'Well, Commander. I hope you enjoyed the Queen's banquet.' Chief Inspector Mantagnes broke off his conversation with the sergeant, hoping nothing of the kind, as Jerusha entered the hollow quiet of headquarters from the clamoring streets. Virtually everyone on the force was out, either protecting the Prime Minister or patrolling the festivities. The two men made a desultory salute; she returned it perfunctorily. Mantagnes eyed her dress uniform enviously. She knew that he must have spent the evening brooding because he wasn't at the reception in her place, strutting in front of his fellow Kharemoughis in the position that was rightfully his.
'I don't enjoy wasting my time, when there's still so much work to be done.' She looked pointedly at the two of them; pulled off her scarlet cloak, opening her collar. 'You're relieved as acting commander, Inspector.'
'Yes, ma'am.' He saluted again, his eyes reminding her that she wouldn't be hearing that for much longer. Yes, you son of a bitch, you'll have your turn. The Chief Justice's damning, unfavorable report on her and Mantagnes's own ambitious backbiting would ensure the record of her command here was painted as black as the void. Her career would be finished with this post, her seniority and rank swept under the carpet of official censure. She would never have a chance at a command again; she would be shipped off to some godforsaken outpost on the back side of nowhere acknowledging grimly that there were worse places than Carbuncle). And there she would rot for the rest of her natural life.
Gods, I'm sick of Kharemoughi arrogance! She bunched her cape between her hands as she started toward her office. If I have to see one more damned, supercilious Technocrat face ... BZ Gundhalinu's face came suddenly into her mind, slowing her. One more face. That face she would give anything to see, right now, right here. But he had never arrived with his prisoner. She should have known — but how the hell could she know that Gundhalinu of all men would run off with the girl instead? Because it was obvious! She had put into her report that he was ill, unaccountable for his actions; and the gods knew it was probably truer than she wanted to admit.
And tonight she had seen Sparks Dawntreader, openly flaunting his sanctuary there at the banquet, drinking himself into a stupor. And Arienrhod, serenely beautiful as always, serenely unconcerned about her upcoming fate as she moved among her subjects and her supposed masters — far too unconcerned. Damn it! What's she planning?
'Damn it, what's this doing here?' She stopped, glancing away at Mantagnes, and back at the pol rob standing as immobile as a tree in front of her office. 'Why aren't you on duty?' addressing it directly. It made no response, and she realized that its power was off.
'It's malfunctioning,' Mantagnes said irritably. 'Came in here a while ago with some garbled story about its Winter lessor being mugged by the Queen's men. Probably just maudlin with lease-lapse syndrome. Needs a complete system wiping — letting ignorant natives do even partial maintenance on sophisticated hardware like that is absurd.'
'Even 'ignorant natives' would wonder, if they had to bring their brainless servomechs to the police for every loose screw.' She threw the power switch on the pol rob chest, more out of aggravation than interest, watched the light sensors brighten inside its steel and plastic skull. She glanced at its identification plate. 'Unit 'Pollux.' Who's your lessor?'
'Thank you, Commander!'
She stepped back, startled.
'Please hear me, Commander. It is urgent, and I cannot—'
'Yeah, yeah — just answer the questions.' She would never get used to Their voices.
'My lessor is one Tor Starhiker Winter, Tiamatan female, titular owner of Persipone's Hell.' It radiated impatience. 'You said she was attacked by the Queen's guard? That's no business of ours.'
'No, Commander. By off worlders By her fiance!—'
'A lover's quarrel?'
'—one Oyarzabal, a casino employee, and his companions. She called to me for help, and was stun-shot by them. I could not reach her because the door was locked. So I came here for help.'
'You know why they attacked her?' Jerusha felt her interest stir ring.
'Not clear, Commander. Perhaps she interfered with an illegal activity.'
'Who controls that casino?'
'One Thanin Jaakola, male, native of Big Blue.'
'The Source?' She felt even Mantagnes begin to listen behind her.
'Yes, Commander.'
'Repeat everything you heard them say.'
'OYARZABAL: Just the Summers, goddamn it, Perse. Not the Winters, they'll be safe; the Queen wants it this way. STAR HIKER No, you're lying. It's going to kill Winters too, the Queen wouldn't let you kill us. You're crazy, Oyar, let me go. Pollux, help me, Pollux.'
Jerusha listened her skin crawling at the nasal dirge of words, until their meaning coalesced in her mind, catalyzed by two: the Queen. 'Holy gods — I've found it! I've found it! Sergeant!' Shouting as she turned, she found him already standing at her elbow. 'Contact the dozen men closest to Persipone's — tell them to get over there immediately and seal that place off! Mantagnes—'
'What's this all about, Commander?' She couldn't decide whether he was indignant or frightened.
'It's about life and death.' She dropped her cloak on the floor, reaching to check her stunner. 'It's about Arienrhod buying her own life with the death of half this city, or I'm not the Commander of Police.' She watched his jaw fall. 'Unit Pollux — your prayers and mine have been answered.' She clapped its metallic shoulder.
'Gods, just let it be in time!'
'Please help Tor, Commander. I have grown — attached to her.'
She nodded, not quite believing shed heard that. 'Mantagnes, you're always bitching about how you want more action. Let's go find it.'
'You're going up there yourself, Commander?' more astonished than critical.
Grinning now, she said, 'I wouldn't miss this for sainthood.'
Chapter 44
'So, sibyl, you've threatened our Queen.' A man spoke at last; Moon felt the group stare of the angry nobles burn the tattoo into her throat like a brand. 'And you're forbidden to come into the city. We have been given the privilege of seeing that you never do either of those things again.'
Moon backed toward the bridge span, fighting the memory of what had happened here in the city to Danaquil Lu. 'I'm going to leave the palace. If you touch me, I'll contaminate you. Don't try to stop me—' Her voice slid.
'We won't try to stop you, sibyl,' he said, his voice hungry and blurred. 'Cross the bridge; go ahead.' He grinned, and it turned his thin face into a death's-head. They were all smiling suddenly, with drug-drunken, heedless malice — people who had been celebrating the end of their world, and knew who to blame for it. He took something out of a hidden place in his long outer robe and held it up; it looked like a dark finger. 'Cross the Pit.'
Moon covered her control box with her hand, staring at the thing he held; not sure what it was, but only that it was a threat to her. But she had to cross the bridge; she had to try. There was no other way. With clumsy hands she reached up to unfasten her gold stitched velvet cloak. She folded it in threes, which was the Lady's sacred number, and stepped toward the windy lip of the abyss in a defiant ritual. The cape was only a hindrance on her back; but it was a worthy gift to the Sea Mother, if She lay hungry below. Hungry for tribute, or hungry for sacrifice ...
Lady, guide me! Moon pitched the cloak outward with a prayer, heard the laughter of the nobles behind her. It bellied out in the cross drafts drifted and circled like a plummeting fisher bkd into the shaft's green darkness.
Moon pressed the first button in the sequence at her wrist, and started out onto the bridge. The Winters watched and muttered, but did nothing. Moon sounded another note, walked on, not even breathing. At the far end of the bridge more nobles waited; she tried not to see them clearly ... not to look down, not to listen to the demon dirge around her or the clamoring of fears inside her head...
