Venus of Shadows

by Pamela Sargent

  Emilia poured herself a small glass of whiskey. “That means there'll be more demand for ours. Lucky for us that you and Risa decided not to try those new plants.” Nikolai's bondmate was a thin young woman with mousy brown hair and a pale, narrow face. “Our soybeans are doing well enough, but I think we ought to try for more spinach.”

  Malik tried to pretend he was interested. In the nearly four years since Emilia Knef had joined this household, he had rarely had a real talk with her or, for that matter, with Nikolai. The couple were not people to waste too much time in idle chatter when work was to be done; their conversations revealed two unreflective minds immersed in practicality. Nikolai and Emilia spoke of soybeans, plant blights, faulty door-opening circuitry, clogged plumbing, and ways to increase the household's credit as if these were life's greatest challenges.

  He sniffed; a faint odor of fish had permeated the room. Lately, Nikolai and Paul would get up early to go to the lake whenever fishing was allowed from the small docks recently built along the shore. The Russian had quickly discovered that others would trade with him for fresh fillets. He cleaned his catch in the kitchen; now the common room often stank of Kolya's enterprise.

  Paul and Grazie, at the other end of the table, were questioning their son Patrick about his lessons. “How do you know you're not interested in geology?” Grazie said.

  Patrick glared at his food. “I just do.” He had his father's reddish-blond hair and his mother's dark eyes; he wore the pout that was his usual expression. “Anyway, what do I need it for?”

  “That isn't for you to decide,” Paul responded. “Don't you want to learn enough to be able to make certain decisions about what others tell you? That's why you're in school, you and the other children. Would you rather have Linkers and specialists decide everything for you?”

  Patrick shrugged. “They decide a lot of stuff, anyway.”

  “But we have something to say about it. You should be grateful for the chance to have lessons. Your grandmother's people weren't so fortunate—where Tina came from, only a few could go to school.”

  “Look at Chimene,” Grazie added. “A year younger than you, and already she has to help you with some of your work. You could follow her example.”

  Patrick gazed sullenly at Chimene. She blushed and hunched over her food, having the grace to look embarrassed, Malik sighed. He had suggested gently to Grazie and Paul that harping at their son was not likely to produce the desired results. They were like several of the parents who interrogated him about their children. The ones without much learning wanted their young ones stuffed with knowledge; the ones with more education wondered if their children were learning the right things. Most of them wanted a rather improbable result—a child who would master the curriculum thoroughly while never raising difficult or troubling intellectual questions. What they usually got was a child who limited his ambitions to mastering a useful skill or a necessary scientific or technical specialty.

  Free Cytherians, he thought bitterly. They were free to imprison themselves.

  “Patrick does his tasks around here,” Chen said then. “He deserves some praise for that.” Patrick shot a triumphant look at Chimene; this was an area in which the girl was often negligent. Chimene, Malik thought, took after her father in that way.

  Malik picked at his food. Nikolai and Grazie were the best cooks in the household, but they had been eating rabbit stew for three days now, and the food was growing tiresome. Nikolai, sensibly enough, made a lot of whatever he cooked so that he wouldn't have to bother with the same task the next day.

  Malik could not find fault with the manner in which this household treated him. They were kind enough; if he still knew little of their inner thoughts and fears, he supposed they knew even less about his. They had to be aware that his feelings for Risa had cooled, but they probably ascribed that to Risa's preoccupation with the Oberg Council and the stresses of rearing a child. The other couples at the table had their own disputes; the difference was that they seemed to settle theirs.

  Bettina stood up. “I've got some scans to study,” the physician said, “and a couple of people to talk to.” She left the common room. Nikolai and Emilia cleared the table, while Paul murmured of a promise to share a drink with a friend.

  “I'll be out in the greenhouse,” Grazie announced. “Patrick, I want to see you in your room and asleep by the time I get back.” The children waited until the door closed behind her, then sprawled on the floor with a small screen to play a game.

  Nikolai and his bondmate soon retreated to one of the rooms they had added to Bettina's wing. Malik stared after them, then knelt to wipe off the table. Even after nearly four years of being pledged, the two often found excuses to be alone. He grimaced as he stood up, remembering that he had not told Emilia about the slightly unpleasant smell in his wing's bathroom. He guessed that either the toilet's suction tube or the waste dryer-compressor was to blame, but there was no use in trying to pinpoint the problem himself. Even Risa had learned that it was easier to let someone skilled handle such problems than to nag Malik into making futile efforts at repairs.

  Chen could attend to the toilet, but the old man was sitting at his table, carving a piece of wood, and Malik did not feel like disturbing him. Chen had always been tolerant of Malik's failings; he had even reproached Risa for dwelling on them, “I can do things Malik can't,” Chen would say, “and he knows things I don't. There's no harm in that.” It was a pity Risa could not share her father's more philosophical attitude.

  She knew what I was like, he told himself; she knew from the beginning that our bond might be a mistake. He had never failed her as a bed-partner and gave her what affection he could. She had admitted to him that she had once expected little more from any bondmate, but that admission had come during their first months together, when he had found it easier to soothe her with talk of a love he occasionally felt.

  Yet she had also given him Chimene. He glanced at his daughter's dark head; his love for her was unclouded by doubts.

  The door opened; Risa entered the common room. Malik smiled automatically as he went to her, took her hands, and kissed her on the cheek. “Have you eaten?” he asked.

  She nodded. “With Noella and Theron. That reminds me—he wants to talk to you. He was going to invite you over, but—”

  “I'll call him up.”

  “You're stupid,” Chimene said suddenly.

  Patrick sat up. “I'm not.”

  “Yes, you are. That maze is simple.”

  “You're stupid,” Patrick replied. “At least I don't go wandering off by myself in the main dome.”

  Chimene pushed the screen aside. “You said you wouldn't tell!”

  “What is this?” Risa asked. “Who's been wandering around in the main dome?”

  Patrick bit his lip, then glanced at Chimene. “I didn't mean it,” he said, “but you shouldn't call me stupid.”

  Risa tapped her foot. “I want to know what you're talking about.”

  Patrick stared at the floor. “Yoshi took us to the airship bay,” he muttered, “and then this ship had to land, so we went inside, and Chimene wanted to talk to the pilot some more, so she asked Yoshi, and he said it was all right.”

  “He did?” Risa frowned.

  “Chimene said you wouldn't mind.” The boy's voice was now a whisper.

  “And I don't suppose you bothered to contradict her.” Risa folded her arms as she gazed down at her daughter. “I've told you not to wander around without supervision, especially anywhere near those tents. You know there have been complaints about some of the newer settlers. Did you even bother to send a message here about what you were doing?”

  Chimene did not reply.

  “Probably not, because you know what I would have said about it. It seems I'm going to have to speak to Yoshi and tell him to disregard any excuses you give him in the future. I'll have to let him know—”

  “I was going to leave a message!” Chimene looked up at Malik with a look of
desperation. “And I wasn't alone, I was with the pilot, and then Malik came by, and I knew he would, so I didn't do anything wrong.”

  “Really,” Risa said. “Then why did Patrick say you were wandering around?”

  “I didn't mean it,” Patrick said glumly. “I just said it because I was mad.”

  Chimene was still gazing at Malik. “It's all right,” he said as his bondmate turned toward him. “I left my students at our greenhouses with Leilani, and they'd finished their work for the day, so I thought I'd take the time to go over to the southeast dome and speak to Helder Arneld—he wanted to ask me about a small seminar I'm planning for him and a few of his friends.”

  Risa's eyes narrowed. “You could have settled that over the screen.”

  “He invited me, and I thought it would be rude not to go—anyway, I needed the exercise, and Chen said something a few days ago about wanting to check the monument, so I decided to do that as well.” So far, he was telling the truth, although his elaborate explanation made it seem like a lie. “Chimene obviously knew I'd be in the main dome when she was there, so I can't see that this matters. The pilot answered a few of her questions about the ships—in fact, she seemed quite taken by Chimene's interest in her work. I hardly think that Chimene should be punished for being curious, especially when she knew I'd be there to look out for her.”

  Chimene's large dark eyes widened with relief, and obvious admiration of his cleverness. He had shaded the truth a little, but surely his promise to his daughter that he would not tell Risa about the incident outweighed any demand for total honesty.

  “I see.” Risa pursed her lips. “And I suppose you were both going to tell me about this adventure just before Patrick spoke.”

  “You have so much on your mind lately,” Malik said. “Chimene sometimes gets the feeling that you don't have much time to hear of her doings, and perhaps her reluctance to tell you about her day led Patrick to think she was keeping a secret.”

  Risa was silent; he had disarmed her, at least for now. Chimene still looked impressed. Chen lifted his head and watched Malik and Risa for a moment before turning toward the children. “Patrick,” the old man said, “the next time you make a promise to someone, try to keep it, or else consider if it's a promise you should make. You shouldn't make promises you might have reason to break. And you, child.” He focused on Chimene. “You shouldn't demand privileges your friends don't have until you've earned them. Perhaps you should have stayed with the other students even if Malik was nearby, instead of deciding you were free to do what you liked.”

  “Yoshi let me stay,” Chimene objected. “I'm more ahead in my lessons than the others. Why shouldn't I—”

  “People don't like it when you demand too many favors,” Risa answered. “You'd better start learning that, Chimene.”

  “It wasn't a favor. Anyway, Yoshi said I have to do a report tomorrow about what the pilot told me, so the others'll hear all about it.”

  “And have you prepared one?” Risa said.

  “Yes.”

  “Then you can come to your room with me and help me mend the tunic and pants you ripped. If your father insists on wasting credit having Grete make nice clothes for you, the least you can do is learn how to take care of them. Patrick, you should probably be studying instead of playing games.”

  Chen resumed his carving; Patrick heaved a sigh as he picked up his screen. Malik walked toward the hallway, deciding that he would call Theron from his room.

  * * * *

  “So you think the children need more lessons in history and literature,” Malik said when Theron had finished speaking.

  “Among other things.”

  “I'm not sure why. Some of the parents will complain that they're pursuing those studies at the expense of more important parts of the curriculum.”

  Theron frowned as he stroked his short brown beard. “I thought you'd leap at the chance to design a new program for them,” the other teacher said. “It's at least as important as setting up your little lectures and discussions for Islanders and others—maybe more so.”

  Malik had to agree. He and Theron had often talked of the deficiencies in the curriculum. The children were largely taught skills and knowledge that had a practical end in view. Theron felt that they needed a broader base, a wider perspective from which to consider their own lives, more knowledge of the achievements and failures of the past, and the intellectual tools that would enable them to arrive at their own values and goals. In short, if they were to govern themselves, they needed to know how to think.

  Malik had not expected that his colleague was now ready to put his views into practice. Perhaps he had encouraged Theron too much by agreeing with him and pointing out that the power of the Mukhtars lay partly in their control of information and the education offered to the citizens of the Normachies.

  “You see what most of our charges will become,” Theron continued, “people who will do their work with a vague sense that it's worthwhile and contributes to the Project, and who measure their progress mostly by whatever credit or goods their households manage to attain. Oh, they think they're better off than they would be on Earth, but they couldn't say why. They believe our way has more to offer a human being than that of the Habbers, but they wouldn't be able to explain that either.”

  Malik leaned toward his small screen. “Most of them may not be capable of much more.”

  “Now you sound like an Earthman again. I thought you knew better by now. You've complained to me often enough. You've got a daughter, and you'd like to broaden her mental horizons, wouldn't you?”

  “Of course.” He refused to admit that he rarely discerned the mental spark in other children that he saw in Chimene. His child was better than the others; that was also an Earth-like thought.

  “They begin by being curious,” Theron said, “and then they learn to close their minds to things that don't appear useful, but they yearn for something we don't provide. They're too vulnerable to a group like Ishtar, which feeds their longings and resentments with its high-flown talk of a spirit that lives in us all and the perfect world we'll have. They don't even have the tools to assess the way Kichi Timsen distorts history in her talks. All they know is that, if it makes them feel better to believe it, then it must be true.”

  “I haven't noticed that Ishtar's made many inroads lately.” Malik looked away from Theron's image tor a moment. “Maybe we worry about them too much. I can't say that I care for their notions, but—”

  “What is it, Malik?” Theron tilted his head. “Is it the extra work? I know you'd earn more credit elsewhere, but you're the only teacher we have with enough education in these fields to set up a worthwhile program. I've discussed this with one of the Island Administrators, and she thinks it's worth pursuing, even if some object.”

  “People who think too freely and openly for themselves can be troublesome,” Malik replied, “as I've had ample reason to discover.”

  “This isn't Earth.”

  Malik smiled a little. Even if their students willingly accepted these intellectual offerings, the demands of their lives would force them to put such pursuits aside. Did Theron think that the children would leam how to reason their way to a clear-eyed acceptance of their lot? They might instead become more conscious of their limits here; perhaps some would begin to long for what the Habbers offered, as Malik did.

  “Do consider this,” Theron said. “It could be a real contribution.”

  A contribution I'm not making now, Malik thought. His lectures and seminars were only a minor intellectual recreation; his words, like Chen's carvings, were little more than toys to be amused by and to display to one's friends. He was no longer bitter about that; since his audience expected so little, he did not have to confront the issues and doubts that troubled him directly.

  But if he were to give his young students a meaningful experience, he would have to raise such issues and contend with them openly. He would have to be provocative, and some were certain to see t
hat as dangerous. His spirit warmed to the challenge for a brief instant and then faded. Time spent on this venture would have to be subtracted from the lectures that both earned him more credit and removed him, for a little while, from Risa's troubled glances and petulant complaints. Challenging his students to think for themselves and ask difficult questions might raise doubts about his loyalty to this new world—doubts that would, in a way, be justified.

  He had won a kind of peace for himself, even if it was only the peace of surrender. Better to keep what he had, win what he could for Chimene, and leave the future of this world to others.

  “I will think about it,” Malik said at last. He was committing himself to very little, and wondered if he could cleverly devise an innocuous program that would also satisfy Theron.

  “Good. Do come by when you want to discuss this further. You've done so well with the students you've taught.”

  Theron's image faded. He had failed his students already, whatever the other teacher thought; they mastered their lessons and little more.

  The door opened. “Something's wrong in the bathroom,” Risa said as she entered the room.

  “I know. I'll speak to Emilia.”

  “I put Chimene to bed. She claims you promised her a story, but I told her she'd just have to do without one. You didn't fool me, you know. You probably just happened to be in the main dome while Chimene was wandering around, and then you craftily cover up for her while telling me that I don't pay enough attention to her.”

  “She didn't do anything so wrong.”

  “She knows the rules,” Risa said, “and you're not setting a very good example by showing off in front of her.”

  “You're too hard on her.”

  Risa sat down on the bed. “You indulge her too much, Malik. I know she's young, but she has to learn that she can't always do what she likes. I don't want her to get the idea that she'll be treated any differently from anyone else.” She paused. “She told me you met someone today—a woman named Katya.”