The Summer Queen (58 page)

He took his hand from hers as the drinks appeared, surprised
and slightly embarrassed, relieved to have an excuse to free himself. He
offered her a goblet grown of synthetic sapphire, with the heavy silver liquid
lying restlessly in its convolutions. She took it as he lifted his own in
acknowledgment.

“To adventures,” she said, with a sudden, glinting grin. The
light in her palm shone through the goblet in her hand, illuminating it like
some uncanny magic.

“No,” he said softly, and shook his head. “Adventures are
only tragedies that didn’t happen.”

She glanced down, considering. “Then to life—” she said,
looking at him again.

He nodded. “To life.” He sipped the silver liquid they
called the water of life, feeling it fill his head with the bittersweet taste
of memories. The last time he had drunk it he had been hardly more than a boy,
still living in his father’s house, on the ancestral estates .... He remembered
his home, the beauty and peace of the land, his father’s voice. He took another
sip, and remembered the future—remembering Tiamat, the source of the genuine
water of life, and suddenly, vividly, Moon, her face as pale as the endless
fields of snow, her body warm with life against his own .... He took another
sip, and forced his mind back into the present, forced his eyes to register the
astonished pleasure on the face of the elegant stranger standing beside him
now.

She sighed. “Oh, this is well-named.”

He smiled, and nodded again. They shared a space of silence,
savoring the guilty pleasure of each other’s company. At last, moved by his own
curiosity, he asked, “You truly weren’t invited to this party?” He could see
nothing about her that would make her an unwelcome guest. He thought, rather
surprised at himself, that if anyone consulted him right now, he would put her
high on the list of people he would like to share the evening with. He blinked,
forcing his eyes away from her face.

“No.” She lifted her head, the pearls whispering against her
neck. “I was specifically excluded.”

He opened his mouth, about to ask the obvious question, when
there was a knock at the silverwood doors. She turned, startled, her face
betraying barely controlled panic.

Gundhalinu gestured her to silence, urging her aside as he
moved toward the doors.

The doors swung inward before he could even reach them. He
stopped, blinking, caught like a moth in the flood of light and noise. He stole
a quick, cautioning glance at the dark angle behind the left-hand door, which
now concealed the uninvited guest from view. She had closed her hand, stopping
the light from the glowspot.

“Excuse me, sir—” The new intruder wore the formal clothing
of a party guest, but Gundhalinu recognized the discreetly disguised
communicator worn by house security personnel. She shifted slightly, trying to
see past him into the dim-lit corners of the room.

“What is it?” he asked, his awkward discomfort sounding to
his own ears like impatience.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,” she said, “but I had a
message that an unauthorized visitor had come into this room.”

“Not while I’ve been here,” he said, amazed at how easily
the lie came out. “I’ve been trying to catch a few minutes of rest—” He nodded
at the darkened space behind him in explanation.

“No one at all has been here?” She gave him the kind of look
that he had once given to suspected conspirators.

“Someone did stop in for a moment to ask whether I needed
anything.” He shrugged, all too casually. “Perhaps that was what it was.”

She nodded, looking relieved. “And do you need anything, sir—?”

“Only to be allowed to clean myself up and change in peace,”
he said.

“Of course, sir.” She nodded again, chastened. “I’ll see
that you aren’t disturbed.” She backed out of his presence, closing the doors
after her.

Gundhalinu sighed, feeling giddy, as the woman in black
stepped out of the shadows and opened her palm, releasing light into the space
around them again.

“Thank you.” She smiled, bowing her head in gratitude,
pearls whispering against her neck.

Gundhalinu opened his mouth to call on the room lights; hesitated,
suddenly realizing that he preferred the shadows, the subtle mystery of this
shared conspiracy. “Tell me,” he said, “what made you so certain that you could
trust me?” He had thought for a moment that she had seen his sibyl trefoil; but
it was inside his clothes, and he doubted that she could see the tattoo on his
throat in this dim light.

“You have clear, deep eyes,” she said softly. “When you
looked at me, I saw that you have an old soul.”

He almost laughed, taking it for fatuous nonsense, until he
heard what she was really saying—paying a tribute to the ancestors he had been
taught in youth to venerate, and emulate. He had never heard it put that way
before. Instead of laughing, he smiled.

“And so I sensed that you would be an honorable man.”

It struck him as ironic that she considered it honorable to
help a total stranger crash an exclusive party. He said, “I’ve never done this
kind of thing before.” And yet he had, he suddenly realized. On Tiamat. But
this time the results of his impulsiveness would hardly change the course of a
world. Or even his life.

She bent her head, pearls whispering. “Then tell me why you
trusted me.”

“I don’t think I can.” He glanced away, suddenly reluctant
even to try putting it into words.

“Perhaps because you sensed that what I wished to do was, in
truth, honorable.”

“Perhaps,” he murmured, looking back at her. “You know, you
needn’t be here under false pretenses. I can speak to someone ....”No one had
consulted him about the guest list—assuming, he supposed, that he had more
important things on hs mind, which was true.

But she hesitated. “You’re Technician, aren’t you?”

He nodded, thinking that she seemed surprised. But then, he
hardly looked the part, the way he was dressed. Perhaps she had taken him for
some hired worker.

“Do you know Commander Gundhalinu personally?”

“Yes,” he said, not sure why he didn’t simply tell her the
truth. But then, he was, not quite sure of anything just now, except that he
was enjoying this game far too much. “Since childhood.”

“Then, no thank you. It wouldn’t be fair to compromise you
with such an old friend.”

“It will hardly—” He broke off, as he remembered what she
had been saying when they were interrupted. “Did you tell me that you were
specifically excluded from attending this party?”

“Yes,” she said, less certainly than she had said anything
since they met; as if she were regretting the confession now. She glanced away.
“At his own order, 1 expect.”

“Really?” Gundhalinu said incredulously. “Does he know you,
then?”

“No.” She looked back at him and there was sudden anger in
her eyes. “He does not. Nor does he wish to, obviously.”

Gundhalinu blinked, wondering what odd quirk of social scandal
he was inadvertently taking the blame for. He thought of his brothers, wondered
suddenly whether she had had some unpleasant dealing with them. It would be
like them to blame him for it. “Well ...” he said self-consciously, “he’s been
away, you know, for some years. He’s changed a great deal ....”He smiled
earnestly. “He used to be an insufferable little snot, I have to admit, but he’s
become almost human, actually. If there’s been some misunderstanding, he’ll
want to put it right. What was the problem—?”

She shook her head; the fall of pearls rustled with her
refusal. She looked away from him again. “It’s nothing that should concern you ...
and I don’t want to talk about it. Besides, I don’t want that to be what you
remember me by.” She smiled. a little sadly this time.

He sighed, and nodded in resignation. “Then, if you’ll
excuse me, I have to change my clothes or they’ll be evicting me instead.” He
gestured ruefully at his filthy coveralls, and toward the lighted doorway of
the suite’s bath and dressing rooms. “Stay as long as you like, until you feel
comfortable about joining the party.”

“Thank you.” Her smile widened. She put out her hand suddenly,
as he began to turn away. “Who are you—?”

He shook his head. “No names. That would spoil it. The next
time you see me, ask me again.”

Her mouth opened, and closed. Her smile turned ironic as she
acknowledged his request, realizing that he had bested her at her own game.

He went on into the next room, carrying the half-empty
goblet of liquor with him, not letting himself glance back. He locked the door
behind him. He bathed and changed into his formal clothing, completing his
transformation into a shining shadow of himself. He finished the water of life
in the sapphire goblet slowlv. savoring it, fortifying himself for the ordeal
to come. And then he left the suite hv a different door, without looking in to
see whether his mystery guest was still waiting.

He stepped out into the bright splendor of the Pemattes*
manor house, entering a slutting sea of bodies; colors swirled like oil on
water, music and the sound of voices filled his senses. He stopped moving as
the door closed behind him, trying to remain unobserved for long enough to
orient himself, waiting for the surge of adrenaline he needed to face the
crowd. He had never been naturally outgoing, and he realized by now that he
never would be, no matter how many parties he attended, or how many speeches he
made. Entering a crowded room would always be like walking head on into a
closed door.

“Commander!”

He looked up as NR Vhanu, his chief aide, materialized out
of the crowd beside him. “Vhanu,” he said, smiling in relief as he returned a
salute. Vhanu had been his liaison while this affair was being planned, and, he
trusted, knew everything about it that he did not.

“There you are, sir—” Vhanu brightened, and a certain amount
of relief showed on his own face. “I was beginning to wonder if you were all
right.”

Gundhahnu glanced at him, mildly annoyed, but could detect
only eagerness and concern in the younger man’s expression. “Worry about me
when I seem to be enjoying one of these affairs too much,” he said.

Vhanu looked at him, his incomprehension barely concealed. “But
sir, I thought you wanted this party. The honor that is being paid to your
family tonight—deservedly, of course ... that is, this is probably the social
and political event of the decade. I’ve never seen such a gathering anywhere
but at a visit by the Assembly .... Have you met with the Assembly, sir?”

“Yes, I have,” Gundhalinu said, and didn’t say anything
more. He had met with the Assembly, while he was serving on Tiamat. And they
had all but spat in his face, calling him coward, failed suicide. Just as
anyone in this room would have done, had they been there. He had believed, in
that terrible moment, that his life was over. And yet here he was, a Hero of
the Hegemony. If any of these people knew of his former disgrace, he doubted
they would ever have the nerve to refer to it now .... He took a deep breath,
as he realized that his chest ached.

He looked back at Vhanu, who was gazing out across the crowd
again, probably tallying famous faces, with a look that was at once complacent,
slightly dazzled, and completely unselfaware .... It reminded Gundhalinu of himself,
ten years ago. Like himself, Vhanu had as honorable a family history as anyone
in the room—he was the younger brother of JM Vhanu, an old school friend who
was now a respected researcher at the Rislanne. And like himself, Vhanu had
chosen a career in the Hegemonic Police—a common profession for a younger son
forced out into the world by the rigid Kharemoughi inheritance laws, which gave
family title and any wealth to the eldest child.

He had encountered Vhanu on his return—remembering him
(although he had not admitted it) only as a small, shrill, rather obnoxious
presence on the perimeter of numerous earnest discussions about datamodeling,
conduit physics, and the Meaning of Life. But the Vhanu he had found on his
return was a responsible career officer, already a Captain, capable, likable,’and
politically aware, if somewhat conservative and status-conscious. But then, Gundhalinu
had discovered to his regret that most Kharemoughis of his social rank now
struck him as conservative and status conscious At least, with everything else,
he had gained the perspective to realize that rt was he who had changed, and
not his world. He had first met Vhanu in the relatively egalitarian setting of
a Survey Meeting Hall, and they had hit it off. He had needed assistants he
could rely on, and Vhanu had quickly made himself indispensable.

“Sir, there are the Pernattes. Let me introduce you to them
first.”

He nodded, and let himself be guided with faultless grace
through the murmuring curiosity of the crowd, on into the next room.

This room was even larger than the last, with the same
severe, almost monolithic grace. The walls were of unadorned gnarlstone,
polished to a glassy sheen. Gnarlstone was another legacy of the Old Empire;
they had found its strange, fractal-patterned strata all over the planet.
Gnarlstone was dead smartmatter sediment, lithified by the volcanic heat of its
own catacylsmic failure. The most prized varieties contained lacy deposits of
calcium, from human remains. The burl-like complexity of the matrix reminded
him of the beach at Fire Lake. He looked away from it.

“Sir—” Vhanu touched his arm, catching his attention.

He turned, and saw the Pernattes progressing toward him, saw
guests stepping aside discreetly to let them pass. He recognized them both
easily: AT Pernatte had been prominent in Kharemoughi politics for as long as
he could remember; he had seen the man’s long, slightly morose face on the
threedy, and occasionally at parties before he had left Kharemough—though only
from a distance. Pernatte had aged imperceptibly in the sixteen realtime years
that Gundhalinu had been away from Kharemough—just as Pernatte had seemed never
to age at all before, or his wife either. Their marriage had combined two of
the wealthiest and most influential Technician lineages on the planet.