The Snow Queen

by Joan D. Vinge

  “Commander.” First Secretary Sirus acknowledged them with a nod. “When we learned that the lost officer was one of our own people, we decided that we ought to come and congratulate him ourselves on his safe return.” He looked at Gundhalinu, and at Moon; back at Gundhalinu again, as though he couldn’t believe a Kharemoughi had ever looked like that.

  “Inspector BZ Gundhalinu, sadhu.” Gundhalinu saluted again as though he had to prove it. Jerusha was suddenly glad that she had spent the last month of sleepless nights listlessly learning spoken Sandhi for this occasion. She still could not sort out the convolutions of the rank forms. “Technician of the second rank, Sadhanu, bhai, I—I thank you all for coming. This is the greatest honor, the highest moment of my life.”

  “Gundhalinu-eshkrad.” Sirus’s expression eased at the compliment, and at the reassurance that they were, at least, in the presence of a highborn. “You bring your class and family prestige, at such a young age already an inspector to be.”

  “Thank you, sadhu.” Gundhalinu’s freckles reddened. He tried to hold back a fit of thick coughing, failed; they waited with polite sympathy.

  “He has my best officer been. I’ve him sorely missed.” Jerusha took pleasure in Gundhalinu’s swift glance filled with surprise, at the tribute, at hearing it in Sandhi. Moon stood silent between them, with a private smile on her face. Jerusha noticed for the first time the tunic the girl was wearing; its colors heightened the alien ness of her pale skin and light-silvered hair. It was the traditional costume of the Winter nomads; she had seen one once displayed as a rarity in the window of an antique shop in the Maze. Who are you, girl?

  But she heard only Secretary Sirus introducing himself, holding up a palm for the Kharemoughi equivalent of a handshake. Moon went unexpectedly rigid at the sound of his name. Gundhalinu stepped forward, raising his own hand. A second of discomfort passed like an electric spark between them before their palms met: She saw that Gundhalinu’s hand would not open fully; the fingers were drawn up like claws. She saw the pink-white scars ridging his inner wrist next. Oh, gods, BZ

  Sirus went on with the introductions. Gundhalinu kept a straight face as the perfumed Speaker refused to touch his hand. Does he think it’s catching? Jerusha frowned. She knew a slashed wrist when she saw one, knew the Kharemoughis, being what they were, would recognize it, too.

  “You—must terrible hardships have suffered, lost in the wilderness after your patrolcraft crashed, Inspector Gundhalinu.” Sirus’s words were a springboard for an explanation.

  “I—I wasn’t in the wilderness lost, Secretary Sirus,” Gundhalinu said woodenly. “I was by bandits prisoner made. They treated me-badly.” He looked down under the weight of their combined gaze, pressed his wrists together. “If not for this woman here, I would never back have gotten. She saved my life.” He reached out, caught Moon’s elbow and drew her forward. “This is Moon Dawntreader Summer.” His expression as he glanced at her told her the honor she was being paid. She smiled at him, looked back at Sirus with sudden intentness.

  “A native?” the Speaker said, loud with drink. “An ignorant barbarian girl has a Kharemoughi inspector rescued? It doesn’t me amuse, Gundhalinu-eshkrad, not at all.”

  “No humor was intended.” Gundhalinu raised his head, his own voice suddenly soft and cold. Jerusha looked a warning at him, but he didn’t see it. “She’s no ignorant savage. She’s the wisest, the noblest human being in this room. She is a sibyl.” He pulled aside the collar of her tunic carefully; she lifted her chin with pride to expose a half-healed knife wound and a trefoil tattoo. Jerusha grimaced. By the Boatman, now you’ve done it!

  Caught off guard, instinctive reaction filled their watching faces; but the Speaker was too deeply in his cups for respect or even good manners. “What does that on this world mean? Put her in a robe and call her eshkrad, but that won’t her a Technician make. A sibyl on this world ...” He choked off as someone seized him from behind, muttered sharp, unintelligible words at his ear.

  But Jerusha was watching the girl, and saw her cheeks color as if she had understood every word. She stepped away from Gundhalinu, her arms stiffly at her sides, and said in stilted Sandhi, “I am only a cup that knowledge holds. It does not to knowledge matter how poor the cup is. It is the wisdom of those who drink of me that me wise makes. Fools make a sibyl foolish, wherever she is.” Jerusha flinched at the irony.

  The Kharemoughi expressions rippled with astonishment. “We meant you no offense,” Sirus said swiftly, placatingly. “Since you are a holy woman to your own people, you deserve our respect as well, sibyl.” A small, self-deprecating smile. “But where did she Sandhi learn, Commander?”

  “I taught it to her,” Gundhalinu said, before Jerusha could fill her mouth with the obvious response. Gundhalinu put his arm around Moon’s shoulders, drew her back to him, closed her in. “And with due respect to the honorable Speaker, I wish to say that if I her Gundhalinu-eshkrad made, if she my wife were, she would the honor of my entire class raise.”

  The astonishment verged on horror this time. Jerusha stared with the rest. “—appalled”—a woman’s voice from somewhere in the rear among them.

  “Gundhalinu-eshkrad,” Sirus shifted position uncomfortably, “you have a great hardship endured, we understand that ...”

  Gundhalinu faltered under the unanimity of their censure. His arms loosened, but his hands still rested on Moon’s shoulders. “Yes, sadhu,” apologetically. “But I will not her insulted hear. She saved my life.”

  “Of course.” Sirus smiled again. “But you don’t her intend to marry—” He glanced from side to side.

  “She loves another,” almost sadly. Moon turned under his hands to look at him.

  “Then you would her marry?” the Speaker said indignantly. “Have you no pride left? Are you so degenerate? To say such a thing without shame! You’re already a failed-suicide!” The word also meant coward.

  Gundhalinu sucked in a breath, coughing. “I attempted the honorable thing. It isn’t my fault if I failed!” He held out his hands.

  “It is always the fault of a truly superior man when he fails.” Another official, one Jerusha didn’t recognize. “A failed-suicide doesn’t deserve to live.”

  Gundhalinu’s battered shield of self-worth fell apart entirely; he stumbled back the few steps to the examining table, clung there as though the very words were a mortal blow. “Forgive me, sadhanu, bhai, for—for disgracing my class and my family.” He could not even look at them. “I never deserved the honor of your respect, or even your presence. But I deserve your scorn and your execration fully. I am no better than a slave, a crawling animal.” His arms trembled; Jerusha moved quickly to support him before he collapsed.

  “What’s the matter with you people!” She threw the accusation over her shoulder, heedless. “What do you want from him? Do you want him to slash his wrists again, do you want to watch his ‘honor’ dram into the sink?” She waved a hand. “One of your own people, a brave, decent officer, has gone through hell and was strong enough to survive; and all you can say to him is ‘drop dead!”“

  “You’re not one of us, Commander,” Sirus said quietly. “Gundhalinu ... understands. But you never could.”

  “Thank the gods for that.” Jerusha helped Gundhalinu up onto the table, not acknowledging their departure as the muttering officials began to leave the room. She heard the Speaker’s voice rise to the surface of sound deliberately, to call Gundhalinu by a form of address reserved for the lowest Unclassified. Gundhalinu’s mouth quivered; he swallowed convulsively.

  “Citizen Sirus!”

  Jerusha found Moon’s voice an excuse to turn away while Gundhalinu got control of himself. She saw Sirus hesitate in the doorway, and the girl’s struggle to curb her own white anger as she looked at him. It was successful; Jerusha saw the anger submerged by another more urgent emotion.

  “I—I must to you speak.”

  Sirus raised his eyebrows, glanced toward Gundhalinu. “I think that t
oo many words already have been said.”

  She shook her head with stubborn resolution, her lank, pale hair flopping. “About—about someone else.”

  “Do you as a sibyl ask?”

  Another shake. “I ask as your niece.” His limbs stopped trying to move him through the doorway. The rear guard of the departing Kharemoughis looked back, tittered scandal as they went on out into the hallway. Jerusha blinked, felt Gundhalinu straighten up beside her. “About your son. From the last Festival.”

  Sirus’s eyes looked briefly into the past. He nodded once, and with another glance their way beckoned Moon into the other room. She went after him, looking back.

  Gundhalinu’s eyes followed her, as though to lose sight of her now would be more than he could endure; but his face was hopeless.

  “BZ ... Inspector Gundhalinu.” Jerusha demanded his attention with a sharpened voice.

  “Ma’am.” His head swung back obediently, but his attention did not come with it.

  Jerusha hesitated, suddenly unsure of what she was about to do. “BZ ... you aren’t really in love with that girl, are you?”

  His throat worked. “And what if I am, Commander?” too evenly. “It may be a scandal, but it’s not a crime.”

  “BZ, don’t you realize who she is?”

  He glanced up, and she read his guilt. He didn’t answer.

  “She’s the girl we lost to the tech runners five years ago,” telling him what he already knew, hoping that would be enough. “She’s proscribed, an illegal returnee. She’ll have to be deported.”

  “Commander, I can’t—” His good hand tightened on the padded tabletop.

  “If you’re really in love with her, BZ, then it doesn’t have to be a problem.” She smiled encouragingly. “Marry her. Take her off as your wife.”

  “I can’t.” He picked up a spine-sharp probe from the tray at the end of the table, tested it against his palm.

  She said hastily, “You’re not going to let those hypocritical snobs—”

  “It’s not that.” He stiffened. “And you will not speak of the Hegemony’s leaders in such a manner. They had every right to criticize me.”

  Jerusha opened her mouth, closed it again.

  “Moon wouldn’t marry me.” He put the probe down again. “She’s—uh, pledged,” as though that unofficial bond was still improper in some part of his mind. “To her cousin ... First Secretary Sirus’s son.” He looked toward the doorway again, incredulously. “She’s in love with him. She’s been trying all this time to get to Carbuncle to look for him.” He spoke the facts flatly, like someone reading a report. “His name is Sparks Dawntreader.”

  “Sparks?”

  “You know him?”

  “Yes. And so do you. We saved him from slavers once, the day of your last visit to the palace. After that Arienrhod picked him up; he’s been one of her favorites at court ever since. And it’s turned him rotten.”

  Gundhalinu frowned. “Then it’s possible ...”

  “What is?”

  “Moon thinks he’s become Starbuck.”

  “Starbuck!” Jerusha put a hand to her forehead. “Yes—yes, it does fit. Thank you, gods! And thank you.” She turned back to him grimly. “I’ve been trying to learn who Starbuck is, so I can nail him for murder, and illegally killing mers.”

  “Murder?” Gundhalinu started.

  She nodded. “He murdered a dillyp, or let his Hounds do it. And I thought he’d murdered Moon too ... but it’s still enough. This time I’ll sting Arienrhod where it hurts!” So you've gone rottener than I ever dreamed, Dawntreader. She saw in her mind a battered boy with a smashed flute, a killer in black against the image of a corpse-strewn shore. Never in my wildest nightmares did I imagine you’d fall so high.

  “I—promised Moon that we’d find him ... help him, if we could. The Change will get him anyway, if we can’t.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that. So Moon still wants him back, even after what she must have seen him do on that beach?” Jerusha was struck by the sudden disconcerting realization that Sparks had belonged to both Arienrhod and Moon ... and still did. Arienrhod’s clone.

  “How did you know about that?” Gundhalinu said.

  “Never mind.” Jerusha reached out, touched a conical metal device attached to sensor pads.

  “She says she still loves him. You don’t simply stop, after years .... She only wants to know whether he feels the same way about her.” A glimmer of lost hope surfaced.

  Is that really all she wants? “I can’t let her loose in the city, BZ.” Jerusha shook her head, fingering brass on her collar. “I’m sorry. But I can’t risk it.”

  “I don’t understand. She’s not going to contaminate anyone. I’ll stay with her until we find him.”

  “And then what?”

  He lifted his hands, dropped them again. “I don’t know ... Commander, the Change is almost here, and when it happens it’s not going to matter whether she’s been off world or not. The Summers hate the whole idea. She was only on Kharemough a few weeks. What harm can she do?”

  “You’re asking me what harm a sibyl can do here, when she knows the reason for her existence?” almost angrily. “If we manage to pick up Starbuck, she can share a cell with him. But otherwise, believe me, it’s better for all concerned if she never sees him again, and he never sees her.”

  “I can’t believe I’m hearing that from you.” The words were heavy with sullen accusation.

  “And I can’t believe I’m hearing you say she’s no threat, Gundhalinu! What the hell’s gotten into you?” Don’t push me, BZ. Be a good Blue, and accept it; don’t make me hurt you now.

  “I care about her. It seems to me that ought to mean something.” He began to cough, pressing his chest.

  “More than your duty to the law?”

  “She’s just one innocent Summer girl! Why the hell can’t we leave it alone?” It had the sound of a man in torment; Jerusha realized that he was his own most unforgiving inquisitor.

  “She’s not just another Summer, BZ,” she said with heavy reluctance. “Haven’t you ever noticed how much she resembles Arienrhod?” His expression said that she was out of her mind.

  “I’m serious, Gundhalinu! I have every reason to believe the Queen got herself cloned somehow. And the only reason she could possibly have for that would be that she doesn’t want Winter to end.” She told him everything, every detail of the circumstantial evidence. “So you see—Moon is a sibyl. I can’t risk letting Arienrhod get her hands on—on herself, carrying a deadly weapon like that. She’s doing all she can to hold on to her power.” And go on corrupting everything she touches on this world. “But I’m doing anything I can to make sure she doesn’t get away with it. And that includes keeping Moon out of her hands.”

  “I can’t believe that.” Gundhalinu shook his head, and she realized that he couldn’t. “Moon—Moon is like no one I ever met. She’s nothing like Arienrhod! She cares about everyone, everything—and they feel it in her. If there’s a spark of decency in a man or woman she makes it catch fire. They fall in love with her ... they can’t help it.” An inane smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

  Jerusha grimaced. “For gods’ sakes, BZ, nobody’s that wonderful.”

  “She is. Just talk to her.”

  “I’d better not even look at her, if she’s all you claim. No wonder they say ‘love is blind,”“ gently. She felt her own apologetic smile grow as healthy resentment turned his mouth into a line. “Your perspective is out of synch, BZ, that’s all. You need a good meal and a lot of sleep, and time to believe you’re back in the world you belong to.”

  “Don’t patronize me!” He hit the instrument tray, things leaped and glittered. Jerusha winced. “I know where I am, and I don’t belong here any more! I’m not fit to be a police inspector, I’m not fit to belong to the human race. All I want is to keep the one promise I’m still capable of keeping, to the one person who doesn’t give a damn what I’ve become. And now you’re t
rying to tell me she’s a monster; and that I have to keep her from the one thing she wants when it’s almost in her hands!”

  “I’m telling you it’s your duty as a police officer to protect the Hegemony! That has to come first. You can’t start bending the law to fit your personal tastes. It doesn’t work that way.” I should know.

  “Then I resign.”

  “I don’t accept your resignation. You’re in no state to offer it—and you’re too valuable to me. I need every man I’ve got until that final ship goes up.” She knew as she spoke that there was infinitely more at stake: a career, a man’s self-respect, maybe even his life. “Listen to me; please, BZ. You know I wouldn’t have told you all this unless I believed it. Arienrhod is a threat!” And a monster and a disease. “She’s a danger to the Hegemony, and that makes Moon a danger,” whatever she is. “And Starbuck is a vicious murderer, who’s killed whatever Sparks Dawntreader once was as surely as he’s killed a thousand mers. Think, Gundhalinu, think about it! You’re still a good officer—you can’t deny that you’re neglecting your duty. And you’re not doing Moon a favor to turn her over to them.” Reason began to seep back into Gundhalinu’s eyes, and a dark resolve. Stay with me, BZ.

  Moon reappeared in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder, her face pinched with frustration and disappointment. Beyond her, Sirus was leaving the outer room. Damn, not when I’ve almost won! Jerusha turned back to Gundhalinu, saw with abrupt relief that his expression had not changed. “BZ,” she whispered, “you don’t have to be the one. I’ll have her taken in by someone else. Stay here until they’ve treated you. You need rest and—”

  “I’ll do it.” He spoke as though she did not exist. He pushed bun self off of the table, stood down unsteadily, gathering himself to his duty. “They’ve already treated me, Commander. I’m fine,” absently. “I have to do this; have to do it now, before I change my mind.” His freckles stood out like stars, anemic white against the darkness of his skin.