ, thou know I have always had the highest regard for thee. Thou are my friend. There is no one I admire more. But whatever thy reasons are for wanting to be here, I promise thee, once thou have taken the time to think it through thou will be grateful for what we did tonight.”
Gundhalinu said nothing more, watching the last of the water of life disappear down the last eager Assembly member’s throat. “They’re going in to dinner,” he said finally, turning back, meeting Vhanu’s gaze. “Shall we join them?”
Vhanu nodded, and they went in together without further conversation.
The rose-colored light of dawn was showing through the storm walls at the end of Azure Alley as Gundhalinu reached his townhouse door at last, weary and alone. He glanced toward the dawn, the proof that a world, and a universe, still existed beyond the changeless walls and undimming light of Carbuncle. He looked away from the brightening sky again, without emotion, too drained to feel anything at the sight of it, to find any false symbolism in the simple light of day.
His memory of the night just past, after the appearance of the water of life and the disappearance of the Queen, was a blur: an endless meal that he had barely touched, punctuated by endless questions from the First Secretary. He had answered the questions to the best of his ability, unable to focus on anything but the knowledge that Sirus was a powerless figurehead, which Sirus knew as well as he did; that no protest anyone made, no matter how influential, would be enough … that Moon had left the starport without giving him a chance to explain. All that he knew clearly now, standing on his own doorstep, was that he had a headache three times the size of his head, and even the complexities of his door lock were barely within the capacity of his problem-solving.
He tripped over something that lay in the shadows of his entryway, swore as he lost his balance and banged his shoulder against the wall. He bent down, to discover a wide, flat bundle sitting on his step. He explored it cautiously with his hands. It was large but very light, and rustled faintly when he shook it. There was no note attached to it, not even his name; but for a reason he could not explain he sensed no threat about it. He picked it up, holding it under his arm as he deactivated the security lock and let himself inside. He dropped the lidded basket on a table in his living room, and went in search of a pain patch for his aching head.
He came back through the wide, arched doorway, loosening his collar, and collapsed on the earth-colored native couch. He breathed in the faint ocean-smell of the dried seahair that had been used to stuff its cushions. He sighed, realizing that he had actually begun to find the peculiar odor soothing. He put his feet up and closed his eyes, calling on music from the entertainment system across the room. The familiar strains of a Kharemoughi art song filled the silence of the house as he let the analgesic patch do its work; feeling it dull the pain until there was only a bearable heaviness behind his eyes, and he could think again.