The Summer Queen (28 page)

Ananke took it into his arms gingerly, keeping its long,
rodentine teeth away from contact with his hands, protected by the layers of
his robes as he held it against his chest, murmuring softly to it. He glanced
up at Reede again, for long enough to murmur, “Thank you.”

But Reede’s attention was somewhere else already. He moved
away from them abruptly, shoving past a couple of locals to pick someone out of
the crowd of curiosity seekers. He caught the boy by his robes and dragged him
forward, pitched him over the cistern’s rim almost before the boy had time to
scream in protest.

Kedalion heard the boy’s scream as he went in, and heard the
splash as he hit the water far below. The motion had happened almost too fast
for him to recognize the victim as one of the quoll’s tormentors, the one who
had thrown it into the cistern.

Reede came back to them, not looking right or left now, his
face expressionless as he glanced at the quoll. It had stopped struggling and
was burrowing into the folds of Ananke’s sleeve, making anxious oinkmg sounds,
almost as if it were trying to become a part of his body. Ananke stroked its
bedraggled fur as gently as if he were touching velvet.

Reede moved on past them, the motion signaling them to follow.

“Reede—” Kedalion said, catching up to him with an effort.

“Drop it,” Reede said, and the words were deadly.

“—Are we going back to the citadel?” Kedalion finished, as
if that were what he had intended to ask.

“No.” Reede looked away; looked down at himself and grimaced,
shrugged, looked away again. “I have other business to tend to. Drop me in
Temple Square. Take the evening off; I’ll call you when I’m through.”

“You better tend those bites,” Kedalion said. “The gods only
know what that quoll—”

Reede looked down at him, his irritation showing. “Don’t
worry about me, Niburu,” he said sourly. “I’m not worth it.”

“Just worrying about my job,” Kedalion muttered, trying to
bury his unintentional display of concern as rapidly as possible.

“I thought you hated this job,” Reede snapped.

“I do,” Kedalion snapped back.

Reede laughed, one of the unexpectedly normal laughs that always
took Kedalion by surprise. “If I die I’ve left you everything I own in my will.”

Kedalion snorted. “Gods help me,” he murmured, half-afraid
it might even be true. He unsealed the doors of the hovercraft.

Reede grinned, climbing into the rear as the doors rose. He
sat down heavily, obliviously, his clothes saturating the expensive upholstery
of the seat with pink-tinged water. Kedalion got in behind the controls; Ananke
climbed in beside him. Ananke was still carrying the quoll, which had buried
itself in his robes until all that was visible was its head pressed flat
against his neck, sheltered beneath his chin. It still made a constant burbling
song, as if it sought a reassurance that did not exist in the real world.
Ananke clucked softly with his tongue, and stroked it with slow hands. He
glanced up, as if he felt Kedalion’s eyes on him; his own eyes were full of an
emotion Kedalion had never seen in them before, and then they were full of uncertainty.

Kedalion smiled, and nodded. “Just don’t let it shit all
over everything, all right?” He took them up, rising over the heads of the
streetbound crowd and higher still, until even the flat rooftops were looking
up at them. He could see the pyramidal peaks of half a dozen temples rising
above the city’s profile; he headed for the one that he knew Reede meant, the
one near the starport that the local police had driven them into one fateful
night. He tried not to think about that night, without much success.

He brought the flyer down again, settling without incident
into an unobtrusive cul-de-sac near the club where they had all first met. The
Survey Hall still occupied the address above its hidden entrance. Reede often
came to this neighborhood, although what he did here was as obscure to Kedalion
as most of his activities were.

Reede got out again, saying only, “Do what you want. I’ll
call you, but it won’t be soon.”

Kedalion nodded, and watched him move off down the street
with the casual arrogance of a carnivore. Reminded of other animals, he turned
to look at Ananke; at the quoll, lying against Ananke’s chest like a baby in
folds of cloth, only muttering to itself occasionally now. “How did you do
that?” he asked.

Ananke shrugged, stroking its prominent bulge of nose with a
finger. “Quolls are very quiet, really. You just have to let them be.” The
quoll regarded him with one bright black eye, and blinked.

Kedalion half smiled. “You could say the same about humans.”

“But it wouldn’t be true.”

Kedalion’s smile widened. “No. I guess not.” He glanced away
down the street; Reede had stopped at a jewelry vendor’s cart near the corner
of the alley.

“I want to go to the fruit seller.”

Kedalion popped his door. “Go ahead. You heard the boss: Do
what you want.”

“You’re the boss, Kedalion.” Ananke grinned fleetingly, his
white teeth flashing.

Kedalion shook his head, not really a denial. “Since when do
you have an appetite for wholesome food?” Whenever they were in town Ananke
lived on keff rolls—bits of unidentifiable meat and other questionable
ingredients, rolled in dough and fried in fat, all so highly spiced that pain
seemed to be their only discernible flavor. “Is the fruit seller young and
pretty?”

“Quolls only eat vegetables and fruit,” Ananke said,
glancing down.

Kedalion shrugged and nodded, watched him get out and wander
off in the direction of the square, passing Reede, who was haggling with the
jewelry vendor. Kedalion had never seen Ananke show any real interest in either
a woman or a man, and that was strange enough. The kid seemed to be
pathologically shy, to the point of never letting anyone see him undressed—something
which could get damned inconvenient in the crowded quarters of a small ship on
an interstellar voyage. Maybe that explained his problem, or maybe it was only
another symptom of whatever the real problem was .... He supposed it didn’t
really matter what Ananke’s problem was, as long as he did his job and didn’t
go berserk.

He stretched and got out of the hovercraft, securing the
doors behind him. He thought about Ravien’s club, remembering Shalfaz. He hadn’t
gone back there for a long time, after what had happened to them that night.
And when he had, it had been after two trips offworld with Reede. More than
nine years had passed at Ravien’s, while only two had passed for him. Someone
had told him then that Shalfaz had retired. She’d gone into the somewhat more
respectable profession of dye-painting—decorating the hands of wealthy, daring
young women with intricate designs for weddings and feast days. He was glad for
her, but he missed her. And he sure as hell didn’t miss the drinks, or the
atmosphere, at Ravien’s. Maybe he’d just go get himself some early dinner ....

He made his way around the rear of the craft, heading for
the square. As he glanced back, checking it over a last time, his eye caught on
something that lay glinting in the dust. He went back and picked it up. It was
the white metal pendant set with a solii that Reede always wore—he called it
his good luck charm. The quoll must have broken the chain in its struggles, and
the pendant had fallen out of his clothes.

Kedalion glanced down the street, saw Reede’s back him as he
started away from the jewelry vendor’s cart. “Reede!” he called, but Reede went
on around the corner.

Kedalion started after him down the narrow street, not even
sure why; telling himself that handling Reede’s lost charm made his own
superstitions itch. He reached the corner, ignoring the jewelry seller’s
singsong wheedling as he looked past the cart at the open square. After a
moment his eyes found Reede in the crowd, as the flash of dangling crystals
danced across the stark black of his vest-back.

Reede was not moving fast, which meant there was half a
chance his own short legs might catch up with Reede’s long ones. Kedalion
pushed on, keeping to the edges of the unusually heavy crowds. The air reeked
with incense. It must be some sort of feast day, for so many people to be out
in the square, damn the luck. But he was gaining on Reede, slowly, and he
called out his name again. Reede glanced back, but Kedalion was hidden by the
crowd.

Reede went on again, walking faster. They were nearing the place
where Ravien’s club was located. For a brief moment Kedalion wondered if he was
headed there—he swore under his breath as he saw Reede turn off suddenly into a
passageway between two of the buildings that ringed the square. He kept his
eyes fixed on the spot until he reached it, and ducked into the same entrance,
below a peeling archway. The shadowy access was so dark after the brightness of
the square that he had to stop a moment, blinking until his eyes adjusted.
There were ancient flagstones under his feet, featureless walls with no
openings on either side of him, so close together that he could almost reach
out and touch them. Reede was nowhere in sight.

Kedalion went along the passage, doggedly, unable to stop
now until he had found out where Reede had gone. The passageway ended abruptly
at a featureless metal door. He pushed on it; to his surprise it let him in.

The corridor beyond it was startlingly clean and modern.
Inset glowplates gave him dim but sufficient light as he moved along it, more
confidently now, until he reached another set of doors. The doors slid back at
his approach, opening on a meeting room. He stopped dead as the people gathered
there turned to stare at him. He stared back, taking in the glow of datascrsens
around a torus-shaped table, the hologramic display at the table’s core, the
startling contrast among the faces seated around it or still standing together
near the doorway.

Half a dozen of them had ringed him in already, looking down
at him with the eyes of Death, before he had time to realize he had made a
mistake that was probably fatal.

“Are you a stranger far from home?” an ebony-skinned man
wearing the robes of a High Priest asked him.

Kedahon glanced down at himself. “I guess it shows, then,”
he said, and smiled feebly. The smile faded as he watched weapons blossom like
deadly flowers, and knew that he had not given them the right answer.

“Kill him,” a voice said from somewhere.

“Reede—” he said, “I’m looking for Reede!” raising his voice
in desperation.

“Niburu!” Reede’s face appeared suddenly, like a vision,
among the faces of offworld drug bosses, local police and church officials,
other faces he couldn’t put any occupation to. Reede pushed into the center of
the ring and caught him by the shirt front. “What the fuck are you doing here—?”
Reede’s fist tightened; the exasperation on his face was as genuine as the
anger.

“I thought you’d want this.” Kedalion held out the charm,
keeping his voice barely under control.

Reede snatched the charm from his hand, and stared at it. “Gods
...” he muttered, like a man who had lost his soul. As he stuffed it into his
pocket, Kedalion realized that two men and a woman standing in the circle
around him were wearing the same pendant. One of the men was a drug boss named
Sarkh; the woman was Reede’s new wife, Humbaba’s ex-wife, Mundilfoere.

“Reede—?” someone demanded from behind him.

“He’s my man. He saw nothing. Right—?” Reede’s hand closed
painfully over Kedalion’s shoulder. “You saw nothing.”

Kedalion shook his head, as Reede pushed him roughly backward
through the barrier of bodies until they were both out in the hall. The doors
sealed shut behind them.

“You saw nothing,” Reede repeated, softly this time, looking
down at him with something in his eyes that Kedalion almost imagined was compassion.
“Never follow me again.” He released his grip on Kedalion’s shirt, turned his
back on him and disappeared through the doors as if his pilot had ceased to
exist.

Kedalion stood a moment longer in the hall, before he had
the strength to shake off the invisible hands that still seemed to hold him
prisoner. He turned finally and went back along the hall, along the passageway,
and out to the street.

“What the hell was that all about?” Sarkh snarled, as Reede
reentered the meeting room alone.

“This.” Reede pulled the solii pendant out of his pocket and
held it up.

The eyes of everyone in the room were on him, now, but he
made no further explanation. One by one they began to look away from his gaze,
backing down. P Sarkh frowned. “That was a stupid risk. I think we should—” p “Don’t
think, Sarkh,” Reede said. “Why spoil your perfect record?” fl Sarkh turned
back, his face mottling with anger, and took a step toward Reede.

“I speak for Kedalion.” Mundilfoere stepped quickly between
them. “Reede—remember where you are!” She held up a dark hand, palm open, in
front of each of them; stepped back again, in what seemed to be a single fluid
motion. The two men eased off. “Kedalion Niburu has worked for Reede for years,”
she said, looking at Sarkh. “He saw nothing that he could have understood. And
he is perfectly trustworthy. He will do what he is told; and he was told to
forget it.” She twitched a shoulder, half smiling.

Sarkh grunted and shrugged, turning away as Mundilfoere
looked back at Reede. She was not wearing bells and veils now; never did, here.
She was dressed in the formless gray coveralls of a starport loader, her long,
midnight-black hair pulled back in a pragmatic knot. A perfect disguise ... or
maybe the woman back at Humbaba’s citadel was really the disguise. There was no
trace of deference in her manner here, nothing but anger in the glance that
flicked over him and found his behavior wanting.

“Mundilfoere—” he said, his hand reaching for her almost unconsciously.

“Sit down,” she said, and turned her back before he could
touch her. Her motion sent out ripples through the figures still standing; they
followed her like a wake toward the meeting table. A few of them glanced back
at him, at his wet clothes and the fresh scratches on his bare arms and throat,
as they took their appointed places.