QUEEN OF THE SNOWS

I passed Burgess at two thousand metres, halfway across the difficult traverse between Pearson Col and the Forgotten Icefall. It was clear he was struggling.

'What's wrong? Altitude sickness?'

'Briefcase too heavy.' He clasped it to himself and struggled on.

The icefall is treacherous at the best of times, but today it was rotten with seracs and consultants. I saw a respected senior counsel almost carried off when a great horn of ice crashed down on the ledge he was crossing, and was forced to waste valuable time rescuing the Manufacturers' Association from a crevasse. I barely made it back onto firm snow by nightfall, and had to pitch my tent by moonlight.

I rose to a fair dawn and lost no time in striking camp. Weather like this was too good to waste. My breath froze before me as, with crampons and ice-axe, I toiled up the slope and onto the summit ridge, my eyes dazzled by the sun and the view.

I was on the summit almost before I knew it, and there she was: her flashing eyes, her floating hair, her laptop and satellite modem.

'Name?'

'Loveridge. I'm here about—'

'Inquiry, commission, inquisition? Choose wisely.'

'We were hoping for a select committee.'

She froze me with a look. 'A Commission of Inquiry will commence on this spot in two weeks, weather permitting. All participants should be represented by counsel. Dismissed.'

'But—'

'Two weeks. Be here at dawn.'

I backed out of the Presence.

The thought of roping twenty lawyers together and shepherding them up the Forgotten Icefall was so appalling that I didn't notice Burgess toiling upwards until I was almost on top of him. He looked paler than ever.

'Got a moment?' he gasped. 'How did it go?' He sank gratefully onto the snow.

'Got what I came for. Back in two weeks.'

'What was she wearing?'

'A brown survival suit with a yellow outer jacket. A woolly hat and typing gloves. Is that enough to go on?'

'You realise that wasn't her?'

'Wasn't who?'

'You didn't meet the Queen. That was her secretary. She schedules meetings, but she doesn't make decisions. I', said Burgess proudly, 'am meeting the Queen in thirty minutes.'

'You'd better hurry, then.'

Delaying my descent wasn't wise, and I paid for it later with a frantic scramble in the half-dark; but there wasn't room to hide a postage stamp on that summit, and only one route led there. To meet Burgess, the Queen had to pass me. Shivering in the rising wind, I watched him toil upward.

He was almost at the summit when she came. Borne aloft by her red and green plumage, uttering a single harsh cry, the Queen of the Snows wheeled once in the thin cold air before settling on her mountain throne.