Lois McMaster Bujold 08 The Borders Of Infinity

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"You," said Ma Mattulich, and her loathing came through even the nauseating
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fast-penta cheer, "
you are the worst. All I went through, all I did, all the grief, and you come
along at the end. A mutie made lord over us all, and all the rules changed,
betrayed at the end by an off-worlder woman s weakness. You make it all for
nothing.
Hate you. Dirty mutie..." her voice trailed off in a drugged mumble.
Miles took a deep breath, and looked around the room. The stillness was
profound, and no one dared break it.
"I believe," he said, "that concludes my investigation into the facts of this
case."
The mystery of Raina s death was solved.
The problem of justice, unfortunately, remained.
Miles took a walk.
The graveyard, though little more than a crude clearing in the woodland, was a
place of peace and beauty in the morning light.
The stream burbled endlessly, shifting green shadows and blinding brilliant
reflections. The faint breeze that had shredded away the last of the night fog
whispered in the trees, and the tiny, short-lived creatures that everyone on
Barrayar but biologists called bugs sang and twittered in the patches of
native scrub.
"Well, Raina," Miles sighed, "and what do I do now?" Pym lingered by the
borders of the clearing, giving Miles room. "It s all right," Miles assured
the tiny grave, "Pym s caught me talking to dead people before. He may think
I m crazy, but he s far too well-trained to say so."
Pym in fact did not look happy, nor altogether well. Miles felt rather guilty
for dragging him out; by rights the man should be resting in bed, but Miles
had desperately needed this time alone. Pym wasn t just suffering the residual
effect of having been kicked by Ninny. He had been silent ever since Miles had
extracted the confession from Ma Mattulich. Miles was unsurprised.
Pym had steeled himself to play executioner to their imagined hill bully; the
substitution of a mad grandmother as his victim had clearly given him pause.
He would obey whatever order Miles gave him, though, Miles had no doubt of
that.
Miles considered the peculiarities of Barrayaran law, as he wandered about the
clearing, watching the stream and the light, turning over an occasional rock
with the toe of his boot. The fundamental principle was clear; the spirit was
to be preferred over the letter, truth over technicalities. Precedent was held
subordinate to the judgment of the man on the spot. Alas, the man on the spot
was himself. There was no refuge for him in automated rules, no hiding behind
the law says as if the law were some living overlord with a real Voice. The
only voice here was his own.
And who would be served by the death of that half-crazed old woman? Harra? The
relationship between mother and daughter had been wounded unto death by this,
Miles had seen that in their eyes, yet still Harra had no stomach for
matricide. Miles rather preferred it that way, having her standing by his ear
crying for bloody revenge would have been enormously distracting just now.
The obvious justice made a damn poor reward for Harra s courage in reporting
the crime. Raina? Ah. That was more difficult.
"I d like to lay the old gargoyle right there at your feet, small lady," Miles
muttered to her. "Is it your desire? Does it serve you? What would serve you?"
Was this the great burning he had promised her?
What judgment would reverberate along the entire Dendarii mountain range?
Should he indeed sacrifice these people to some larger political statement,
regardless of their wants? Or should he forget all that, make his judgment
serve only those directly involved? He scooped up a stone and flung it full
force into the stream. It vanished invisibly in the rocky bed.
He turned to find Speaker Karal waiting by the edge of the graveyard. Karal
ducked his head in greeting and approached cautiously.
"So, m lord," said Karal.
"Just so," said Miles.
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"Have you come to any conclusion?"
"Not really." Miles gazed around. "Anything less than Ma Mattulich s death
seems... inadequate justice, and yet... I cannot see who her death would
serve."
"Neither could I. That s why I took the position I did in the first place."
"No..." said Miles slowly, "no, you were wrong in that. For one thing, it very
nearly got Lem Csurik killed. I was getting ready to pursue him with deadly
force at one point. It almost destroyed him with Harra. Truth is better.
Slightly better. At least it isn t a fatal error. Surely I can do... something
with it."
"I didn t know what to expect of you, at first," admitted Karal.
Miles shook his head. "I meant to make changes. A difference. Now... I don t
know."
Speaker Karal s balding forehead wrinkled. "But we are changing."
"Not enough. Not fast enough."
"You re young yet, that s why you don t see how much, how fast. Look at the
difference between Harra and her mother. God -
look at the difference between Ma Mattulich and her mother.
There was a harridan." Speaker Karal shuddered. "I remember her, all right.
And yet, she was not so unusual, in her day. So far from having to make
change, I don t think you could stop it if you tried. The minute we finally
get a powersat receptor up here, and get on the comm net, the past will be
done and over. As soon as the kids see the future - their future - they ll be
mad after it. They re already lost to the old ones like Ma Mattulich. The old
ones know it, too, don t believe they don t know it. Why d you think we
haven t been able to get at least a small unit up here yet? Not just the cost.
The old ones are fighting it. They call it off-planet corruption, but it s
really the future they fear."
"There s so much still to be done."
"Oh, yes. We are a desperate people, no lie. But we have hope. I don t think
you realize how much you ve done, just by coming up here."
"I ve done nothing," said Miles bitterly. "Sat around, mostly. And now, I
swear, I m going to end up doing more nothing. And then go home. Hell!"
Speaker Karal pursed his lips, looked at his feet, at the high hills. "You are
doing something for us every minute. Mutie lord.
Do you think you are invisible?"
Miles grinned wolfishly. "Oh, Karal, I m a one-man band, I am. I m a parade."
"As you say, just so. Ordinary people need extraordinary examples. So they can
say to themselves, well, if he can do that, I
can surely do this.
No excuses."
"No quarter, yes, I know that game. Been playing it all my life." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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