The Snow Queen (10 page)

“Unofficially, Geia Jerusha?”
The Queen’s voice changed.

Jerusha looked
up at Arienrhod’s face, open and compelling, the face of a real woman and not
the mask of a queen.

She could
almost trust that face ... she could almost believe that there was a human
being behind the ritual and deceit who could be reached ...
almost
. Jerusha glanced back at Starbuck
standing at the Queen’s side, her henchman, her lover.

Jerusha
sighed. “I have no unofficial opinion, Your Majesty. I represent the Hegemony.”

Starbuck
said something in the unknown language; she translated the crudeness of the
insult from his tone.

The Queen
laughed: high, incongruously innocent laughter. She gestured. “Well, then,
you’re dismissed, Inspector. If I want to listen to a canned recitation of
loyalty, I’ll import a coppok. At least their plumage is more imaginative.” The
Elder Wayaways appeared, bowing, to lead them out of her presence.

Jerusha
stood in the palace courtyard at last, staring fixedly at the patrol craft
A
starburst of exploded cracks rayed out from the slagged
impact point on the ruined windshield.
So
it’s come to this?
“I’m sure there must be a lot of heavy remarks I could
make about this.” Her hand jerked out at the vandalism, dropped away to the
door latch instead. “But I’m goddamned if I’m going to put on a show here.” She
slid into the bobbing seat as Gundhalinu got in on the driver’s side.
“Besides—” she pulled down the door, “all I can think of to say is that I’m
tired, and I feel like I’ve been spat on. Sometimes I wonder if we’re really in
charge of anything on this world.” She dug into her pocket for the pack of
iestas, tapped a couple into her palm. She put them into her mouth and bit down
on the leathery-tough pods, felt the sour tang begin to ease her nerves.
“Finally . Want some?” She held out the pack.

Gundhalinu
sat rigidly behind the controls, staring out through the wild tendrils of
destruction. He had been silent through their journey back, crossed the Hall of
the Winds as though he were crossing an empty street. He began to punch in the
ignition code, and didn’t answer.

She put the
pack away. “Are you capable of driving, Sergeant, or shall I take the
controls?” The sudden goad of officiousness in her voice made him flinch.

“Yes,
Inspector! I’m capable.” He nodded, still looking straight ahead. She watched
more words struggle in his throat; he swallowed hard, like an angry child. The
craft began to nose slowly back and around, edging toward the city.

“What did
Starbuck say just before the Queen sent us away?” She kept the tone impersonal.
She could recognize some of the Kharemoughis’ ideo graphic writing—the
operating instructions on most of their exported equipment—but she had never
bothered to learn spoken Sandhi. The force used the speech of the place where
they were stationed as a linguistic common ground.

Gundhalinu cleared
his throat, swallowed again. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, the bastard said ...
“If you’re what the Hegemony sends to represent itself, it must be short on
balls these days.”“

“Is that
all?” Jerusha made a sound that was almost a laugh. “Hell, that’s a compliment
... I’m surprised the Queen thought it was funny. Wonder if she really
understood. Or maybe she understood that it only reflected on us.”

“Besides,”
Gundhalinu mumbled viciously, “she’s got his.”

She did
laugh this time. “Yeah. And welcome to them. So Star buck is from Kharemough.”

Another
nod.

“What did
he say to you?”

He shook
his head.

“There’s
nothing you could possibly say that I haven’t heard by now,

BZ.”

“I know,
Inspector.” He looked back at her finally, away again with his freckles reddening.
“That is, I can’t tell you. It wouldn’t mean anything, unless you’d been raised
on Kharemough. A matter of Honor.”

“I see.”
She had heard him speak of Honor before, heard the capital H, the peculiar
emphasis.

“I—thank
you for taking my part against Starbuck. I could not have responded on my own
to his insults without further losing face.” The ceremony of the words and the
sudden gratitude in his voice caught her by surprise.

She looked
out at the nobility and servants gaping back at them through the shattered
windshield as they drifted past the mansions of the upper city. “There’s no
honor lost in being insulted by a man who never knew the meaning of the word.”

“Thank
you.” He swerved upward to avoid a child floating golden hoops in their path.
“But I brought it on myself; I know that. And I caused trouble for you, and
embarrassment to the force. If you want to dismiss me as your assistant, I’ll
understand.”

She leaned
back in the padded concavity of the seat, flexed the hand that Starbuck had
bruised. “Maybe it would be just as well if you didn’t go with me to pay any
more calls on the Queen, BZ. Not because I really disapprove of what you did.
Simply because Star buck has a weapon he can use against you now; and that will
only make it hard on you, and harder on me by association, and harder to keep
them from dragging the Hedge’s good name in the mud. Other than that—frankly, I
like you, BZ, and I’d be damned disappointed if you were that eager to get away
from me.”
Though you
probably wouldn’t be the first
.

A feeble
smile of relief stirred on his face. “No, ma’am. I’m content . more than
content. As for staying behind when you visit the Queen—that’s just cream.” The
smile spread, infectious.

She nodded.
“If I could get away with sending you instead of going myself, don’t think I
wouldn’t do it.” She grinned; felt it pull down again. She unfastened her heavy
cloak and shrugged it off, re moved her helmet, looking at the gold-painted
eggshell curve. “Somebody ought to hang that on a tree. Gods, I’m fed up with
this! I’d give anything to be doing an honest job, somewhere where they want a
real police force and not a laughingstock.”

Gundhalinu
glanced back, not smiling now. “Why don’t you get a transfer?”

“Do you
have any idea how long it takes to get a transfer?” She shook her head, resting
the helmet across her knees as she loosened the high collar of her uniform
jacket. She sighed. “Besides, I’ve tried. No luck. They ‘need me here.”“ The
bitterness in her voice burned like acid.

“Why don’t
you quit?”

“Why don’t
you shut up?”

Gundhalinu
looked back at the controls dutifully. They were in the Maze now, moving more
slowly along the congested street. Evening stained the sky beyond the storm
walls already. Jerusha watched the tatterdemalion alleyways, the garish hells
along the street front, pass by like a mockery of her own dreams and
ambitions.. And would she really give anything to be doing a better job? Would
she take the risk of losing the rank she knew LiouxSked had given to her simply
to make her a respectable offering to the Queen? She pulled an auburn-black
curl over her left ear. After all, in another five years it would all change
anyway. The Hegemony would be leaving Tiamat, and it would send her somewhere
better-
anywhere
was better. Patience,
patience was all she needed. The gods knew it was hard enough for a woman to
survive in a career as a Blue at all, even now—let alone rise to a position of
any authority.

She glanced
down another alley as they passed its entrance. This one was predominantly blue-violet—painted
walls, lights, banners: Indigo Alley ... She’d been sent to Tiamat in the first
place, she was almost sure, because she was a woman; and at first the idea had
appealed to her. But it had soured soon enough. She was a Blue because she liked
the job, and the job wasn’t getting done ...

Half-glimpsed
movement set off an alarm in her unconscious. “BZ, back up! Hit the flasher, I
saw something down that alley.” She clapped on her helmet, jerking the strap
under her chin as she hit the door open.

“Follow me
down.” She was out, running, as the patrol craft jounced to a stop at the dim
alley entrance. Cooking smells hung heavy in the air; the narrow cul-de-sac was
lined with hole-in the-wall eateries, and dinnertime empty. The few bodies who
were out in it seemed to melt into the walls at the sight of a red light and a
dusty-blue uniform. Halfway, it had been just halfway ... She slowed, reaching
for the light button on her helmet, angling toward the black crevices that
pitted the three-story makeshift building face on her left. She switched on her
headlamps; it showed her nothing in the first one but piled metal drums,
nothing in the next. She was aware of Gundhalinu’s footsteps coming after her
down the pavement .
voices
.

Her lamp
flooded the next break in the wall, deeper than the others. It pinned three
figures—no, four—five—one squatting over a prostrate victim, something alive
with its own light in his hand. “Freeze!” Her stunner was in her hands and
pointing.

“Blues!” A
confusion of movement, like insects dazzled in the light; one movement that
struck her wrong.

She fired,
saw a weapon fly free as the man went down. “I said freeze! Get up, you with
the blade; switch it off and throw it out here. Now!” She felt Gundhalinu stop
beside her, stunner out, all her own attention focusing on the fourth man as he
obeyed her order. The light-pencil slid across the pavement and struck her
boot. “Now flat on your bellies, scum, and spread-eagle. BZ, pull their teeth.
I’ll cover you.”

Gundhalinu
went forward quickly; she watched while he crouched down by one and then
another and checked them for weapons. While she waited, her gaze wandered to
their victim lying helpless to one side; she frowned, moved closer to look down
at his face. “Uh oh ...” She caught a blurred image of youth and red hair in
the harsh light; saw the terror whitening his eyes and heard the raw noise of
his crippled breathing. She dropped to her knees beside him. Gundhalinu was
searching the last of the slavers. “BZ, find the key for the cuffs they put on
this boy. He took a bad jolt, I think he needs some antifreeze.” She snapped
open the aid kit at her belt, removed a pre filled syringe of stimulant. “I
don’t know if you can see my face, boy, but picture a big smile. It’s going to
be all right.” Smiling, she pulled open the boy’s shirt and injected the
medication directly into the muscles of his chest. He gave a small grunt of
pain or protest. She lifted his head, let it rest on her knees as Gundhalinu
moved in with jingling keys to take the handcuffs off him. The boy’s hands
dropped limply at his sides.

“I know
where I can put these to good use.” Gundhalinu grinned, holding up the cuffs.

She nodded.
“Good. Do it.” She unhooked her own binders and passed them across to him. “Here
you go. Equal treatment under the law.” Gundhalinu got up again. She watched
him handcuff the three mobile slavers. A tremor ran through the boy’s body;
glancing down, she saw him begin to gulp air with desperate relief. The lids
drooped closed over his wild, sea-colored eyes. She smoothed the wet tendrils
of red hair back from his face. “Better radio in, BZ; we’ll never get this
crowd into the back seat. I think our young friend is coming out of it all
right.”

Gundhalinu
bobbed his head. “Right, Inspector.” The slaver he was straddling raised his
face and then spat. “A woman! A fucking woman Blue. How the hell do you like
that! Busted by a woman.” Gundhalinu nudged him ungently with a boot; he
grunted.

Jerusha
leaned back against the wall, propping her stunner on her knee. “And don’t you
ever forget it, you son of a bitch. Maybe we can’t get at the heart of what’s
rotten in this city, but we can sure as hell cut off a few fingers.”

Gundhalinu
stepped out into the alley and started back to the patrol craft If anyone else
out there wondered what had happened, they weren’t stopping to ask. She was
certain that anyone with any real interest knew already. The boy made a
tentative sound that was half a moan, and his hands came up onto his chest. He
opened his eyes, squinted them shut again against the glare of her lamp. “Think
you’re ready to sit up?”

He nodded,
put his hands out again to push as she shifted him back against the wall. Blood
oozed from his nose and a scrape along his chin; his face and his shirt were
smeared with oily stains. He fumbled among the strings of gaudy broken beads
hanging around his neck. “Hell. Oh, hell ... I jus’ bought these!” His eyes
were glassy looking.

“Never mind
the packaging, as long as the goods are in tac—” She broke off as she saw the
tarnished medal of honor swinging among the beads. “Where did you get that?”
She heard the unthinking demand in her voice.

His fist
closed over it protectively. “It belongs to me!”

“Nobody’s
saying it doesn’t-Hold it!” Movement caught the corner of her eye; her gun came
up. The slaver nearest the alley entrance swayed, halfway to his feet with his
hands locked behind him. “Flatten, creep; or you’ll do it the hard way, like
the boy did.” He flopped onto his stomach, glaring obscenities at her.

“He ...”
the boy began, and pressed a hand against his mouth. “He was gonna—cut me. They
were gonna sell me! They said they I’d ...” He shivered; she watched him
struggle to control it.