BZ shrugged. “For being an outside observer,” he said, glancing away. He put his arms around her, because that at least was once again his right. He smiled down at her suddenly, ruefully. “I’m too young to be a grandfather,” he said.
She looked back at him, with a smile as sudden and as bittersweet. “Not on this world,” she said. “You’re on Tiamat now, you know.” She looked down again. “Stay with me tonight, BZ.” She pressed her face against the cloth of his jacket.
He nodded, knowing that he should not, but knowing that he could no more bear to spend this night alone with his hope and his fears than she could.
She led him through the cold, rococo halls of the palace to her bedroom, neither of them having any appetite for a late supper. He lay down beside her in the bed, sighing as the bird-down mattress embraced him like his lover’s arms. Having no strength left for lovemaking, either, they only held each other, for a long time, saying little, trying to think of even less. Moon left a lamp burning on their bedside table, unable to bear the oppressive power of utter darkness.
She slept, finally, finding peace in his arms. And watching over her, with the breathing warmth of her body pressed close against his own, he felt his own eyes grow heavy, and at last he slept.
He did not know whether it was hours or only minutes later when the doors of the room burst open with an unceremonious crash, jolting him awake. He sat up in bed, sleep-fogged and befuddled. Moon pushed up onto her elbow beside him, pulling the covers over her breasts as they confronted half a dozen men in blue Police uniforms.
“Vhanu—?” BZ said incredulously, shielding his eyes with his arm as the lights came up in the room. “What the hell are you doing here? What in the name of a thousand gods is the meaning of this!”
Vhanu stood looking down at them where they lay, side by side. What Gundhalinu saw then in the eyes of his former friend—the pity, the unforgiving censure, the desperate resolve—were all the answer he needed. Vhanu straightened his shoulders as if he were about to salute, but he did not. “Justice Gundhalinu, I have come to arrest you.”
“On what charges?” BZ asked, still not entirely certain that he was not having a nightmare.
Vhanu’s mouth pulled down. “It is my… difficult and painful duty, Justice, to inform you that you are charged with treason.”
TIAMAT: Carbuncle
Moon followed the taciturn officer through the blur of motion that was the interior of Police headquarters, staring straight ahead at his uniformed back. All around her she sensed the surprise spreading outward, like the wash from a ship’s prow—the gossip, the speculation, the curious stares: It’s the Queen. She’s come to see Gundhalinu, come to see her lover. Caught them bare-assed together, committing treasonable acts … Gundhalinu the hero, Gundhalinu the traitor: What does the Mother lovers’ Queen want with him now that he’s locked up?...
She had asked the duty sergeant to let her see Chief Justice Gundhalinu. He had shaken his head and said, “No one is permitted to see the prisoner.” The prisoner. No indication of what he had been, until yesterday; what he had meant to his people, all he had done for the Hegemony. She had demanded to see the Chief Inspector. He had handed her over to one of his officers, and sent her through this gauntlet of smirking gossip.
She passed through it, scarcely even registering the unwanted attention, her mind preoccupied with losses and questions of such magnitude that the mockery of the strangers surrounding her was reduced to the meaningless noise that it was; until the voices began to fall silent, as if they realized it too, and she passed beyond them.
“The Queen to see you, ma’am.” Her guide showed her into an office, saluted, and left, shutting the door behind him.
Jerusha PalaThion looked up at her in surprise, over an armload of supplies. Jerusha dropped the supplies unceremoniously into an empty crate.
Moon hesitated, half-frowning. “What are you doing?” she said. There were other boxes piled up beside the desk/terminal, already filled; the shelves and storage units of the office were virtually empty.
Tm clearing out my desk,” Jerusha answered, her voice heavy with irony. “The Commander of Police informed me this morning that he had charged BZ with treason, and declared martial law. And that after today is over I will no longer be serving as Chief Inspector.”
“Lady’s Tits!” Moon struck the closed door with her fist, as the memory of last night filled her. She sagged against the ancient, unyielding surface, suddenly strengthless. “Damn him! May he rot in any hell he chooses.” She looked up again, to find complete agreement in the other woman’s eyes. “Have you seen BZ—have you spoken with him? Is he all right?”
Jerusha shook her head. “Vhanu won’t let anyone near him; particularly not anyone who might be tempted to help him. By the Boatman, I’ve tried.” She sat down in her desk chair, resting her forehead on her hands.
Moon crossed the room. “You said he’s declared martial law? What gives him that right?”
“He’s second in the power structure after the Chief Justice. With BZ stripped of his office, Vhanu’s in charge. He’s calling it a state of emergency, until he receives orders from the Central Committee, or they send a new Chief Justice. It basically empowers him to do anything.” Jerusha’s face turned grim.
“And if I object—?” Moon broke off, turning as the office door opened suddenly behind her.
“Then I have the power to enforce my decisions,” the Commander of Police said evenly. He made a small, correct bow. “Lady.” He looked away from her, toward Jerusha. Jerusha rose from her seat, and saluted stiffly. He returned the salute, expressionless.
Moon felt her face burn. “Are you threatening to attack my people?” she said, shaken by anger.
“Not unless you give me cause.” His eyes were as impenetrable as obsidian.
“And what do you mean by that?” She stood away from the desk, her arms rigidly at her sides.
“I intend to resume hunting the mers. If you or your people give me trouble over it, I will retaliate. Needless to say, your people will be the ones on the losing end of any conflict, not the Hegemony.”
“Is this what ‘autonomy’ means to the Hegemony, then?” Moon said. “That you don’t interfere in our internal affairs, unless you feel like it? Unless we don’t put your right to exploit our world before our culture and beliefs or even the right of the mers—who have more claim to this world than any of us—simply to live and not die?”
“A state of emergency, and martial law, are justified in a situation of extreme civil unrest or strife,” Vhanu said tonelessly. “Our purpose here is to keep the peace.”
“I have Seen told thai your people value honor above everything else. I see that I was misinformed,” Moon murmured. She felt more than heard Jerusha draw a sudden breath; saw Vhanu’s eyes flicker, and knew that she had stung him.
Vhanu’s mouth thinned. “I would walk softly, if I were you, Lady. Your much-prized autonomy is the only thing that protects you from the same charges I brought against the Chief Justice.”
She flushed. “You had no right—”
“I had no right—?” His hand jerked, fisted. “You had no right to seduce him, to use your body to make him give you anything you wanted! He had no right, to turn his back on his own people! He had no right to be so weak. Someone had to stop this madness, before he ruined everything we had here. I was his best friend, damn you—!” A tremor shook him, as if he had to restrain himself from laying hands on her.
“But only for as long as he gave you everything you wanted,” she said, softly, coldly. “He loves me, and I love him. But he made the choices he did not because he is my lover, but because he is an honorable man.”