The Snow Queen tsq-1 Read online

  “Moon, what are you—?”

  Her attendants closed around him, catching his arms, holding him back from her. “What’s the matter with you, boy? You dare to approach the Queen?”

  But she lifted her hand, signaling them to let him go. “It’s all right. I remind him of someone else, that’s all… Isn’t that right, Sparks Dawntreader Summer?”

  They all looked at her, but none of them could match his own disbelief. She was Moon, she was Moon… but not Moon, too. He shook his head. Not Moon. The Queen… Then this was the Snow Queen, the Queen of Winter, who stood before him. Embarrassed, half-frightened, he dropped to his knees before her.

  She reached down, took his hand, and drew him to his feet. “That isn’t necessary.” He raised his head, found her studying his face with an intensity that made him blush and look away. “How rare to find a Summer with any respect. Who is it that I reminded you of so much that you saw her instead?” Even the voice was the same; and yet something in it mocked him.

  “My — cousin, Your Majesty. My cousin Moon.” He swallowed. “H-how did you know who I am?” She laughed. “If you were a Winter, you wouldn’t ask that. Nothing in this city escapes my attention. For instance, I’ve heard about your unusual talent as a musician. In fact, I’ve come here today just to meet you. To ask you to come to the palace and play for me.”

  “Me?” Sparks rubbed his eyes, suddenly not sure whether he was awake. “But, nobody even listens to my music—” He felt the day’s few coins rattle in his half-empty pocket.

  “The right people listen.” Fate’s voice reached him from behind. “Didn’t I tell you they would?”

  The Queen’s gaze followed as he glanced back. “Well, mask maker. How is your work proceeding? Have you begun the Summer Queen’s mask yet?”

  “Your Majesty.” Fate bowed her head solemnly. “My work has been going better than usual, thanks to Sparks . But it isn’t time yet for the Summer Queen.” She smiled. “Winter still reigns. Take care of my musician. I’m going to miss him.”

  “The best care imaginable,” the Queen said softly.

  Sparks moved to the stoop, picked up his flute and slipped it into the pouch at his belt. Then, impulsively, he took Fate’s hands in his own, leaned across the trays to kiss her cheek. “I’ll come and see you.”

  “I know you will.” She nodded. “Now, don’t keep your future waiting.”

  He stood up, turned back toward the Queen, blinking as reality and illusion blurred his vision. Her attendants closed around him like the petals of an alien flower, and she took him away.

  9

  “I’m going to ask him for a ride. I can’t wait here any longer. Too much time has passed already.” Moon stood at the window of her grandmother’s cottage, looking out through the rippled glass toward town. Her mother sat at the heavy wooden table where her grandmother was cleaning fish; Moon kept her back to them, ashamed at needing that crutch to support her resolution. “That trader won’t be back again for months. Think of how long it’s been since Sparks sent for me.” And she had been too late, by a month, coming home; the trader who had brought her the message had already gone on his way again. Her hands whitened on the wooden window ledge, among the shells she and Sparks had gathered on the beach together when they were children. There would not be another ship coming to these remote islands from Carbuncle for too long; the closest place where she could hope to find one was at Shotover Bay , on the edge of Winter, and that was too long a journey by sea for her to make alone.

  But in the fields above the village now a stranger worked to repair a ship that flew, like the ship she had seen in one of her trances; not a Winter, but an actual off worlder the first one who had ever set foot on Neith, a man with skin the color of brass and strange, hooded eyes. His flying ship had made a forced landing, she had watched it come out of the sky while she stood among the villagers’ eager questions this morning. She had been relieved and a little proud to tell them from her own knowledge what the thing was, and that it was nothing to be afraid of.

  And the off worlder had looked relieved, too, that the villagers had known enough about technology not to panic. Listening to him speak, Moon had realized that he was just as uneasy about his presence among them as they were. They had all gone away at his brusque urging, leaving him to work in peace, hoping that if they ignored him he would disappear again.

  And she had to act now, before he did disappear. He must be on his way to Carbuncle; all the off worlders were from there. If he would only take her, too…

  “But Moon, you’re a sibyl now,” her mother said.

  Angry with half-guilt, she turned back to them. “I won’t be abandoning my duty! Sibyls are needed everywhere.”

  “Not in Carbuncle.” Her mother’s voice strained. “It’s not your faith I’m questioning, Moon, it’s your safety. You’re the Sea’s daughter now. I know I can’t forbid you to lead your own life. But they don’t want sibyls in Carbuncle. If they learned what you were—”

  “I know.” She bit her lip, remembering Danaquil Lu. “I know that. I’ll keep my trefoil hidden while I’m there.” She picked it up on its chain, cupping it in her hands. “Just until I find him.”

  “It’s wrong for him to ask you to go.” Her mother stood up, walking restlessly around the table. “He must know that he’s putting you in danger. He wouldn’t ask that if he was thinking of you. Wait for him to come to you, wait for him to grow up and stop thinking only of himself.”

  Moon shook her head. “Mother, it’s Sparks we’re talking about! He wouldn’t say that he can’t come home unless he’s in trouble. He wouldn’t ask me to come unless he needs me.” And I’ve already betrayed him once. She looked out the window again. “I know him.” She picked up a shell. I love him.

  Her mother came to stand beside her; she sensed the hesitation that kept even her own mother a little apart from her now, when they stood together. “Yes, you do.” Her mother glanced back at Gran, who still sat at the table with concentration fixed on her scaling. “You know him better than I do. You know him better than I know you.” Her mother touched her shoulder, turned her until they faced each other; she saw a brief instant of awe and sorrow in her mother’s gaze. “My daughter is a sibyl. Child of my heart and body, sometimes I feel as though I don’t really know you at all.”

  “Mama—” Moon bent her head, pressed her cheek against her mother’s callused hand. “Don’t say that.”

  Her mother smiled, as though an unspoken question had been answered.

  Moon straightened again, took her mother’s hand carefully and lowered it in her own. “I know I’ve only just come home. And I wanted so much to have this time with you.” Her hands squeezed tight; she looked down. “But at least I have to talk to the off worlder

  “I know.” Her mother nodded, still smiling. She picked up the slicker that lay at the foot of Moon’s cot and handed it to her. “At least I know the Lady goes with you now, even if I can’t.”

  Moon pulled the slicker on over her head and went out of the house. She followed the stony track to the terraced village fields, half running with the fear that she would see the off worlder ship rise into the drizzling gray sky before she reached it. And as she climbed the parapet onto the terrace where the flying ship sat, a high whine filled the sodden air around her, the unearthly sound of a power unit engaging.

  “Wait!” She began to run, seeing the handful of curious children who lurked at the field’s perimeter point at her and wave, thinking she waved at them. But the man in the flying ship stuck his head out the door opening to look at her, too, and the whining died.

  He stepped out of the craft and straightened up. He wore the clothing of an islander, but it was made from a material she had never seen before. She slowed as she realized that he was not about to leave without her. He put his hands on his hips, glaring down at her as she approached; she saw suddenly how very tall he was, that she barely reached his shoulder. “All right, what’s the crisis, missy?” />
  She stopped, reduced by the tone of his voice to another childish nuisance in a mucky field on a rocky, godforsaken island. “I — I thought you were taking off.”

  “I will be, just as soon as I get my tools aboard. Why do you ask?”

  “That soon.” Moon looked down at her slicker, tightening her resolution. If it had to be now, it had to be. “I’d like to ask you a favor before you go.”

  He wasn’t looking at her; he slid a compartment shut beneath the window curve at the craft’s front and rapped on it with a hand. “If you want an explanation about how the magic ship flies, I’m afraid I just haven’t got the time. I’m late for an appointment.”

  “I know how they fly, my cousin told me.” Her own irritation chewed the words. “I just want you to take me to Carbuncle.”

  He did look up this time, in mild astonishment. She forced the smile that said she had every right to ask. Several responses almost got past his lips, before he stooped to pick up his tool kit. “Sorry. I’m not going to Carbuncle.”

  “But—” She took a step, putting herself between him and the door opening as he started toward it. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to Shotover Bay , if it’s any business of yours. Now if you’ll just—”

  “That’s all right. That’s fine, in fact. Will you take me there instead?”

  He pushed back his black, reed-straight hair, leaving a muddy track through it; he was beardless, but a black mustache draped his downturned mouth. “Just why in the names of a thousand gods should I do that?”

  “Well…” She almost frowned at his lack of generosity. “I’d be glad to do anything you ask, to repay you.” She hesitated, as his expression changed for the worse. “I… guess I’ve made a mistake, haven’t I?”

  He laughed unexpectedly. “That’s all right, missy.” He thrust the tool kit past her into the space behind the seats. “But you shouldn’t be so ready to run off with the first stranger you see. You might just wind up in a worse situation than the one you think you’re in.”

  “Oh—” Moon felt her cheeks burning in the cold air. She put a hand up, covering her face. “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant! Here in the islands, when someone wants to go somewhere, and you’re going, you just — take them…” Her voice disappeared. “I’m sorry.” She started away, stumbling over a rut, suddenly feeling like precisely the foolish child she had seen in his eyes.

  “Well, wait a minute.” The sand of annoyance was still in his voice, but its sting wasn’t as sharp. “Why do you want to go there?”

  She turned back again, trying to remember the trefoil hidden beneath her slicker, and that she had a right to a sibyl’s dignity. “I want to find a ship at Shotover Bay to take me to Carbuncle. It’s very important to me.”

  “It must be, to make a Summer willing to get into a flying machine with an oflvvorlder.”

  Moon’s mouth tightened. “Just because we don’t use off world technology, that doesn’t mean we turn pale at the sight of it.”

  He laughed again, appreciatively, as though he enjoyed being paid in kind. “All right, then. If all you want is a ride, missy, you’ve got it.”

  “Moon.” She put out her hand. “Moon Dawntreader Summer.”

  “Ngenet ran Abase Miroe.” He took her hand and shook it, not clasping wrists as she was used to; said, as an afterthought, “Last name first. Climb aboard and strap in.”

  She climbed in resolutely on the far side, looking no further than the present moment, and fumbled with the safety harness. The interior of this craft was different from the one she had seen in her trance; she thought that it looked simpler. She held tight to the straps, and its false familiarity. Ngenet ran Ahase Miroe got in behind the controls and sealed the doors; the whine began to build in the space around them, muted this time, no louder than the rush of blood in her ears.

  There was no sensation of movement when they lifted from the field, but as she saw Neith and her village fall away below she felt a sourceless wrench of pain, as though something inside her had been pulled apart. She pressed her hands against her chest, feeling the trefoil safely beneath her clothes, and sang a silent prayer.

  The hovercraft banked sharply, heading out over the open sea.

  10

  Jerusha PalaThion stared out at the endless mirroring blue seeded with green island hummocks. She pictured it flowing past beneath the patrol craft like waters under the earth, pictured herself caught in an endless loop of time, freed from the suffocating futility of her duty… She blinked her eyes back into focus, glanced over at Gundhalinu where he sat reading behind the autopilot-locked controls. “How much longer till we get to Shotover Bay , BZ?”

  He glanced up, down at the chronometer on the panel. “Still a couple of hours, Inspector.”

  She sighed, and shifted her feet again.

  “You sure you don’t want to read one of my books, Inspector?” He held up one of the battered Old Empire fantasies that he spent half his off-duty time wallowing in. It was in Tiamatan; she read the title: Tales of the Future Past.

  “No thanks. Being bored is more interesting.” She flicked an iesta pod discreetly into the waste container. “How can an honest technocrat like you stand to read that crap, BZ? I’m surprised it doesn’t cause brain damage.”

  He looked indignant. “These are based on solid archaeological data and analysis of sibyl Transfers. They’re—” he grinned, the vacant bliss crept back into his eyes—”the next best thing to being there.”

  “Carbuncle’s the next best thing to being there; and if that’s any sample, good riddance to the good old days.”

  He made a disgusted noise. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to get away from when I read. The real Carbuncle was—”

  “Whatever it was, was probably just as bad. And furthermore, nobody gave a good goddamn about changing things then, any more than they do now.” She settled back in her seat, frowning out at the blue water. “Sometimes I feel like a bottle thrown into the sea, carried endlessly on the tide, never reaching a shore. The message I carry, the meaning that I try to give my own life, is never realized . because no one is ever interested.”

  Gundhalinu put his book down, said softly, “Commander really knows how to try your sainted ancestors, doesn’t he?”

  She looked back at him.

  “I could hear every word both of you said yesterday, clear out in the ward room.” He grimaced. “You have more nerve than I have, Inspector.”

  “Maybe just a shorter fuse, after all these years.” She pulled absently at the seal of her heavy coat. “Not that it made any difference.” They were still on their way to Shotover Bay on the edge of Summer, as near to the antipodes of LiouxSked’s universe as he could arrange on short notice. “A quarter around the planet in a patrol craft after a ‘possible’ smuggler report!”

  “ ‘While the real criminals deal openly in Carbuncle and laugh in our faces.’ ” Gundhalinu quoted the end of it, from yesterday, with a sorrowful smile. “Yes, ma’am, it stinks.” His hands tightened over the wheel. “But if we really can knock down somebody running embargoed goods to the locals… We’ve gotten a lot of heat about that lately.”

  “From the Queen.” Jerusha’s mouth twitched, remembering the royal display of hypocrisy that she had endured during her most recent official visit.

  “I can’t understand that, Inspector.” He shook his head. “I thought she wanted all the high technology she could get her hands on for Tiamat; she’s always talking up technological independence. She wouldn’t care whether it was illegal. Hell, I expect shed prefer it that way.”

  “She doesn’t care about Tiamat or technology or anything else, except in relation to how they affect her own position. And some of the contraband goods have been getting in her way lately.”

  “Hard to imagine how.” Gundhalinu changed position carefully behind the controls.

  “Not all the customers of the trade are harmless cranks.” She had read reports on smuggling in t
he Winter outback with interest and more than a little sympathy: The few independent smugglers’ ships that managed to penetrate the Hegemony’s planetary surveillance net could make a small fortune on a cargo of information tapes and tech manuals, power cells and hard-to-come-by components. There were always wealthy Winter nobles with an obsession about what made things shine and hidden labs on their island estates; self-styled mad scientists trying to crack the secrets of the atom and the universe. There were others privately stockpiling technology against the coming off worlder departure, too; planning to set up their own little fiefdoms, and never realizing that the Hegemony had its way of making sure they didn’t. There were even a few off worlders who had gone native living out here in this wilderness of water, and not all of them liked the restrictions the Hedge put on their adopted home.

  “Somebody’s been harassing Starbuck and the Hounds when they go mer hunting, and I gather they’ve been having too much success. The mer population must be pretty well depleted by now; it must be cutting into the Queen’s profits… and her measure of control over us. The interference involves some sophisticated jamming devices and comm gear, and there’s only one place that it could be coming from.”

  “Hmm. So if we arrest any smugglers, we might get a lead on who’s doing the harassing?” He shifted restlessly again.

  “Maybe. I’m not holding my breath. This whole trip is a waste of energy, as far as I can see.” And that’s just what LiouxSked intended it to be. “Frankly, I hope we don’t find anything. Does it shock you, BZ?” She grinned briefly at his expression. “You know, I hate to admit it, but sometimes I have trouble convincing myself these tech runners are doing anything wrong. Or that anybody who objects to cutting one species’ life short so that another species can stretch out its own abnormally is in the wrong, either. Sometimes I think that everything that disgusts me about Carbuncle is tied to the water of life. That the city draws rottenness and corruption because its survival depends on a corrupt act.”