The Snow Queen (50 page)

“Then
you’re going to do what you did yesterday again—only this time tell me about
the animals.” She glared, expecting a refusal. “I think some of them are sick
too. I—I don’t know how to take care of them either.” Her gaze broke. “I want
to know how.”

Moon
nodded, swallowing the last of her stew, and got slowly to her feet. “Where did
you get all these animals?”

“Stole them
from the spaceport. Or got them from traders, or out trapping ... the elf fox
and the gray birds there, and the conics. But I don’t even know the names of
the rest.”

Moon felt
Gundhalinu’s eyes trail her with dark accusation, ignored it as she walked
toward the closest of the animals, the hardest one to face—the shivering pouch of
wrinkles that squatted on a nest of dried grass. It blubbered obscenely,
showing her a wide sucker mouth as she opened the cage door. Biting back her
disgust, she crouched before it, offered it a handful of food pellets at arm’s
length, holding very still.

Its
burbling hysteria gradually died away, and after another endless moment it
floundered forward, inch by inch, to touch her hand tentatively with its mouth.
She shuddered; it scuttled back, worked its way forward again. It took the
pellets one by one from her palm with great delicacy. She dared to stroke it
with her free hand; its brain like convolutions were smooth and cool to her
touch, like the surface of a smocked satin pillow. It settled contentedly under
her hand, making a sound like bubbles popping.

She left it
slowly, went on to the pair of lithe, pacing carnivores in the next cage. Their
ears flattened, their tusks showed white against the black-on-black patterning
of their fur. There was something feline about them, and so she began to whistle
softly, creating the overtones that had made cats come purring into her lap at
home. The long, tufted ears flicked, swiveled, tuned like radar ... the animals
came toward her almost reluctantly, drawn by the sound. She offered them her
fingers to sniff, felt a thrill of pleasure when an ebony cheek brushed her
hand in a gesture of acceptance. The cat creatures sidled along the bars,
demanding her touch with guttural cries.

She moved
on more confidently to the leather-winged reptile with a head like a pickax;
the feather-soft oblongs with no heads at all; the bird with emerald plumage
and ruby crest that lay listlessly in the bottom of its cage. She lost track of
time or any purpose beyond the need to communicate even to the smallest degree
with every creature, and earn for herself the reward of its embryonic trust ...
Until she reached the end of the circuit at last, found the little boy lying
asleep on Blodwed’s knee, and Blodwed staring up at her in silent envy.

Moon
glanced away, understanding the look in one final moment of empathy. “I—I’m
ready to begin Transfer, Blodwed; whenever you say.”

“How did
you do that?” Blodwed’s words struck her like blows. “Why do they come to you,
and not to me? They’re my pets! They’re supposed to love me!” The boy woke at
the sound of her anger, and began to cry.

“That
should be obvious,” Gundhalinu muttered sourly. “She treats animals like human
beings, and you treat human beings like animals.”

Blodwed
stood up furiously, and Gundhalinu stiffened; but no words came out of her, and
she did not bring up her white-knuckled fists to strike him.

“Blodwed
... they’re afraid of you. Because ...” Moon struggled, fitting reluctant words
to her thoughts. “Because you’re afraid of them.”

“I’m not
afraid of them!
You
were afraid of them.”

Moon shook
her head. “Not that way. I mean ... I’m not afraid to let them see I care about
them.” She twisted a braid.

Blodwed’s
mouth worked, her scowl faded. “Well, I feed them, I do everything for them!
What else am I supposed to do?”

“Learn to
be—gentle with them. Learn that ... that gentleness isn’t ... weakness.”

The little
boy clung to Blodwed’s leg, still crying. She looked down at him, put her hand
on his head hesitantly, before she followed Moon back to the cages.

Moon began
the circuit again with the brain creature, luring it into her hands, making it
the focus of her senses. “Ask me about them. Input—” She heard Blodwed’s
question and carried it down ...

“...
analysis
!”
She found herself sitting on the
floor, exhausted, with the snub-nosed elf fox cub suckling her braid. She
smoothed its thick white crest, removed the braid from its mouth and its
pinprick claws from her tunic with great care, held it out to Blodwed in both
hands. “Here,” faintly, “take him.”

Blodwed
reached out, uncertainty slowing her movements; the cub did not struggle or
protest as Moon slipped it into her waiting hands. Blodwed settled it against
her stomach, held it there almost timidly. She giggled as it worked its way in
through the opening of her parka and settled against her side. The toddler sat
at her feet reaching up after it with one hand, his thumb in his mouth.

“Did I tell
you—enough?” Moon glanced away, along the circle of bare cages, still overlaid
by the shadowy green and gold of an imported-pet shop somewhere on another
world.
So far away ... all of us so far
away from home.

“Lissop,
starls, batwing ...” Blodwed named them all. “I guess I even know what’s wrong
with those,” pointing. “I don’t have the right food.” Her face pulled down.
“But you did good,” encouraging again. She held the cub close. “Didn’t she,
Blue?”

Gundhalinu
smiled, grudgingly, and made a salute. “A noble—” He broke off.

Three pairs
of eyes looked up together at the sound of someone else entering the
passageway. The gate swung open, and a bearded, heavy-faced man entered. The
animals shrank back along the walls.

“What do
you want, Taryd Roh?” The surliness was back in Blodwed’s voice.

“The shaman
wants this fixed.” He held out a fragile-looking instrument that Moon did not
recognize. “Tell the Tech there to get started earning his keep.”

“He’s too
sick.” Blodwed stuck out her chin.

“He’s
alive,” Taryd Roh grinned, swiveling his gaze to Moon. “And this pretty little
doll you brought him would put life back in the dead. How’d you like to visit my
tent, little sibyl?” A rough hand brushed her bruised cheek, hurting her.

Moon backed
away, filled with disgust. He laughed and went on past her.

“Listen,
Turd,” Blodwed said, “you keep away from her! She really has the power—”

He sneered.
“Then what’s she doing here? You don’t believe that superstitious crap, do you,
Tech?” He set the broken instrument down in front of Gundhalinu, and a set of
tools. “Just don’t have too much fun. Because if this isn’t working by
tomorrow, I’ll make you eat it.” He flicked the tarnished insignia on
Gundhalinu’s collar; Moon saw Gundhalinu’s thin face go gray and slack.

Taryd Roh
turned away from him, strolled back across the chamber to the gate like a
killer skule moving through a fish trap.

Blodwed threw
an obscene hand-sign after his retreating back. “Gods, I hate him, that
bastard!” She winced as the elf fox pup woke inside her jacket, squirming and
scratching. “He thinks he’s the Prime Minister or something, just because he’s
Ma’s favorite. He’s been to Carbuncle, and he’s crazy too—that’s why she likes
him so much.”

Moon
watched Gundhalinu stretch out on the cot, moving like an aged cripple, and
turn his face to the wall. She said nothing.

Blodwed
pulled the wriggling cub out of her parka and thrust it back into its cage,
almost angrily. Moon felt Blodwed search the room with her eyes for something
that had disappeared; she kept her own eyes on Gundhalinu. Blodwed dragged the
babbling baby to his feet and went out the gate, leaving them to smother in
silence.

Moon made
her way through the heaviness of the air to Gundhalinu’s side, kneeled down.
“BZ?” Knowing that he did not want her to ask, knowing that she had to. She
touched his shoulder. She felt the trembling of his body even through his heavy
coat. “BZ ...” i

“Leave me
alone.” ‘

“No.”

“I’m not
one of her animals, for gods’ sakes!” j

“Neither am
I. Don’t shut me away!” Her fingers dug into his ] arm, forcing him to
acknowledge her. ij

He rolled
onto his back, lay staring up at her with bleak eyes. ‘ “And I didn’t think
things could get any worse.” I

Moon looked
down, nodded. “Then maybe they’ll start getting I better.” <

“Don’t.” He
shook his head. “Don’t tell me there’s going to be a ‘ future. Just facing
tomorrow is all I can stand.” ‘

She saw the
broken instrument that Taryd Roh had left for him I on the ground beside her
knee. “You can’t fix this?” I

“Blindfolded,”
with a broken smile. He lifted his hand. “If I had ‘ll two good hands. But I
don’t.”

“You have
three.” Moon clasped his hand like a pledge.

He brought
his other hand up, laid it clumsily over hers. “I thank you.” He took a long
breath, and sat up. “Taryd Roh ...” he swallowed. “Taryd Roh caught me re
circuiting Blodwed’s radio. After he’d finished working me over, I couldn’t
walk for two days. And gods, he enjoyed it.” He ran his hand through his hair;
Moon saw it tremble again. “I don’t know what he did while he was in the
city—but he was good at it.”

Moon
shuddered, wiped the memory of Taryd Roh’s touch from her face. “Is that—why?” She
glanced at his hands, his scarred wrists.

“Everything!
Everything was why.” He shook his head. “I’m a highborn, a Tech, a Kharemoughi!
To be treated like a slave by these savages—worse than a slave! No one with any
pride would go on living that way: without honor, without hope. So I tried to
do the only honorable thing.” He said it with perfect evenness. “But Blodwed
found me, before it was—finished.”

“She saved
you?”

“Of
course.” Moon heard hatred in it. “What’s the point in humiliating a corpse?”
He looked down at his useless hand. “A cripple, though .... I stopped eating;
until she told me shed let Taryd Roh feed me. Fifteen minutes and he could have
me eating shit.” He tried to get up, fell back onto the cot, coughing until his
eyes ran. “And then there was the storm—” He spread his hands helplessly, as
though he wanted her to know how hard he had tried to do the right thing.

Afraid that
she did understand, she only said, “And now?”

“And now
everything’s changed. I ... have to think about someone besides myself again.”
She didn’t know whether he was glad, or only resentful.

“I’m glad
you failed.” She looked down. “We’ll get out of here, BZ. I know we will.”
It isn’t finished
. Suddenly certain of
it again.

He shook
his head. “It doesn’t matter to me any more. It’s too late, I’ve been here too
long.” He lifted her chin with his fingers. “But for your sake, I’ll hope.”

“It isn’t
too late.”

“You don’t
understand.” He pulled at the seal of his uniform coat. “I’ve been here for
months, it’s all over! The Festival, the Change, the final departure ...
everyone’s gone off world by now, they’ve left me behind. Forever.” His gaunt
face twitched. ““In dreams I hear my homeland to me call; and I cannot answer
...”“

“But they
haven’t! It hasn’t happened yet.”

He gaped as
though she had struck him. He pulled her up onto the cot beside him, almost
shaking her. “Truly? How long? How long? Oh, gods, tell me it’s true!”

“It is,”
breathlessly, stumbling. “But I don’t know h-how long I mean, I’m not sure ...
a week or two, I think, until the celebrations.”

“A week?”
He let her go, slumping back against the wall. “Moon . Damn you, I don’t know
whether you’re heaven or hell: a week.” He rubbed his hand across his mouth.
“But I think you’re heaven.” He embraced her, briefly, chastely, his face
averted.

She lifted
her hands as he pulled away, clung to him with sudden gratitude. “No, don’t. A
little longer. Please, BZ; I need a little longer ... Hold me just for now.”
Until everything isn’t
drowning in ugliness.
Until I believe
in hope, and feel his arms holding me
again ...

Gundhalinu
stiffened with surprise and a strange reluctance. But his arms circled her,
almost mechanically, and pulled her to him again, sheltering her, answering
her.

So long
... remembering
Sparks
’s tender hands as though it had been
only yesterday ...
it’s been so long
.
She rested her head on his shoulder, let herself dissolve, mindless, timeless,
against the solidness of his flesh; let it give substance to the phantom of
another flesh, and strike the chains of bitter knowledge from the future. After
a time she felt Gundhalinu’s arms tighten, felt his breathing change; felt her
own heartbeat quicken unexpectedly with answering emotion.

“Wilt thou
... to me in Sandhi sometimes talk?” hesitantly.

“Yes.” She
smiled against his sleeve. “Though I—do not it well speak ...”