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 st iffy 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-esMrad 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 too 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 hi some part of his mind. 'To her cousin ... First Secretary Sirus's son.' He looked toward the doorway again, incredulously. 'She's hi 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 yorfve 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.
