The Summer Queen

TIAMAT: Carbuncle

“Well, Cousin, what a beautiful day it’s going to be!”

Danaquil Lu Wayaways glanced up, startled, as hands settled familiarly on his shoulders. The pressure sent pain down through his arthritic back, making him clench his teeth. His kinsman Kirard Set, the elder of the Wayaways clan, smiled in sublime anticipation, oblivious to his discomfort; Danaquil Lu frowned. “Are you talking about the weather?” he said.

Kirard Set laughed. “The weather. You’re priceless, Dana.” He peered at his cousin. “I can’t tell whether you’re tweaking me, or whether you’ve simply been so long among the fisheaters that you mean that. But either way you’re delightful.”

Danaquil Lu, who had not meant it, said nothing.

“I’m speaking of the upcoming decision about the new foundry, of course.”

“Then you shouldn’t be talking to me about it,” Danaquil Lu said flatly. There were plenty of the Winter nobility who were willing to accuse him of favoritism because he was one of only two Winters in the Sibyl College, and a Wayaways; even though the ultimate decision would be the Queen’s. He leaned heavily on the tabletop, trying to find a position that would make him comfortable. He could not straighten up fully anymore, either sitting or standing.

Kirard Set grunted. “You not only look old, Cousin—you act old. You should never have left the city.” He stopped midway through the motion of sitting down beside Danaquil Lu, and instead moved on around the large, tactfully circular table to find a more congenial seatmate.

“What choice did I have?” Danaquil Lu murmured, to the air. His hand rose. fingering the ridges of scarring down his cheek and jaw. The memory of his casting out from Carbuncle burned behind his eyes, as vivid suddenly as if it had happened yesterday. It was hard to realize now that it had happened half a lifetime ago, to a dumbstruck boy, someone who might as well be a complete stranger to the person he had become in Summer, and almost as hard to believe that he had been back in Carbuncle now for nearly eight years. He shook off the sense of disorientation with a motion that caused him more pain.

Miroe Ngenet, the Queen’s physician, was working with Clavally, consulting the sibyl net, trying to recreate some medicine or .surgical technique that would help him. In the meantime there was nothing he could do but live with it. He moved like an old man, he felt like an old man; some days it was hard not to believe that he was an old man, especially when he looked at Kirard Set. Kirard Set was old enough to be his great-grandfather, but looked more like his son. Kirard Set had been a favorite of the Snow Queen—and she had given him access to the water of life.

But the Snow Queen was gone, and faint age lines were beginning to appear at the corners of Kirard Set’s eyes. Danaquil Lu meditated on that thought, and did not feel so old. At least the physical hardships of life were less severe here in the city. And if they had not come to Carbuncle, Clavally would never have let herself become pregnant, and they would not have their beautiful daughter to delight them, and distract him—and Clavally—from an obsession with his health. Summer had come to the city, and to their lives, at last. It was good to be home.

He glanced up again, noticing with some surprise that Kirard Set had taken the one empty seat next to Sparks Dawntreader, the Queen’s consort—a seat he would have expected the Queen herself to occupy. But Sparks had apparently made no protest, and Kirard Set smiled in satisfaction, folding his hands on the tabletop.

“Damnation!”

Danaquil Lu glanced up again as someone else dropped into the seat beside him. Borah Clearwater sat snorting like a klee through the thick white brush of his mustache, rumbling ominously. Danaquil Lu pressed his lips together, controlling his smile as the older man slowly got himself under control.

Borah Clearwater was some kind of uncle to him, on his mother’s side, if he recalled rightly; a cantankerous old stone who owned plantation lands far south of the city, and came to Carbuncle only under duress. The duress this time had to do with the Wayaways clan; Kirard Set had been agitating for an access across Clearwater’s lands, a shortcut to the sea, as part of his push to get the Queen to grant him the right to have the new foundry built on a landlocked piece of his own holdings. The fact that Clearwater was here suggested he was afraid Kirard Set would be successful.

Danaquil Lu glanced on around the table. There were still a few empty seats. It was some kind of comment on his status that Clearwater chose to sit next to him. and that everyone else apparently chose not to—his status as a sibyl, or his status as an outsider among his own kind. He supposed they were really the same thing.

He fingered the trefoil hanging against his shirt as he glanced to his left, seeing that the seat on the other side of him was still unoccupied. The Greenside headwoman sitting across the gap looked back at him, her expression guarded. The Summer Queen had made the Winters accept what he had never believed they would accept, after centuries of being lied to by the Hegemony: the truth, that sibyls were human computer ports tied to an interstellar information network. She had shown the people of the city that sibyls could give them back the technology they hungered for; that sibyls were not simply diseased lunatics, as the offworlders had always claimed in order to keep Tiamat ignorant and backward in their absence. But a lifetime of suspicion did not fade overnight … or even over eight years…

“Well, at least you don’t smell like a sugarbath, like most of my kin, Danaquil Lu Wayaways,” Borah Clearwater said abruptly, as if he had been reading Danaquil Lu’s mind. “And you don’t look like a motherlom offworlder in plastic clothes. Drown me if I wouldn’t rather sit with lunatics and Summers than with these city-soft pissants, with their bogbrained ideas about raising the dead.” He looked at Danaquil Lu as if he expected agreement, his gray eyes as piercing as a predator’s, and about as congenial.

Danaquil felt his mouth inch up into another smile. “Me too,” he said sincerely.

Clearwater grunted, not requiring even that much encouragement. “The offworlders are gone, the technology’s gone with them; what’s gone is gone. I spent my whole life getting used to the idea. Let it go, and good riddance.” Danaquil Lu said nothing, this time, thinking privately that if he and everyone else at this meeting table were as old as Clearwater, they might all find it easy to let go of the past and make peace with the inevitable. But they weren’t ready to stop living yet, and that was the difference… Although there were days, trying to get up in the morning, when he could almost see Borah Clearwater’s point of view. “Goddamn nuisance— this damn woman, this Summer Queen; Kirard Set dragging me halfway up the coast for this—” Danaquil Lu raised a hand, silencing him abruptly, unthinkingly. “The Queen,” he murmured. Clearwater turned, following his gaze as he looked across the room.

“Damnation …” Clearwater breathed. It sounded more like wonder than a curse; Danaquil Lu wondered what emotion lay behind it. His own eyes stayed on the Queen as she entered the hall, crossed it under the waiting gaze of a hundred eyes; he found it hard, as he always did, to look away from her. He could not say what it was about her that affected him so. The paleness of her hair made a startling contrast to the muted greens of her traditional robes, which billowed behind her like the sea. Her eyes, he knew, were the color of the agates that washed up along Tiamat’s shores; their changeable depths held the earth, the sea, the sky. She was not a tall woman, not extraordinarily beautiful, and still as slender as the girl she had been when he and Clavally had initiated her into the calling of a sibyl. But there was something about her, an intensity of belief, the urgent grace of a drawn bow, that showed even in her movement as she crossed the room; that compelled him to watch her every move, listen to her every word. He knew he was not the only one who felt that way.

He had seen her almost every day in the years since he and Clavally had come to the city. They had been among the first to join the Sibyl College that Moon had established as part of her effort to recreate technology from the ground up. He had watched her grow in confidence and experience from an awkward island girl into a shrewd, determined woman who won her battles more and more through skill, depending less and less on the Lady’s Luck for her survival as Queen. If the rumors were true—and he thought they were—she came by her leadership abilities naturally. But where she had gotten the vision that drove her to forge a totally new future for this world, after growing up among the tradition-minded, tech-hating Summer islanders, he could not imagine. That was a part of her mystery … which was perhaps part of her power.

Danaquil Lu refocused on the room, on the present, as Moon Dawntreader chose the empty seat beside his own at the table. Stil! standing, with her hands cupping the totem-creatures carved on the chair’s back, she called the gathered men and women to order. Silence fell as she took her seat. Danaquil Lu glanced down at his notepad, seeing the trefoil symbols he had been absentmindedly doodling there. His back was killing him, and the meeting had not yet even begun. Days were long when the College met with the Council. He sighed, wishing that he had the Queen’s single-minded resolve; wishing that it had been his turn today to be the stay-at-home parent, and not Clavally’s. He covered the symbols with his hand as the Queen began to speak, and Borah Clearwater began to mutter in counterpoint beside him.

There were several members of the Sibyl College here today, including blind Fate Ravenglass, who was its head and still the only other Winter among the sibyls. Jerusha PalaThion and her husband Miroe Ngenet were here too, along with a few Winters who had managed to absorb some technical knowledge from their contact with the offworlders. They were struggling to become the researchers, the engineers of Tiamat’s future; asking the questions and working with the sibyls to turn the net’s data into measurable progress.

Elders of the various Winter and Summer clans or their representatives filled most of the other seats, and filled the air with give-and-take. They had become the first members of the Council the Queen had established at the same time she had established the Sibyl College. They were already the leaders of their extended-family groups; the Council gave them a forum where they could speak for and vote to protect their clans’ interests and holdings.

There had been a Council during the Snow Queen’s reign, imitating the offworlders’ judiciate government, but it had been strictly for Winters, and dominated by the self-proclaimed nobility who were Arienrhod’s favorites. There had never been a Council with Summers on it too, and usually the Summers and Winters mixed like oil and water. He was relieved to see that Capella Goodventure was not here today; he did not recognize the woman whom she had sent as her replacement. It surprised him that she was not here herself. She rarely missed the opportunity to object to any new project the Sibyl College or the Queen proposed.

Making use of the sibyl network and its vast resources of knowledge, the Queen had begun planting the seeds of progress everywhere—and already they were sprouting, like spring grass pushing up through the snow. New resources, new methods of production, new tools and new comforts had already rewarded the hard work of Tiamat’s people. It was only the beginning, but already the promise of what the next century could hold was a more tangible incentive to most people than the Queen’s constant insistence that they would—must—make themselves technologically independent, so that when the offworlders returned Tiamat could meet them as an equal.

The Winters embraced most of her proposals with an enthusiasm that made up for the Summers’ reluctance. Often they were eager to a fault, vying for the opportunity to exploit the mineral rights of their plantations, or have new laboratories and prototype manufactories constructed there. Today they were pressing the Queen for a decision on building a dam and power station north of the city.

“… that it would allow us to progress much faster if we have adequate power for the new factories—” Gaddon Overhill was saying, speaking with staccato urgency, as usual. “And it won’t foul the air or pollute the seas—”

“But a dam will flood lands—mostly Summer lands—that are used for farming and herding,” Dal Windward objected.

Overhill waved a hand dismissively. “Those lands are scarcely fit to support either crops or grazing. Small loss.”

“To you, maybe. Winter!” the Goodventure representative said. “Someone has to provide food for all you fools while you neglect your own plantations, to play with your new inventions.”

“Stick to the sea, then, that you Summers love so much,” Sewa Stormprince answered. ” ‘The Sea will provide,’ as you always like to say. And this won’t pollute it.”

“The Sibyl College has consulted the net on the matter.” The Queen raised her voice to silence them, as she frequently had to do. The Summers resisted rules of order, and the Winters would not let the Summers outshout them. “Danaquil Lu Wayaways will give you its findings.”

“Rubbish and lunacy,” Borah Clearwater muttered, to the room at large.

Danaquil Lu took a deep breath, and a last look at his prepared notes, before he lifted his eyes to the expectant faces of the Council. “The data received in Transfer from the sibyl net indicate that such a project is unfeasible, for a number of reasons—” He pressed on, through suddenly rising protests. “The primary reason we have for recommending against the dam project is that it would, as the Summers claim, render a substantial amount of land unavailable. On top of that, our ability to construct such a dam with complete safety, even with blueprints and material specifications provided by the net, is uncertain at this point in our development. It has to function not only through the relatively mild weather of High Summer, when free-flowing water is plentiful, but also the intense and extended cold of High Winter, when everything is frozen. We don’t have a great margin for error, unlike a lot of worlds—”

“Lady and all the gods,” Overhill interrupted. “How are we ever going to get past ‘this point’ if we don’t take some chances’.”

“The sibyl mind is guiding us.” The Queen cut him off almost sharply; something she would not have had the confidence to do two or three years ago. She had become surer in her leadership as she had grown used to being Queen; and as it became clear to everyone that the sibyl net, which she relied on as faithfully as if it really were the Sea Mother’s voice, was as omniscient as any goddess when it came to what was wisdom or folly for her people. “It has shown us that our world is barely habitable, by the standards of most worlds human beings live on. We must make technological progress if we are ever to have an easier, safer life here. But we still have nearly a century before the Hegemony returns, and the sibyl mind is showing us the straightest. swiftest course to our future. Without its guidance, we would not have achieved a tenth of what we have done so far. We have to trust it, or we’ll end up destroying our world, instead. Therefore, in this matter I support the Summers.”

“Then where will we get a new source of energy for our manufactories?” Overhill demanded.

“If you will let Danaquil Lu Wayaways finish his report,” the Queen said, with faint impatience, “then you will see that there are alternative solutions.” Overhill settled back into his seat, into silence, as she glanced at Danaquil Lu, “An alternative method of generating power has been offered to us,” Danaquil Lu went on, at her nod. “It involves using wind-driven turbines, which can be put up in the fields and on hillsides without spoiling them tor grazing or farming. The wind will provide all the energy we’ll need for the next decade or so, and by then we may be able to construct tide-driven turbines, and take our power directly from the sea. Carbuncle gets its power that way, and its system has worked perfectly for centuries, …”

“You’re talking about windmills?” Abbo Win Graymount said. “I’ve seen one power a pump once or twice, but they could never produce the kind of energy we need to run factories—not if you had half a million of them!”

“You’ve never seen one with this design,” Miroe Ngenet broke in. “I’ve used them on my plantation for years. They’re far more efficient than anything you’ve ever seen.” Graymount shrugged, dubious.

“We will begin developing detailed plans for the wind-power project, and discuss location sites and materials at our next meeting. We may be able to make use of supplies left behind by the offworlders in some of the city warehouses,” the Queen said, looking relieved as the hubbub of discussion faded to murmured speculation among the Winters, grudging silence among the Summers.

Borah Clearwater muttered under his breath as Danaquil Lu settled into a more comfortable position, relieved to be done with his command performance. He was content to let the Queen’s other advisors handle all further topics of discussion and debate. He sat, half-listening, half preoccupied by his own pain, through a seemingly endless litany of old versus new.

Kirard Set, who had sat waiting with serene anticipation all the while Borah Clearwater simmered, spoke up at last, inquiring with subtle confidence whether the Queen had considered the matter of his bid for the latest refining operation, and the right-of-way across the Clearwater lands.

The Queen nodded. “Yes, Elder Wayaways,” she said, shuffling through her sheaf of handwritten notes. “Your site seems ideal for the foundry, especially since its location is so close to the source of iron ore. Your offer to fund the initial construction work is very generous. I don’t see any significant obstacles to granting your request. Does the Clearwater elder have any objection to granting the needed right of way … ‘?” She glanced around the table. Danaquil Lu was not certain that whoever represented the Clearwater clan was even present.

“I have an objection, damn it!” Borah Clearwater loomed up suddenly beside him, glaring at Kirard Set. “It’s my plantation, and by all the gods, 1 won’t have any Wayaways touching so much as a speck of dust on it!” He turned toward the Queen as he spoke, bellowing as if she were halfway across the planet, and not almost next to him. Danaquil Lu covered his ears.

The Queen looked up at him with a mixture of alarm and disbelief. “But all that he requested was an easement—”

“Today! And tomorrow he’ll bribe you into— Get your hands off me!” The lastwas directed toward the two city constables who had come in, at Jerusha PalaThion’s summons, from their post outside the door. They took his arms and led him forcibly out of the room, still protesting loudly.

Danaquil Lu let his hands fall into his lap. He shook his head, meeting the Queen’s astonished stare as the room around them rippled with relieved laughter. She looked away from him again, toward Kirard Set. “Your request is granted, Elder Wayaways,” she said, with apparent calm and something like satisfaction.

Kirard Set smiled, nodding his head in what appeared to be grateful acknowledgment. But Danaquil Lu caught the gleam of knowing amusement in his eyes as he looked at the Queen, a secret assumption of complicity that the Queen’s expression did not return, or even seem to register. Danaquil Lu looked away, glancing toward the empty doorway. It seemed to him that he still heard Borah Clearwater’s voice echoing through the halls of the Sibyl College.

He pushed to his feet, slowly and awkwardly. Murmuring his apologies to the Queen, he left the Council chamber by the same exit.