Gundhalinu stared at him. “But grisha is … is—” Remembering a beat too late that KR Aspundh’s father had been a Nontechnician.
‘So ‘common’…?” Pandhara reached across the wide table to pat his hand, reaching to his rescue. “Of course it is. ‘Common’ only means that everyone eats it.”
He looked back at his dish, shaking his head. “My nurse … told me when I was a boy that Unclassifieds ate grisha made out of rat meat and spoiled vegetables.”
“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 man, 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 felt 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 your 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 with 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 som
ething 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.…”
“Did I hurt thee?” he whispered, and remembered his brothers. He shut his eyes, sick. “Oh, Dhara, thou must think I—”
“It’s all right— it is.… Hush.…” She drew him into her arms, rubbing his back, holding him close. “We have all night.”
He breathed in the scent of her, absorbed the sensation of her skin against his own. And then he raised his head, finding her lips, kissing her again, deeply, lingeringly, as if tonight meant forever. He used his mouth, his hands, the touch of his weary, contented body pressed close against hers, to give her all the pleasure he had meant to give her, to make love to her as he had wanted to make love to her, to give her the release he had taken from her so unexpectedly.… Until at last he knew from her sighs and her cries and the way she clung to him that she had found her own joy at last.
He held her for a while, until her breathing slowed, falling into the rhythm of his own. And then her knowing, skillful hands began to do their work again, caressing him, guiding him with a sensual skill that he had never known before, exploring him more eagerly as he began to respond.… But there was no urgency this time; the pleasure of their intimacies went on and on, rising to meet in a peak of dizzying sensation, falling away again into warm dreaming valleys, and finally into sleep.
The sun rose, the light of the new day shone in on two sleeping forms, husband and wife twined together into the illusion of one; and in their separate dreams, for a time, a separate peace.
TIAMAT: Carbuncle
Moon Dawntreader sat gazing out across the circle of gathered sibyls, entrepreneurs, and landholders, holding the expressionless mask of the Queen firmly on her face. She had had to face these people, or others like them, virtually every day for over eighteen y
ears, listening as she did now to the cacophony of their voices as they settled into their seats. Once most of the voices had been full of enthusiasm and new ideas. The arguments had been petty and annoying then, and the sense of hope and progress has always outweighed them.
The arguments had gotten louder and the complaints more bitter in the years since she had turned her back on the pursuit of progress, to devote her time and resources to the mers. Because she could not tell anyone the whole truth, most of the Council members reacted as though she had gone slightly mad … until sometimes, facing them like this, even she had wondered if maybe they were right.
BZ— She closed her eyes, silently reciting the name like an unwilling prayer. Remembering his voice speaking to her, as it had done again yesterday; calling her away into the shimmering sea of light/sound/absence that had been their secret meeting place for nearly four years now—calling her away for what would be the last time before he arrived on Tiamat in the flesh, with the Hegemony. Their fragile, fleeting contact, his encouragement and reassurance, her memories, had given her solace and strength through these increasingly difficult bureaucratic ordeals, the endless testing of her resolve and her faith. And now, at last, he was returning—
And what did she want … hope for … expect, when they met again…? She let her mind fall inward, the cacophony fading around her as she tried to picture his face, imagine how it had changed, in what ways; wondering whether she would even recognize him when they met again. She had known him for such a short time, so long ago. It was hard after so long to remember his face, even though—or perhaps because—it had been so unlike the faces that had surrounded her all her life, and through all the years since then. His voice, his smile, the gentleness of his touch … did they belong to a real man or only the dream of a shadow? When his return had been impossible, or even years away, his memory had been a refuge from the burdens and disappointments of her life, her secret fantasies of remembered passion had been a release and an escape. But now that he was about to become a part of her reality, suddenly she found that she had no refuge left.…
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