The Summer Queen (80 page)

“You make do with what you have,” she said gently

He glanced up, down again, remembering Tiamat, remembering
World’s End, remembering the stranger things he had eaten, and would soon eat
again .... He ate another mouthful, and another, under their watchful gazes,
and smiled, slowly. “We grow or we die, don’t we? It really is very good, you
know.”

After dinner they settled into the deep cushions of the
sunken meditation room. A servo left them a drifting tray of sweets. Pandhara
lit a spicestick, inhaled and exhaled; the incense-heavy smoke curled
languorously into the air over her head. He had never seen her smoke one before
today. So many things that he did not know about her; that he would never know,
now ....

“Those are very unhealthy, you know,” Aspundh chided her
mildly.

She looked at BZ; he saw something that was more than a simple
question and less than grief in her gaze. “Tonight I feel reckless, KR.”

Aspundh glanced from face to face, and said no more about
it. Instead he turned to Gundhalinu. “So the time has finally come. The way is
open to Tiamat once again. And you are going back, as Chief Justice. It has all
worked out just as you said it would, years ago.”

Gundhalinu almost nodded; but his neck resisted the lying motion.
“No,” he said softly. “Not exactly as I planned, KR.”

Aspundh said nothing, waited.

The tray of sweets drifted up to Gundhalinu’s side; he
picked up a small, ornate cake. He held the cake in his open palm, studying it;
put it back and pushed the tray away. “You’ll probably think I’m mad, but ... I
don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.” He put his hand over his eyes, unable
to go on looking at them for a moment. “Suddenly I’m full of doubts—about why I’m
really going, what I can possibly achieve there ... about whether there’s even
any point to all of this. I’ve been living with this obsession for years; and
now, suddenly, I find myself wondering why. Was it only because for so long I
had nothing else to hold on to? Since I’ve come back to Kharemough ....”He
shook his head, looking up at them again. “Gods help me ...”he whispered, “I
don’t want to leave.”

Aspundh frowned; but there was sympathy, not censure in the
older man’s eyes. He glanced at Pandhara. “How much of this have you discussed
with PHN?”

“Enough,” he said, his own eyes meeting hers.

“And how do you feel about what he has told you, PHN?”

Pandhara moved restlessly among the cushions. “I want him to
be happy ....” She jerked her head, almost angrily. “I want him to stay—” She looked
at BZ again, and the look made him ache. “Thou have been such a solitary “Wn, BZ
.... All these years, thou’ve worked on this dream, and not until now have I
understood even the smallest part of why ... only that thou were not at peace,
and could not be, I thought, until thou saw it through.”

Gundhalinu shut his eyes, pressing his face with his hands
again. “Damn it all! After I survived World’s End, I knew I could face anything
that came between me and what I had to do—” His hands dropped away, lay motionless
in his lap. “Anything but this.” Anything but happiness.

“Then we must let Moon know that the fleet will be arriving
within months ... but you will not be coming with it,” Aspundh said.

Gundhalinu’s head rose; he felt his face flush. “Moon told
me,” he murmured, “after she came back to Tiamat ... that even she could have
been happy staying on Kharemough. But she/e/r something, that forced her to go
back. The sibyl mind spoke to her somehow, made her know what she had to do. I’ve
never felt anything like that. If I could just be half as certain as she was
that I was doing the right thing—”

“Perhaps you haven’t heard ‘voices’ because you haven’t required
them. Your own desire, your own belief in what was right, have carried you this
far on youi own,” Aspundh said. “Perhaps she was never as certain as you were—or
even as you believe she was. Have you seen or heard anything, in your dealings
with the Police High Command or the Central Coordinating Committee, to make you
believe your opinions of them are unjustified?”

Gundhalinu’s eyes darkened. “No.”

“And do you still feel at all responsible for what will
happen to Tiamat ... ?’

“Yes.” He looked down. “Yes, damn it! You know I do.”

“And what about Moon Dawntreader?”

BZ looked toward Pandhara, helplessly, knowing that she
could read in his eyes what his own pain and confusion would not let him say.

“Have you considered,” Aspundh asked, almost reluctantly, “what
may happen to the Summer Queen when the Hegemony returns to Tiamat?”

Gundhalinu felt a cold fist close around his heart. “Gods
... No, they wouldn’t order her sacrificed! It isn’t the time ... Summer has
scarcely begun there. It would be a total violation of the Change rituals.”

“This return of the Hegemony is already a total violation of
the pattern, on Tiamat. I’m not saying it would happen. I don’t know that. But
what if it did—?”

Gundhalinu sagged back into the elusive support of the cool,
satin-surfaced cushions. Moon Dawntreader was not the ruler that the Hegemony
would be expecting to find when it got to Tiamat. If she defied them ... most
of the old Winter power structure was still alive, and would be more than
willing to sacrifice Summer to the sea. He looked toward Pandhara again, his
throat aching with the sight of her; realizing he had known all along that he
could not stay, could never be free of his memories, or the truth.

“BZ,” she said, and her own voice was stronger now, more certain.
“When thou told me all the things I did not know about thy past, all that thou
had endured and overcome ... and how because of Tiamat thou had become all the
things thou are ... I felt as though the spirit of this place, and thy
ancestors, had touched my soul through thee. That whatever it was thou felt
thou must do, it was right, and thou would achieve it. I saw it in thy eyes
then, even when thou embraced me. I see it now ... thou are only a ghost. Thou
are not truly here, and will never be, while all the answers to what thou are
still wait for thee on Tiamat. Go back to Moon ... and the gods go with thee.”
She reached out, only to touch his fingers wjth her own.

He closed his hand over hers; her hand felt more
substantial, more real, than his own flesh. He looked back at Aspundh almost
reluctantly. Moon. He must do it now, one final Transfer, one final message, to
let her know ....

Aspundh nodded, understanding, and rose slowly, stiffly to
his feet.

BZ rose with him. “I’ll show KR to his rooms, Dhara—”

She let go of him, remaining where she was; used to this
arcane ritual of her husband and his guest, accepting his explanation that they
had confidential policy matters to discuss. “Thank you for coming, KR.”

Aspundh nodded again. “I’m glad I could be here.” They both
looked at Gundhalinu.

He hesitated. “Will thou wait here for me, Dhara? I ... need
to discuss something with thee.”

She nodded. Surprise drove the brooding sorrow out of her
gaze for a moment as she watched them go out of the room.

“BZ ...” Aspundh said, settling himself in a comfortable
chair as Gundhalinu closed the door behind them.

Gundhalinu glanced back at him, unsure of what was in the
older man’s voice, just as he was unsure of his own expression. He crossed the
room, sat down in the chair’s mate. “Yes,” he said softly, “I’m ready.”

“To go into Transfer?” Aspundh asked. “Or to go back to Tiamat.”

“Both,” he said, looking down.

“Then let me tell you something that may help to ease the
pain of this transition.”

Gundhalinu looked up again in silent curiosity.

“There is some evidence,” Aspundh murmured, holding his
gaze, “that the situation you find yourself in now may have been set up
intentionally, to fill you with exactly the kind of doubts you are feeling now.”

Gundhalinu stared at him. “What are you saying? Are you saying
that Pandhara—”

“No ... your wife is completely innocent in this matter. But
it appears certain factions made sure that the two of you would meet in the
first place, and that you would continue to encounter each other; that
eventually you would find yourself in your present position—too comfortable,
too happy ... even falling in love,” Aspundh said gently. “Doubting yourself,
doubting your choices. There are those people who would rather not see you
return to Tiamat.”

“Do you mean the Brotherhood?” Gundhalinu asked, remembering
his brothers’ death with sudden appalling vividness.

Aspundh nodded. “Yes. But not the Brotherhood alone .... You
are at the center of too much power now for anything to be that simple. Your
position may protect you from direct attack, but it also makes you a lodestone
for subtler forms of betrayal.”

“‘Ask the right questions’ ...” Gundhalinu muttered, “‘and
trust no one.’”

“Exactly.” Aspundh’s smile was full of sorrow. “Not even
yourself.”

Pandhara was still sitting where he had left her when he returned
to the meditation room ... sitting perfectly still, with the lights dimmed and
her eyes closed, meditating on an adhani, as he had shown her how to do. She
had picked up the skill very quickly. He had been pleased when she had told him
that it helped her focus while she worked.

She opened her eyes as she heard him come back into the
room; looked up at him expectantly, folding her hands in her lap.

He dropped down to sit cross-legged facing her, exhausted by
the unnatural stress of the Transfer. He looked away for a long moment, with no
idea of how to begin. At last he made himself look at her again. “Dhara ... you
told me once that one of the reasons you wanted my family’s heritage was for
your children. That you wanted to have children ... ?”

Her eyes widened slightly, and she bent her head. “Yes.”

“I ... Gods—” he whispered, and his hands fisted. He looked
up at the diamond-within-diamond pattern of the ceiling dome, an infinity of
blue-on-blue. “I don’t know how to explain this so that it doesn’t ... When I
go, where I’m going, with what I’ll have to do when I get there ... thou know I
won’t be coming back. And ... the gods know, if it goes far enough, there may
be trouble ... enough trouble, focused on me, that it might have repercussions
even here, for thee and the estates. I don’t want what happened to thee ever to
happen again.” She watched him, her eyes dark, saying nothing. “I’ve given it a
lot of thought these past two days—” pushing on before he lost his nerve. “How
to secure thy position, and protect the estates from any possible attempt at
confiscation .... Dhara, would thou consider having a child by me?” The final
words were barely audible.

“I—” Her hand rose to her breast.

He looked down, said hastily, “I would set up the necessary
sperm account before I leave. I’ll see to everything. The procedure could be
done at thy convenience, that way, quite easily .... With an heir, a child who
belongs genetically to both of us, there can be no question to whom the
Gundhalinu family holdings belong .... And I would know ... would know that I
have honored my ancestors in the only way that holds any real meaning in my
heart, anymore.”

She was silent for a long moment. “Thou have thought this
out very carefully, very considerately, as always, I see.” She waited for him
to look up again, finally. “It would give me great joy to bear thy child, BZ ...
I could not imagine a more beautiful thing.”

He began to smile, with relief and release.

“On one condition. Will thou give me one thing, in return?”

Surprise stirred in him. “Whatever thou want, that I can
give thee.”

She looked steadily, deeply, into his eyes. “Give me
tonight, BZ. Give me a child with thy own body.”

He stared, feeling himself flush again, feeling his
heartbeat quicken. “I ... Are thou at the ... I mean ...”

“I will arrange it.” She whispered the same words he had spoken
so many times to her. “I will not do it any other way. A child is a human
being; to create one is not as simple as mixing sperm and egg in a bottle. Thou
will give this child life—but thou may never see it again, for as long as
either one of thee live. Thou can’t do that; it isn’t fair. Let our child’s
life begin as an act of love ... so that when I tell our son or daughter of it,
I can tell the truth. Be a husband to me ...” She leaned toward him, her taut
body clearly outlined beneath the fluid cloth of her gown, and put her hand on
him. He got an erection, so quickly that the pain was like a shock. “Just for tonight.”

He felt his sudden understanding of the truth she had spoken
drown in a wave of need, as the rush of heat rose up through the aching
emptiness inside him from his aching loins. “Yes—” he whispered. He found her
waiting mouth, soft and wet and warm, drank her kisses like a man dying of
thirst. His hands slid down her body, feeling her warmth, her womanliness, the
pressure of her breasts against him as his arms circled her back and began to unseal
her gown.

He slid her gown down her body, revealing her shoulders, the
exquisite curve of her back, her breasts. Her deft fingers unfastened his
jacket, opened his tunic, undid his pants—were down inside them, doing things
to him that made novas of his nerve endings. He gasped in ecstasy and anguish
as he felt himself slide over the edge of control. Unable to stop it, he pushed
her back and down, found his way inside her, spent himself, in an act of desperation,
hearing her feeble cry of protest drown inside his own cry of release.

He lay on top of her, his heart pounding, dazed and
humiliated, until he could find the strength to push himself up off of her
again, so that their bodies were no longer joined together, or even touching. “Gods
...” he mumbled, “oh gods ... I’m sorry. It’s been so long—”

She reached up, drawing him back down beside her. She
stroked his hair, touched his lips like a kiss. “Hush, I know—I should have
realized ....”