Danaquil Lu smiled and nodded, putting an arm around his daughter, holding her close before she slipped away. “It’s all the difference in the world,” he said softly.
“Where’s Gran Selen? Didn’t she come with you?” Merovy asked. “If she wants to see Tammis and Ariele, she’d better come here!” She glanced at Tammis, who stood waiting, smiling at her, a half-forgotten box in his grip. Her face brightened, becoming beautiful under his gaze, as she saw his expression.
“Well, you know that woman, she has a mind of her own.” Clearwater made a face, his mustache bristling. “Says she doesn’t want to see so much change in one place. Couldn’t convince her to come. Let her spend time with Moon, if she can get it; she gets little enough of that.…”
“So, how are the wind-driven paddles doing for your seahair crop, Uncle?” Danaquil Lu said, pointedly changing the subject.
“Good, good…” Clearwater raised his head, peering into the interior. “You know, Jakard Homestead was telling me something about a new sort of jury-rig that might get my pumps working again. Not that I believed him, but since I’m here, I suppose I might as well take a look at it … just so I can tell him he’s wrong.”
Danaquil Lu led him away, past a laughing cluster of Winter youths. Tor saw Ariele Dawntreader in the middle of them, the unmistakable fog of her milk-white hair drifting around her. She was, as usual, the supremely confident center of their attention, and not simply because she was the heir-apparent of the Summer Queen. At the moment she was letting Elco Teel Graymount wrap himself around her like a squin, her head falling back in melodramatic rapture.
Tor looked away, unimpressed, back to where Ariele’s brother Tammis was helping Merovy with her work. Merovy spent most of her time here, because her parents expected it; Tammis spent most of his time here because of her. But Ariele and her friends were here simply because it was the most stimulating spot in their limited world—just as it was for the other gawking kids who made up nearly half the crowd in the Shop. Tor smiled, “Merovy—” she called. Merovy glanced up. “I need something to mop up a spill.”
Merovy disappeared into the back of the store. Tammis nodded in Tor’s direction, and went back to his work. He was the quiet twin, the thoughtful one, nothing like his sister. He seemed much happier here with Merovy, who was even quieter, than he ever seemed to be when he was surrounded by a crowd, as Ariele was just now.
Tammis looked up again, at the sound of someone’s laughter, and Ariele’s voice called out something to him, unintelligible but rude. He frowned briefly as his sister and her friends moved toward him, and past him. Elco Teel looked back as they passed, and blew him a kiss. “Pass that along to Merovy!” he called and rolled his eyes. Tammis stared after them as they went out into the alley. Tor realized that he was still watching Elco Teel, and not his sister, and the expression on his face was not anger; was not one she would have expected to see at all.
She looked away again, pushing curiosity out of her mind as Merovy came back with an armful of clean rags.
“Where is it?” Merovy asked, looking away into the forest of equipment displays.
Tor took the rags from her. “I’ll take care of it.” She carried them back through the store to the place where Fate waited, still talking to Capella Goodventure. Tor grimaced, feeling vaguely guilty for having left her trapped there so long. The spilled juice had spread in a lurid stain across the floor. She sighed, wishing she had asked for a bucket too.
She opened her mouth to call out to Fate, to let her know rescue was at hand. Just then Capella Goodventure picked up an electric drill lying in a puddle on the table, gesturing animatedly, her face filled with disgust. “… another example of something that no one needs—” She reached for the power switch.
“Don’t—!” Tor shouted.
Capella Goodventure turned, frowning, her hand still moving.
Tor leaped forward, reaching Fate first, dragging her aside. They collapsed in an awkward heap, as the Goodventure elder pressed the drill’s switch.
Capella Goodventure’s scream was high and shrill as the current from the drill grounded itself through her body into the pool of juice. The drill flew from her spasming hands, and she collapsed on the floor.
“Tor!” Fate gasped, as Tor rolled off her. “What happened, what is it—?”
“It’s Capella.” Tor crawled forward, squatted down beside the Summer woman’s motionless body. Capella Goodventure’s gray-blue eyes were wide open, staring up at her in unblinking accusation; her face was empty, her lips were rapidly turning blue. “Oh, gods.” Tor swore, feeling for a heartbeat, for a sign of breathing; not finding them. She pushed her fingers into Capella’s mouth, pulling her slack tongue forward; lifted her chin to clear the air passage. She took a deep breath, put her own mouth over the other woman’s, forcing air down into her lungs, counting; sat up, leaning on Capella’s chest, pressing, pressing, over her heart. Another breath into the other woman’s lungs, more heartbeats, another breath. Dimly she was aware of Fate behind her, still calling, “Tor—? Tor—?” She was aware of the crowd gathering, of Danaquil Lu keeping them back from her. Another breath, more heartbeats, repeating it again and again, but still no response, still the empty eyes stared at her, unforgiving. “Come on—” she whispered. Another breath, more heartbeats. She shook Capella Goodventure’s unresponding body, leaned on its heart again, again, forced air in through her open lips. “Come on, you self-righteous old bitch, you can’t be this easy to kill! Come on, damn you, ruin my day!”
She forced another breath into the other woman’s lungs. A tremor ran through the body under her; it took a sudden, shuddering breath on its own, and the eyelids flickered. Someone was back, behind the staring eyes, looking up at her in amazement, and then in sudden outrage.
Capella Goodventure took in another hoarse, painful breath. “What … what are you doing? Get away from me—!” Her hands rose, flailing.
Tor sat back, away from her. Other hands were around the Goodventure elder now: Danaquil Lu, some of her own kin.
“I … touched that thing—” Capella Goodventure’s eyes focused more clearly, filling with horror, as someone lifted her head.
“She saved you,” someone, a Summer, said. “The Winter saved you. You stopped breathing.” The man who had spoken turned to Tor incredulously. “I think she was dead. How did you do that—?”
She shrugged. “It’s just rescue training. I learned it a long time ago. The offworlders taught it to people who worked on the docks. In case somebody had an accident like that…” She saw the Summers look at each other with sudden speculation. She looked back at Capella Goodventure, seeing no gratitude in the other woman’s eyes. “It doesn’t always work, though.”
Capella Goodventure frowned, meeting her stare.
“Do you think … could someone show us this?” another Summer murmured, avoiding Capella’s eyes.
“It was one of the Winters’ ‘improvements’ that nearly killed me.” Capella snapped, gesturing at the fallen tool.
“It was ignorance that nearly killed you,” Tor said flatly. “There was nothing wrong with the drill. You turned the thing on when it was wet. If you knew anything at all about electricity you never would have done that. And you wouldn’t owe your life to a Winter.”
Capella pulled free of the hands that held her, sitting upright on her own. “I am grateful to you, for that,” she said, with obvious difficulty. “It would not be fair to deny you the thanks you deserve. But if we used the tools we have always made, ourselves, and kept the ways that have always been our salvation, such a thing would never have to happen. And there would have been no need for your ‘offworlder training’ to save me.” She looked away again, her cold gaze glancing off the faces of her kin.
Tor looked back at the cluster of Summers, seeing their guilt and embarrassment. “I’ve seen heart-and-breathing work on drowning victims, too.”
The Summers looked back at her, then. Every one of them.
&nb
sp; TIAMAT: Carbuncle
“Oh-oh-oh! Oh no! You win!” Ariele Dawntreader pressed one hand over her mouth, smothering her ecstatic giggles as she watched the sapphire stone clatter and sing down through the labyrinth of the gaming sculpture and out one of its random openings into her brother’s lap. “You have to give Elco heart-and-breathing!” She looked around the circle of their laughing, pointing friends at Elco Teel Graymount, as he flopped back onto the carpet with a bloodcurdling scream and began to twitch. He lay still, eyes staring, arms spread, while the young Winters around him snickered and poked each other, making noises in Tammis’s direction.
Ariele could see her brother blushing, Merovy’s eyes on him as she sat beside him, clutching his hand. Even though she was some kind of cousin of Elco Teel’s, Merovy always looked like a fish out of water when Tammis brought her to one of these parties. Ariele couldn’t wait to see how she reacted when the red stone landed in her lap, or the blue one.
“Come on, Tammis,” Ariele called, unable to resist goading him. “Capella Goodventure’s dying. You saw Tor Starhiker give her heart-and-breathing. Show us how it’s done!”
He pushed up from his place beside Merovy with a peculiar grimace and stepped over legs and bodies until he reached Elco’s side. He kneeled down, looking into Elco Teel’s wide-eyed stare and expectant grin. He hesitated for a long moment, with reluctance showing in his own eyes. Ariele wondered what he was afraid of—or if it was only the memory of seeing the real thing that stopped him. He leaned over, lowering his face toward Elco Teel’s.
“No, no!” voices sang out. “Not like that—!” “Do it—!”
He sat back, looking at them over his shoulder. “That was how she did it!” he said, annoyed, but knowing that wasn’t what they wanted. Finally he swung a leg over Elco Teel and sat down on top of his stomach. The act of leaning forward forced his own hips back until their bodies seemed to be joined like two lovers. Whistles and clapping crescendoed around them as he put his hands against the sides of Elco Teel’s face, and his mouth over Elco’s mouth.
He tried to end it quickly, raising his head; the cheering and laughter turned to mockery and protest. Ariele pushed to her feet. “Get off, Tammis, I’ll show you how it’s done!” She started around the circle; stopped as Elco Teel’s arms abruptly trapped Tammis in an embrace and dragged him back down for a deep, wet kiss. She watched Tammis’s body quiver, but to her surprise he didn’t fight it the way she’d thought he would. She glanced at Merovy, saw the other girl staring at the two boys, her face confused and half-frowning.
“Well, Tirady, look at this—I believe Elco Teel’s found true love.”
Ariele glanced up, startled, to see Kirard Set Wayaways and his wife Tirady Graymount standing together in the wide entrance to the room, staring at them. Elco Teel let go of Tammis, who half fell off of him in his desperate attempt to get away. But Elco Teel’s father only laughed, shaking his head as he came down the three steps into the room, casually unsealing his shining evening jacket. “Don’t stop on my account, children. You know I find it delightful and amusing, when you play with my game set behind my back. And I’m sure it was all quite innocent really.…”
“We were just practicing heart-and-breathing, Da.” Elco Teel rolled onto his side, propping his chin on his hand with a smirk that attempted to imitate his father’s languid smile. “Like at the Shop today … I was being the victim.”
Kirard Set raised his eyebrows. “You were being Capella Goodventure? Ye gods—or should I say, Lady’s Tits—now that’s depraved. Can you imagine, Tirady—having our child turn into a sanctimonious religious fanatic?”
Tirady Graymount murmured something Ariele couldn’t make out, that sounded bored and annoyed. She moved past him without looking at any of them, toward the angular cabinet that Ariele knew held their substantial supply of alcoholic drinks. Elco Teel said they also had a dwindling hoard of more exotic drugs left from before the Change; but even he didn’t know where those were hidden. Tirady’s movements were not too steady, and Ariele suspected she had had a lot to drink already. Maybe they’d argued, and that was why they’d come back so unexpectedly early.
Ariele looked back at Kirard Set, glanced at Elco Teel, trying to guess whether the father was really angry or only amused; whether the son was actually as unconcerned about being caught in the act as he seemed to be. Their family fascinated her. They were so different from her own that they sometimes seemed more alien than the mers.
But Kirard Set’s attention was on his wife. He moved toward her as she pulled a bottle of local wine out of the cabinet, and tried to take it from her. She looked at him, with eyes as cold and pale as glacier ice, and he let his hand drop, shrugging. She moved away from him again, heading toward a doorway at the far end of the room. She stopped as she passed a mirror, and peered into it as if she were seeing into another dimension. She put a pale, slender hand up to her face, pressing her cheek, pulling the skin taut until the deepening line along her mouth disappeared. She took her hand away, frowned, and left the room without a backward glance, as if they had all ceased to exist.
“Your mother is feeling old, tonight,” Kirard Set murmured. He took out another bottle, and removed the stopper. He drank deeply, straight from its mouth, and came back across the room toward the now-silent circle of friends. He held the bottle out. Several of the wide-eyed witnesses shook their heads, picking themselves up from where they sat in various stages of embarrassment and awkwardness, saying that they had to go home. One by one the others followed. He made no move to stop them, and neither did Elco Teel. Merovy began to get up, and Tammis followed her.
Ariele put out her hand, still standing where she had stopped when Elco Teel’s parents arrived. Kirard Set handed her the bottle with a measuring smile; his glance traveled down her body and back up it again in a way that made her tingle with an odd pleasure—knowing that for once he had not looked at her as if he saw a child. He was a very handsome man, and he still looked young, even though she knew that he was actually very old, and like his wife, was beginning to show signs of it. She took a drink of the wine, careful not to take too much, knowing the burn of it would make her cough. She swallowed it with passable grace, and handed the bottle back to him.
“Well done.” Kirard Set smiled again, approvingly. “Ah,” he said, “you look lovely in those colors, Ariele. It takes me back to the old days, to see you standing there like that … I even remember that outfit, how she looked when she wore it. You look so very much like her, you know … more so every day. More even than your mother, because you have more of Arienrhod’s spirit.”
“Arienrhod?” Ariele said, uncertainly. She glanced down at her outfit. Among the endless possessions in the Snow Queen’s closets, she had found things that she had made over to fit her. Her mother had never touched any of those clothes, had never even looked at anything there, as far as she knew. Her mother seemed to hate the thought of it, and frowned when Ariele put them on, even though she never forbade her to wear them. Sometimes, perversely, Ariele wished that they were forbidden, so that she could wear them anyway, and defy her mother’s anger instead of her peculiar, distracted sorrow. All her Winter friends wore offworlder clothes, handed down, saved from Before … and she had fallen in love with the blazing beauty of their colors, the wonderful fineness and the exotic varieties of the materials. She had wanted clothes like that—and she had found them. But did they actually make her look like a queen? She smiled, looking up again.
“Of course,” Kirard Set said softly. “As you should, since she was your grandmother.”
“What?” Ariele said. “No, my grandmother was a Summer. She died, I never met her…”
Kirard Set’s eyes widened. “Gods,” he murmured. “You don’t know? Is it possible you really don’t know?” He looked toward Tammis, who had stopped moving and was staring at him in equal curiosity. “Have you ever seen a picture of Arienrhod?”
Ariele shook her head; Tammis shook his.
; “There was one in the bedroom on the third floor … a painting of her.”
“I remember that. I used to look at it when I was little. But that was a picture of my mother,” Ariele said. “She didn’t like it, she had the servants put it away.”
Kirard Set laughed. “It wasn’t your mother. It was her mother. Her real mother. It was Arienrhod … That’s why she didn’t like it.”
“That’s not true,” Tammis said, frowning. “Our mother’s a Summer. And Gran is a Summer too.”
Ariele waved him quiet. She sat down on the long, narrow reclining couch, pulling her feet up. “Are you making this up—?” she asked, meeting Kirard Set’s inscrutable gaze, her eyes begging him to tell her that he was not.
“Oh, no,” he said, smiling again as he moved to take a seat beside her on the couch. “It’s quite true, Ariele. Would you like to hear the whole, true story?”
She nodded eagerly, looked back at her brother. Tammis hesitated, glancing toward the door. He still wore half a frown, as if he were afraid to hear this. But he sat down again, cross-legged on the carpet beside Elco Teel, who was stretched out with his chin on his palms. Merovy, who had been pulling surreptitiously at Tammis’s hand, gave up and sat down beside him. Her habitual look of unease deepened.
Kirard Set leaned back into the sloping corner of the couch, taking another drink from the decanter. “Well, all of this began long ago, long before either of you were even a gleam in your father’s eye.…” His smile twitched. “Arienrhod had been the Snow Queen ever since the Hegemony arrived at the last Change, and the Goodventures’ Summer reign ended with a splash. She’d been Queen for nearly a century and a half, and she knew how the offworlders exploited us, manipulated us, kept us from our rightful equality in the Hegemony. She knew that when the offworlders left she’d be thrown into the sea, and Summer would drag us all back down into the darkness for a century again. So she decided to do something about it.”
Ariele nodded, almost hypnotized by the lanquid flow of his words. “What did she do?”
The Summer Queen Page 37
