The Snow Queen Part 22

She went back to the bed, looked again at the rumpled covers; picked up the brush lying on a stool at bedside, fingered the strands of long, fair hair. She put it down again. She stood silently, suddenly in her mind seeing a small, solitary, curly-haired child, in threadbare underpants and sandals, who crouched to watch silvery wogs flit in a dying pool. The sunlight poured over her like hot honey, suffocating all sound, and the stone-studded, blistered moraine of the dry riverbed stretched away forever...

Jerusha took back her helmet and her bag from the bed, and went quickly down the stairs.

"Jerusha?" Miroe straightened away from the low planked table near the fire, frowning his lack of comprehension. "I thought you werea""

"You didn't tell me you had a" other guests." The word took on meanings she hadn't intended. "I won't stay."

His face changed, like the face of a man who had just been caught in a terrible oversight. Her own face seemed to have froZen to death.

He said quietly, "Aren't you ever off duty?"

"Your morals are no all a" concern of mine, even on duty."

"What?" Another expression entirely. "You mean-Is that what you thought?" His relief burst out in deep laughter. "I thought you were looking for smugglers!"

Her mouth opened.

"Jerusha." He picked his way across the cluttered room to her. "Ye G.o.ds, I didn't mean it like that. It isn't what you think; she's only a friend. Not a romance. She's young enough to be my daughter. She's out on a boat right now."

Jerusha looked away, down, "I didn't want to a" intrude."

He cleared his throat. "I'm not a plastic effigy, G.o.ds knowa"" He picked up a flabby, faded cus.h.i.+on, put it down.

"I didn't expect you were." She knew she was saying it badly.

"I ... you said once that I wasn't a stupid man. But in all this time, all the visits you've made here, I never realized ..." his hand rose to touch her in a way he had never touched her, "... that you wanted something more."

"I didn't want you to." Didn't want to admit it, even to myself. She tried to move, tried to step away from his hand, tried, tried-trembling like a wild bird.

He took his hand away. "Is there someone else? In the city, back on your world, anothera""

"No," her face burning. "Never."

"Never?" He held a long breath. "Never? ... No one has ever touched you like thisa"" along the nape of her neck, her earlobe, the line of her jaw "a"or like thisa"" tracing the seal of her tunic down over her breast "a"or done thisa"" slowly surrounding her with his arms, tightening her against him until she felt the lines of his body melt into hers, and his mouth was on her mouth like nectar.

Murmuring, "Yes ... now ..." as his kiss released her. She found his lips again, demanding.

"Beg your pardon, sir!"

Jerusha gasped, breaking his hold in reflex; saw the ancient cook with back turned to them in the doorway.

"What is it?" Miroe's voice was frayed around the edges.

"Midday, sir. Midday meal is ready ... but it'll keep until you are, sir." Jerusha heard the knowing smile as the cook shuffled back into the pantry.

Miroe sighed heavily, his face trying to smile and frown but only managing to look aggrieved. He reached for her hand, but she slipped it through his fingers before they closed. He looked at her, she saw his surprise.

"You asked the question eloquently." Her own smile wavered with the static of her emotions. "But you should have asked it another time, Miroe." She shook her head, pressing her hands to her lips for a moment. "It's too close to the end for me now ... or not close enough."

"I understand." He nodded, suddenly noncommital; as though the moment that had just been between them, the moment she had waited so long for, meant nothing to him.

Disappointment and sudden shame pinched her chest. Is that all it would have meant to you? "I'd better be getting back to the city." So you can tell your Winter doxies how you almost had the Commander of Police for lunch.

"You don't have to go. We can a" pretend it didn't happen."

"Maybe you can. But I can't pretend, any more. Reality is too loud." She pulled on her coat, began a crooked course to the door.

"Jerusha. Will you be all right?" The concern caught at her.

She stopped, turned back, under control. "Yes. Even a day outside Carbuncle is like a transfusion. Maybe ... will I see you again, at the Festival a" before the final departure?" She hated herself for asking when he would not.

"No, I don't think so. I think this is one Festival I want to miss. And I'm not leaving Tiamat; this is my home."

"Of course." She felt an artificial smile starting again, like a muscle cramp. "Well, maybe I'll a" call, before I go." Go to pieces, go to h.e.l.l...

"I'll walk you out." "Don't bother." She shook her head, settled her helmet on, pulling the strap down under her chin. "No need." She opened the dark, iron hinged door and went out, putting it between them as quickly as she could.

She was halfway down the hill when she heard him calling her name. She looked back to see him come running down the slope after her. She stopped, her hands making awkward fists inside her gloves. "Yes?"

"There's a storm coming."

"No there isn't. I checked the weather bulletin before I left Carbuncle."

"The h.e.l.l with the forecasts; if those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds would get off their simulators and look up at the skya"" He swept a hand from horizon to zenith. "It'll be here by daybreak tomorrow."

She looked up, seeing nothing but scattered clouds, a pallid double sundog haloing the eclipsing Twins. "Don't worry. I'll be home by dark."

"It's not you I'm worried about." His eyes were still on the northward horizon.

"Oh." She felt her face lose all expression.

"The girl who's staying here, she's up the coast in a small boat.

She's not due back before late tomorrow." He faced her grimly. "I've fished her out of the sea half-frozen once already. I might not be so lucky again. I'll never reach her in time, unlessa""

She nodded. "All right, Miroe. Let's go find her."

He hesitated. "I a" don't know how to ask you for this kind of favor; I have no right to ask you. Buta""

"It's all right. It's my duty to help."

"No. I'm trying to ask you to be a" off duty, when you do this. To-forget that you ever met whoever you meet." He smiled, or grimaced. "You see. I trust you far too much, too." He began to rub his arms; she realized he had come after her without a coat.

And she remembered his unease at her arrival, and understood it, at last. "She isn't a ma.s.s murderer or anything?"

He laughed. "Far from it."

"Then I've got a terrible memory. Come on, let's go before you freeze. You can fill me in on the conspiracy charges on the way."

They went on down the hill, into the wind's teeth. Jerusha took them up in the patroller, heading north along the sere ribbon of the coast. "All right. I guess I can let myself put the parts together now. You did have something to do with that tech runner they zapped out here a fortnight or so ago. Your guest is a smuggler." She slid back with a kind of relief into familiar patterns, familiar habits, their old uncomplicated relations.h.i.+p.

"Half-right."

"Half?" She glanced at him. "Then explain."

"You remember the a" circ.u.mstances of our first meeting."

"Yes," with a sudden image of Gundhalinu's face, full of righteous indignation. "He really had you nailed."

"Your sergeant." She felt him smile, and then remember. "I'm sorry about a" what happened. For your sake."

"At least it was quick." And that's all the mercy we can hope for in this life. "The girl a" ?" with a growing prescience.

"Is the Summer girl who broke your arm; the one who went off world with the smugglers."

"She's back? How?"

"They brought her back with them."

Jerusha felt the patrol craft buck and swoop in a strong downdraft, reset the controls. "Which means she's an illegal returnee." And maybe a whole lot more. "Where's she been in the meantime?"

"Kharemough."

She grunted. "Wouldn't you know. Tell me, Miroe a" are you sure her being taken off world was an accident?"

His brows tightened. "One hundred percent. What do you mean?"

"Hasn't it ever struck you that Moon Dawntreader Summer bears a remarkable resemblance to the Snow Queen?"

"No." Utter blankness. "I haven't even seen the Snow Queen in years."

"What would you say if I told you the Queen knew who she was a" was furious over her disappearance? If I told you all my troubles started because I let her get away. What would you say if I told you that Moon Dawntreader is the Queen's clone?"

He stared. "You have proof?"

"No, I don't have proof! But I know it; I know Arienrhod had plans for that girl ... plans for making her other self the Summer Queen. And if she finds out that Moon is backa""

"They aren't the same person. They can't be." Miroe frowned out at the sea. "You've forgotten something about Moon."

"What?"

"She's a sibyl."

Jerusha started, as memory doubled the words. "So she is... But that still doesn't mean I'm wrong. Or that she isn't a danger to the Hegemony."

"What are you going to do about it?" Miroe twisted in his seat until he was facing her.

She shook her head. "I don't know. I won't know until I get there."

"Get those hides stripped off, there. Hurry up ... a white one coming ... shelter by dark ..." Dogs barking.

Moon felt the words ebb and flow, like the cold tongue of the tide licking her feet, her ankles, her legs. She opened her eyes, to the memory that she did not want to open her eyes and see-But all she saw was the sky, meaningless cloud flotsam drifting. She did not move, afraid to.

"This one's dead."

"... is luck, praise the Mother! ... never found so many hides ..."

"Praise the Snow Queen." Laughter.

"This one's not." A face blotted out the sky, shrouded in white. It knelt, dragged her up to sitting.

"Black." Moon heard her own voice mumbling like a madwoman's. "In black. Where ... where?" She reached out; dug her fingers into the thick white shoulder for support, as she saw the body that lay beside her own a" "Silky!"

The figure in white shoved her away, getting to its feet. "One of those mer-loving bleeders, I guess. Must've killed the Hound. Hounds left the job half done on her." The voice was male, young.

"Silky ... Silky ..." Moon stretched to reach the ends of inert tentacles.

"Finish it." A harsh, timeworn voice.

Moon struggled back onto her side as the youth squatted, picking up a rock. She clawed at the fastening of her suit, jerked it open halfway down her stomach as the rock arced over her head. "Sibyl!" She threw the word up like a s.h.i.+eld.

The boy dropped the stone from twitching fingers, pushed back his hood. She saw his face lose its inhumanity, saw his confusion follow the track of dried blood upward to her wounded throat.

"Sibyl ..." She pointed at the tattoo, praying that it was clear enough, and that he would understand.

"Ma!" The boy sat back on his heels, shouted over his shoulder. "Look at this!"

Other ghost-white figures materialized around her like a spirit tribunal, doubling and s.h.i.+ning in her uncertain focus.

"A sibyl, Ma!" A slight female figure danced with eagerness beside her. "We can't kill her."

"I'm not afraid of sibyls' blood!" Moon identified the crone's voice among the glaring whites as the old woman struck herself on the chest. "I'm holy. I'm going to live forever."

"Oh, the h.e.l.l you are." The girl shoved her brother aside, bending over to peer down at Moon's throat. She giggled nervously, straightening up again. "Can you talk?"

"Yes." Moon sat up, put a hand to her throat, one against her swollen face, hoa.r.s.e with trying not to swallow. She looked across Silky's sprawled body, saw beyond it more white figures using their skinning knives, mutilating the bodies of the dead mers. She swayed forward, clutching her knees, hiding from the sight of them. 7 didn't see him. I didn't. It was someone else! She moaned; her voice was the desolate mourning of a lone met song.

"Then I want her." The girl turned back to the old woman. "I want her for my zoo. She can answer any question!"

"No!" The old woman slapped at her; she ducked her head. "Sibyls are diseased, the off worlders say they're diseased. They're all deceivers. No more pets, Blodwed! You stink the place up with them already. I'm getting rid of thosea""

"You just try!" Blodwed kicked her viciously. The old woman howled and stumbled back. "You just try! You want to live forever, you old drooler, you better leave my pets alone!"

"All right, all right ..." the crone whined. "Don't talk to your mother like that, you ungrateful brat. Don't I let you have anything you want?"

"That's more like it." Blodwed put her hands on her hips, looked down at Moon's huddled grief again, grinning. "I think you're going to be just what I need."

"G.o.ds! Oh, my G.o.ds," more a curse than a prayer.