"Over the next few months, you are to peruse the encyclopedia of Hagions with the intent of choosing a personal goddess. Most are womanly in shape, some are androgynous, some are homo-, bi-, or omnisexual, and a few take other forms. Many exist in the guise of youth, as prepubescent maidens, as laughing children. Others are more matronly, secure in their maturity, sensuous and passionate. Some are old women, beyond lust, but filled with the knowledge of years. In general, it is best to choose one of the younger goddesses, saving the older for your own age.
"Our religion is monotheistic. We worship the lifeforce that pervades the galaxy in infinite variety, life that bubbles up from the ferment of worlds, and we know that force may appear in myriad guises. There is no rivalry among these guises, as they are all aspects of the same divinity, one so vast and complex that She can be infinitely divided into parts while every part remains infinite. Your relationship to a particular guise may be as a son to a mother, as a servant to a queen, as a lover to his love, and among all her guises you are certain to find one who will attract you, one who will remind you of some aspect you already deem sacred, one who you will feel no strain in worshipping and to whom you might be pleased to devote your life.
"Choose well and thoughtfully. It is not blasphemous to say that choosing can be rather like getting a new pair of boots made. So long as you are in the service of your patroness, your chosen Hagion will walk with you in that service, and She must not rub blisters on your soul or cripple you with calluses. She will make your way smooth and easy, no matter how arduous it is in fact, so choose a goddess that fits.
"Once you have chosen your own aspect of divinity, we will help you become conditioned to Her service, and if the time comes when you believe you cannot properly serve your patroness, you will succeed by serving your Hagion instead. When your patroness takes you to the Temple at each New Year, you will light incense in thanks to your own divinity. In your own quarters, you will maintain a shrine to Her. This is to remind you of the divinity through whom the lifeforce flows, however corporeal the body or frail the mind through which that force is transmitted."
She saw a hand hesitantly raised. Fentrys, with an almost apprehensive expression.
"Yes, Fentrys?"
"Do the Hagions not resent being used like that, Madame?"
Madame frowned. At the back of the room, someone tittered, and she turned a quick and cautioning glance in that direction, like a search light, quickly beaming and as quickly withdrawn.
"It is not a foolish question, but it is a complicated one. The Hags at the Temple say that because the Hagions wish our patronesses to be served properly, they do not mind being used to that end. The Hagions accept our adoration, even though we are conditioned to give it, because we are using the conditioning to do their will. The Hags base their decision upon an historic precedent:
"On Old Earth, certain orders of celibate females were said to be brides of their male god. The writings of some of these women clearly establish that their devotion, though chaste in a physical sense, could be highly erotic, sensual, and joyous on a psychological level. These celibate orders often served the male priesthood or worked among the sick and the poor, doing many laborious and distasteful activities in the spirit of 'serving' their bridegroom, that is, achieving sensual and erotic rewards through activities which were neither. This conditioning and sublimation was considered appropriate.
"We do the same. Though serving our patroness may be unstimulating, serving our Hagion is highly erotic, sensual and joyous. Thus we accomplish the one by doing the other ... "
Her voice faded and she stood, staring out a south window at the busy street with an expression that grew slightly troubled. Far to the east, across the river, ashen clouds rolled from the scarp, and they seemed far more ominous than usual. When she looked back at her students, she saw a hand raised at the back.
"Mouche?"
"Madame, when you talk about serving the patroness, you always say 'we.' Why is that?"
She smiled. "Oh, my boy, I serve the Hagions by serving your patroness by serving you, just as you serve the Hagions in serving your patroness. We are all caught up, all of us, in serving this through serving that. Nothing is ever quite clear or direct in this world, and love is the most unclear and indirect of all ... "
A bell rang in the great hall. She said, "It is suppertime. You are dismissed."
She returned to the window as the room emptied, hearing one final rustle of paper and turning to see that Mouche still lingered, looking blindly at her like one stunned by terrible news or a sudden revelation. She hardly dared speak to him, and yet his depth of concentration seemed almost dangerous ...
"Are you considering which Hagion you will select, Mouche?"
His face lightened suddenly and he looked directly at her with a blinding smile.
"Oh, no, Madame. As you say, love is unclear and indirect, but once you feel it ... I already have a goddess that I serve."
He turned and went out, leaving Madame staring speechlessly after him. She had seldom seen such rapture on a human face. She could not imagine who, or what might have stirred it, and she felt a strange disquiet that only later did she identify as envy.
27—The Questioner is Announced
The council of the Men of Business (the C-MOB, as it was jovially called) made the laws that governed men's affairs from their council house in Naibah, that structure known as the Fortress of Vanished Men. The council was made up entirely of g'Family Men, men whose wives had been dowered in and who had produced children. It elected from among its member an executive committee, ECMOB: six men from various parts of Newholme who came to Naibah each quarter year.
The Naibah fortress had, as a matter of fact, figured prominently in the women raids of the early settlement years, thus giving it a long and (as the Hags put it) disreputable history. Not the least reason for its scandalous reputation was the behavior of ECMOB members who immediately upon arrival removed their veils, poured themselves large glasses of vinaceous liquids and thereafter spoke disrespectfully of their wives, acts no fathering men would dare commit in public. There, also, when the routine business had been taken care of, ECMOB allowed itself to talk of other matters: matters of governance usually reserved to the Hags; matters that family men ordinarily only whispered at.
On a particular day, there was only one item of business. Volcanic activity had increased, as it did cyclicly every ten to twenty years, but the current geological violence was greater than at any time since settlement. Therefore, ECMOB had recently hired a consulting firm from off planet to set up surveillance equipment—also purchased from off planet—and assess the danger to settled communities. The firm had prepared a report which said, in essence that, yes, there was an increase in volcanic activity, which currently seemed to be about four times what it had been when Newholme was settled and twice what it had been ten years before. Yes, there might be some danger to the valley of the Giles, but no, it hadn't come to the point that the firm could recommend any sort of evacuation yet.
"Which I, for one, do not find helpful," said the chairman, one Estif g'Bayoar. "Not with all the eastern valleys ashed over, not with all the farms up there buried. There've been tremors as far north as the sea islands and as far west as Bittleby Village."
"All the valley farms gone?" asked Myrphee g'Mindon, stroking his chins. "I used to get quite a good goat cheese from up there."
Estif nodded. "The firm hired some supernume outlyers to place some sensors near the big caldera on the scarp. It's too high to climb to without breathing apparatus, which we've ordered but not received yet. Two of the men did get high enough to see that some new vents have opened during the past year, and there've been gas and ash flows all down the valleys. I suggest we ask the firm to give us their best estimate on city security. We can't evacuate Naibah or Sendoph without considerable notice!"
There were nods, some sanguine, some troubled.
Estif cleared his throat to signify a new matter, tappi
ng restless fingers on the sheet of heavy vellum that lay on the table before him. Writing on vellum was considered sufficiently traditional that receiving it would not insult either pre- or post-technological societies. It was, therefore, habitually utilized for formal interplanetary notifications.
"Newholme has received a communication from ... from the Questioner," he said in a voice that was usually dry and emotionless but trembled now, very slightly. "The Questioner intends to visit Newholme, and it sends a formal announcement of that fact via a freighter that now sits outside Naibah. Does anyone here have any idea why it would be coming just now?" He regarded the problematical document, biting his lip, as though the meaning might become clear through protracted observation.
The ECMOB shifted restlessly, each member glancing covertly at his neighbors. Slab g'Tupoar, a portly fellow with dark, squirming eyebrows, snarled, "For Family's sake, 'Stif. You know why now. There's only two reasons it could be! Coming just now, I mean."
Bony Bin g'Kiffle, moved to immediate belligerence, muttered, "Of all the stupid ... Why must we deal with this?"
Myrphee g'Mindon struggled to his feet and wobbled unsteadily toward the information wall. "Questioner," he said. "Enlighten."
"Bionic construct," murmured the wall. "Nominally female. Containing, in words of enactment, text and commentaries on Haraldson's Edicts of Equity as well as wisdom of ages acquired since inception." The wall hummed a moment, as though thinking. "Wisdom of ages not susceptible of definition."
"Purpose of," Myrphee grated in an annoyed tone. "Enlighten."
"Purpose of Questioner," said the wall. "Primary assignment: Assess member worlds of COW on regular schedule to determine continued compliance with edicts of Haraldson. Secondary assignment: Assess other mankind-settled worlds to determine if cultures meet minimal standards of ethical conduct regarding human rights. Final assignment: Take every opportunity to accumulate knowledge about cultures, mankind and other. Report to COW any divergence from council edicts applying to all mankind settlements, whether members or nonmembers of COW, regarding human rights, age, or gender rights, or rights of indigenous races." The machine silenced itself, then, with a whir said, almost conversationally, "Questioner is also authorized to order disposal of mankind populations who are egregiously transgressing the edicts."
At this addition, Myrphee's chins quivered, the tremor passing to those at the table as a little wind might move through a grove of trees, a sudden and collective shudder that left a trembling quiet in its wake. After some moments, Myrphee drew back his pudgy fist as though to hit the wall, but contented himself with an obscene gesture.
"Excrement," he said feelingly.
"Gentlemen." Estif tapped his little gavel, saying in his high, serious voice, "Come now. It's unlikely to be ... well, it just can't be that bad."
"About as bad as it can get," grated Myrphee g'Mindon as he returned to his seat.
"Like tidal wave, tornado, forest fire," offered Calvy g'Valdet, in the light, slightly amused tone that the other members often found offensive. Calvy made a point of being amusing about important things, and he did it in a way that came close to condoning immorality. Often the others punished him for it, as now, by seeming not to notice. If morals were the measure of a man, Calvy had no business being a member of ECMOB, for it was known that Calvy's wife of some fifteen years had not bought a Consort, though her contract allowed her to do so. It was rumored that prior to his marriage, Calvy had pretended a lengthy business trip while actually spending a month or two in a Consort house, learning whatever dirty things it was that Consorts did, just so his wife would never supplant him in her affections. The story said he was in love with her, which if true, was both unmanly and indecent.
Though this story was known to the other members of ECMOB, none of them had ever discussed it with Calvy himself. Had they done so, custom would almost have required that they denounce his behavior. Pleasuring a wife was not proper for a Family Man, and they felt Calvy should be far too bowed down by guilt to be amusing.
Why then, Bin g'Kiffle asked himself, did Calvy seem to enjoy life so much more than he, Bin, who conducted himself in perfect accordance with custom? Bin's couplings were unfailingly joyless, and reason dictated that the Hagions should, therefore, reward him more than they had! The cockade in his hat, the g' before his name, and six children, four of them supernumes, did not seem a sufficient compensation for all his years of struggle. The thought was a recurrent one, and as usual it made him splenetic.
"The Questioner's visit could mean total disaster," he fumed, glaring at Calvy.
"Bin, let's not overreact. Calm, please!" Now slightly peevish himself, Estif looked from face to face, annoyance plain on his own.
"What does it ... she say?" Diminutive Sym g'Sinsanoi hoisted himself higher in his chair. It was a habitual movement, this hoisting up, though Sym appeared little shorter than the other men when seated. "She must say something!"
Himself annoyed by all these festering feelings, Estif threw the vellum onto the table before him and sank into his chair. "The letter of announcement says she wishes to visit our lovely world, which she has not yet had the pleasure of assessing."
Myrphee shifted in his chair, redistributing his considerable weight. "The Questioner will look at our way of life to see if we comply with the edicts. We are going to have to prove that we do comply with the edicts. Which means we will need the help of the Hags."
"How many in the party?" asked Calvy g'Valdet, who was not given to muttering over what could not be changed. His way was to smile, to avoid recrimination, to cut through the tangle, to decide and move, to do what was necessary without endless nattering. No matter what the others might think of his morals, they all agreed that Calvy got things done.
"And, where will we put them?" asked Myrphee.
"Here in the fortress?" Bin g'Kiffle suggested. "It's the easiest place. It's already staffed with ... ah, well, you know."
"It has a human staff," said Sym, sourly. "Chef, assistants, stewards. For reasons of security." He put his hands together and examined the ceiling above him.
"How many are coming," asked Myrphee, "with the Questioner? We need to know! One or two we could maybe ... manage. More than that ... " He scowled at the tabletop.
"I'm afraid the notice mentions an entourage," admitted Estif. "There will be two Old Earthians to do the actual 'contact work,' as they call it, plus a Cluvian protocol officer, some bodyguards, plus whatever specialists she figures she needs. The protocol officer will arrive on planet before the others."
"There's no way we can keep the Hags out of it, I suppose?" Bin snarled.
"We didn't receive the only copy," said Calvy. "The Hags will have been notified as well."
Myrphee squeezed his hands together until his knuckles made white dimples in the plump sausages of his fingers. "How about asking for a delay, on the grounds of insufficient notice, or time for preparation?"
Calvy said, "We're not supposed to prepare, Myrph. She's supposed to catch us as nearly unaware as makes no difference."
"You don't suppose she's heard about ... ?" asked Slab, his eyebrows rising into a single hairy bar across his forehead.
It took no effort for the others to keep their faces carefully blank. They did not suppose. Every habit they had cultivated since childhood kept them from supposing. Not one of them would even momentarily consider that there was something particular on Newholme in which the Questioner might be quite interested. Even if the something particular bit them with long, sharp teeth on their collective ass, they would bear the pain without seeming to notice.
Considering that their true concerns were unspoken and nothing was put forward as a solution to the unspecified, the meeting lasted longer than necessary. Calvy tried a time or two to push for some resolution, but the general discomposure made decision impossible. Whenever the Hags or the edicts came into MOB discussions, the meetings dragged on while a chronic complainer vented anger at his wife or mother and a
hobby-historian blathered on about olden times when there weren't any Hags and when women did as they were damned well told. The committee always seemed to have at least one of each. At present they were Bin and Myrphee respectively. Though Calvy was a better historian than Myrphee, he didn't blather about it.
Estif muttered, "If you're sure the Hags are going to be involved, we ought to appear cooperative, I suppose. Is there a volunteer to take this document into Sendoph to the Haggery?"
Somewhat reluctantly, Bin g'Kiffle raised one hand. "I'm going back there tonight. I suppose I can take it." He intended to catch the afternoon boat upriver, and could, in fact, deliver it that evening. It would give him an excuse for not going home immediately on arrival. As everyone in the room knew, Bin would use any excuse not to go home. His wife was a termagant.
"I'm going up to Sendoph tonight on business," murmured Calvy. "I can take it if Bin doesn't want to be bothered."
"I said I'd take it," snapped Bin. "And I will!"
Calvy bowed, making an ironic face. He intended to call on an old friend in Sendoph, and he was glad enough not to make a time-consuming call at the Panhagion.
Estif handed over the vellum and the fancy envelope with the seals and ribbons. Bin stowed it away in his leather-and-gilt document case, almost as important a symbol of status as his cockade and the g' before his name. After which the men carefully affixed their veils across their faces, adjusted their honorable cockades, and took themselves back to home cities and places of business, where they belonged.
28—A Family Man Visits the Hags
Only in the secrecy of the Fortress of Lost Men was the Temple in Sendoph referred to as "the Haggery," and Bin g'Kiffle was careful not even to think the words as he climbed the wide stone steps leading to the huge bronze doors. One of the Consort Houses had doors like that, also, part of the cargo of the ship the first settlers had pirated. Pirated or not, males did not approach those doors for anything trivial. Males did not hurry when there were Hags in the vicinity. When at the Temple, even workmen or delivery men took their time, abating any tendency toward immodest alacrity. Here, everything was done slowly, deliberately, with due weight and moment.
Tepper,Sheri - Six Moon Dance Page 18