Venus of Shadows

by Pamela Sargent

  “No jokes, please.” Amina smiled as she raised one hand. “I've heard them all, believe me.”

  The pilots stood to one side, near another cradled airship, pointedly ignoring the group. They would stay in the pilots’ dormitory just outside the bay with any others who were here and avoid Turing's residents as much as possible. There were usually no more than ten pilots in Turing at any one time, and all of them had permanent residences elsewhere. If these pilots were like the others, they would keep to the area around the dormitory while impatiently awaiting the day they could leave.

  Dyami adjusted his duffel. “Need any help?”

  Suleiman shook his head. “You go ahead and show Amina around.”

  The woman lifted her duffel to her shoulder. “Good to have you with us,” Allen said before bending down to pick up a crate.

  The main dome was already darkening as Dyami and Amina left the bay. A wide road bisected the settlement; the land was so flat that the entrance to the tunnel on the other side was dimly visible. The refinery, a long, low, thick-walled metallic structure, stood on the right side of the road; to the left was the large glassy dome that housed the ceramics plant. The two buildings dominated the landscape, dwarfing the people who were leaving them and making their way to the main road.

  “I've seen images of those buildings,” Amina said, “but they seem a lot more impressive when you're actually standing in front of them. We ought to get someone to make a mind-tour of this place.”

  Dyami gazed to his right, where a door in the wall below the dome was opening; carts began to roll out of the small bay up a ramp toward the refinery. He pointed at a square structure just beyond the door. “External operations,” he said. “We've got a couple of teams who tend to that, but a lot of us have learned enough to take over once in a while.”

  A small wilderness of trees covered the land behind the ceramics plant. A cat scurried across the path, moving toward the forest. Dyami took a breath. He had begun to take Turing's spaciousness for granted before his return to the more crowded environs of Oberg; he welcomed the scent of grass and the silence broken only by the distant twittering of birds.

  “We all live in the north dome,” he told Amina. “Originally, the idea was to leave this dome for industrial installations and build houses elsewhere.”

  “So I heard.”

  “No passenger carts here. We can wait for Allen and Suleiman, or we can walk.”

  “Let's walk.”

  They strolled the long distance between the refinery and the ceramics plant. Amina studied the buildings in silence as they passed, then said, “No one told me where I was to live, and I don't know anyone here. I asked if I should bring a tent, but was told there'd be room for me somewhere.”

  “We're kind of informal about arrangements,” he responded. “You can use one of the tents here until you find something else, or you can go to the women's shelter—they'll have at least a couple of empty rooms. You'll be meeting people in the dining hall, though—maybe one of them will offer you another place to stay.”

  “I see.” She sounded a little worried. He looked down at her; Amina's pretty face was set in a frown. Maybe she shared some of his shyness, in spite of her open manner during their journey. He recalled how he had felt when he first arrived in Turing. The people he met had been friendly enough, but he had sensed that they wanted to assess him before offering him a place in one of their residences. He had lived in a tent for a while; in the end, he had decided it might be best to live alone.

  “Maybe you can stay with me, just until you decide where to go,” he said. “It isn't much—just a small room where I sleep and a slightly larger one to entertain any visitors. But I don't have many guests, so you can have that room to yourself.”

  Her steps slowed. “I'd better make one thing clear,” she murmured. “I'm an affront to Ishtar. I've tried to offend the Spirit whenever I've been lucky enough to have the opportunity. I'm not interested in men—that's another reason I came here. I was told people here don't care about that, whether they share my inclinations or not, and that Habbers are indifferent to such things.”

  “You're being very honest.”

  “If I can't be honest here, there's no hope. If this is just another place where I have to sneak around and lie, then there's no freedom for Cytherians anywhere. I can't live that way anymore—I'd rather not live at all. I have to believe there are some sane people left who can reclaim our world when this madness is past.”

  Dyami was silent.

  “I'm not wrong, am I?” she asked. “It is different here, isn't it?”

  “Yes, it's different.” He stepped in front of her, forcing her to halt. “You don't have to lie, and you don't have to worry about me. I'm an offender against Ishtar myself. Women are friends to me—no more.”

  He felt as if a weight had been lifted from him, one he had carried for so long that he had forgotten it was there. Even his fear had receded; he would live as he wanted to, for as long as he could remain here.

  Amina gaped at him, then threw back her head and laughed. “And you the Guide's brother! No wonder you came here. But I shouldn't laugh.” She hooked her arm around his as they walked on. “It must have been even worse for you.”

  “It was. Until right now I couldn't have said that to you.” He lifted his head, inhaling the clean air of Turing.

  “No patrols!” she said, and laughed again. “No sashes, no meetings, no obnoxious believers trying to convince you of the truth!” They went down a slope and entered the tunnel.

  * * * *

  Dyami was home. This was his home—not Oberg, not the house where he had grown up and had learned to be wary and distrustful. Here the land sloped gently, flattening out around the large lake in the center of the dome. Ahead of him, in a wide hollow between two small hills, a few tents and several tidy square structures that were little more than shacks were clustered around the large dining hall. The men's and women's dormitories lay a little to the east, on flatter grassland bordering a creek; a pale gray building near them housed a lavatory.

  He pointed them all out to Amina. “You can't see it, but there's a smaller lavatory just past those tents, behind the hill.”

  “I guess they weren't exaggerating when they called this place primitive.”

  “Sorry you came?” he asked.

  “Of course not.”

  A group of people entered the dining hall; he heard a snatch of music before the door closed. “What was that sound?” Amina asked.

  “Music. A few people set up a system so we could enjoy music during meals. Some of it's composed by people here. We use the wall screen in the hall to display landscapes or for the more artistic among us to show off their graphic designs. That's the only wall screen we've got over here—the others are in the main dome's buildings. A lot of the shacks don't have toilets, and the doors don't have palm-print locks or any locks at all, and the rooms in the shelters won't hold much more than a mat, but we have music and graphics in the dining hall. Never let it be said that we don't take care of the necessities.”

  He led her toward the creek, past the dormitories and the lavatory. A few more shacks had been built just above the creek, near a flat wooden bridge that led to the other side. Dyami gestured at two large buildings that sat above the opposite bank. “The Habbers live there.”

  “They look the same as your dormitories.”

  “They are, and we all share the dining hall. The Habbers take their turns preparing meals, working in the greenhouse, and cleaning the lavatories just like the rest of us.”

  “Seems to me Ishtar might profit by your example.”

  They walked along the creek until they had reached the last shack. Dyami lifted the latch and pushed the door open. “My home.” The term came to him easily now. “I've put in a toilet, and a pipe brings water up to my sink from the creek, but you'll have to shower in one of the lavatories—the Habbers won't mind if you use one of theirs. You can clean your clothes in the laundry o
f the women's dorm.”

  “You might have provided yourselves with a few more conveniences.”

  “We do have our priorities,” he said. “Music for the dining hall and setting aside time to discuss stellar evolution are clearly more important.”

  Amina entered the shack. He followed, leaving the door open, then knelt to turn on the small light resting on the floor. The globe illuminated a space not much larger than his old room in Oberg; a curtain concealed his toilet and sink. Another curtain hung in front of the space where he slept; a rolled-up mat was near the door. “You can use the mat if you like,” Dyami said, “but now that you've seen this, you may prefer the dormitory.”

  “It looks roomy to me. I had to share a room with my sister for quite a few years.” Amina looked toward one corner. “What's this?” She sat down, leaned over, and picked up a small metal bust that showed the head of a man. His cheekbones were a sharp ridge below his wide-set eyes; his short hair curled softly over his forehead. She touched the narrow nose lightly. “Where did you get it?”

  “I made it,” he replied. “I made the mold and cast it over at the refinery after a shift. It's a hobby I took up after I came here—a couple of friends showed me how—but it was months before I could manage anything that looked the way it was supposed to. I've done a few, but I gave the others away.”

  “Is he someone you know?”

  He looked down. “A Habber named Balin.”

  “Dyami!” Luinne Mitsuo was standing in the doorway, holding a light wand; he beckoned the small woman inside. “And you must be Amina Astarte.”

  “Greetings,” Amina said as she set the bust down.

  “I'm Luinne Mitsuo—I'm one of the geologists. Are you going to be staying here?”

  “For a while—at least as long as Dyami wants to put up with me.”

  “I'd offer you a place in my shack, but he's got more room than I do. I was just on my way to the dining hall—I assume you two haven't had time to eat yet.”

  “No.” Amina stood up, leaving her duffel on the floor. “And I'm starving.”

  “You two go ahead,” Dyami said. “My mother and her housemate Kolya insisted on plying me with a feast before I left. If I get hungry, I'll go to the hall later.”

  “How long will you be up?” Amina asked.

  “You won't disturb me even if I'm asleep, so come back whenever you like. No patrols, remember?”

  The two women left. Dyami sat and stared at the bust. Balin would not be at the dining hall now; he usually ate early; or else made a meal of some leftovers before going to bed. He got up and went in search of his friend.

  * * * *

  A Habber at one of the dormitories told him that Balin had gone for a walk by the lake. Dyami headed in that direction, following the creek past the large greenhouse.

  A mower was moving over the grassy plain, followed by a weeding machine. Dyami marched rapidly; his heart was beating more quickly against his chest. He passed another bridge where the creek widened a little, climbed a small rise, and looked out over the lake.

  The silence was broken only by the low hum of the mower behind him. The lake was black where it met the shore and silver where the dome light shone down on the water. To the east, near the wood that bordered the lake on that side, he saw a man walking and recognized Balin's slender form.

  He hurried over the rocky shore, nearly losing his footing a couple of times before he reached the softer ground under the trees. “Balin,” he called out.

  The man turned, then walked toward him. “Dyami?”

  “I just got back a little while ago.” Maybe Balin was not particularly anxious to see him; perhaps he wanted to be by himself. “I was told you'd come here.”

  Balin clasped his hands. “I'm pleased you came back. I was wondering if you would.”

  “And why wouldn't I?”

  “You might have asked for more time off or asked the people here to find a replacement. Others have done so, to make their peace with the people they left.”

  “That isn't what I want,” Dyami said. “I kept wishing to be back here.”

  Balin seated himself under a tree. “And how was your visit?”

  Dyami hesitated, then sat down next to the Habber. “Not what I expected. My parents were having a problem, but I think they're on the way to resolving it. I managed to avoid my sister for the most part. I saw some old friends. I'm sure I must have mentioned my old schoolmate, Teo Lingard, to you. He wanted me to stay and become part of his household.”

  He could not see Balin's face in the shadows. He thought of how he had shaped the mold for his bust, how he had imagined his hands on Balin's high cheekbones, cupping his face, touching his narrow lips. “And did he tempt you to stay?”

  “No, not really. Teo has to hide what he is there. I didn't tell you that about him before. He loves men, but he's found a way to live with that and conceal it while doing as he likes. I knew I couldn't do the same.”

  “Why would you—”

  “Because I'm like Teo.” He shuddered and caught his breath. “I've always been that way.” It was easier to admit it in the darkness, clothed in shadows. “I think Teo loved me once, but I was too frightened to accept anything more than some sex when my need grew too great. I told myself it was better if I didn't love anyone.”

  “And you were afraid to tell me this? But my people have never felt the way yours do about such things.”

  “I didn't want your pity,” Dyami said. “I didn't want to lose your friendship when I knew that was all I could have, and I couldn't risk driving you away by wanting more. I love you, Balin—I know that now.”

  He was about to rise, then felt a hand on his arm. “Don't go, Dyami.”

  “You needn't worry. I'll never say it again.”

  “But didn't you ever think that I might feel the same way?” Balin asked. “I've wanted to be closer to you, but I also thought I might sacrifice our friendship if I admitted it. I didn't want to make a mistake. Even Cytherians who show some friendliness to us might reject such advances.”

  Dyami swallowed. “Your people—you could have changed yourselves so that none of you would be like me. I used to wonder if you had and pitied us because we couldn't. I thought all those stories about how Habbers would practice any vice were all lies.”

  “Why would we change anything like that—a natural variation in behavior and response? We never felt the need. The longer we live the more aware we become of the range of responses any individual might have. Many of us here have come to prefer the satisfactions of thought and contemplation, but I find I need others as well. When I feel love, should I welcome it only for a woman and not a man?”

  Balin's arms were around him. His fear was gone. Dyami lifted his hands and touched the face he had molded as Balin's lips found his.

  Twenty-six

  The door closed behind Chimene. She glanced around the empty common room of her house, trying to recall the last time she had been alone. Someone was always with her—a fellow teacher, her students, housemates, members of the patrol whenever she wanted to walk at night, people seeking her advice or simply wanting to be near her. Even when she slept, Boaz or Matthew was always at her side.

  She had gone to her mother's house to wish Risa a happy new year before returning to the main dome to put in an appearance at the largest of the celebrations. She had planned to visit the other two domes as well, but a sudden listlessness and urge for solitude had driven her back here. Two volunteers from the patrol had followed her, but she had dismissed them at the door.

  Now she was beginning to regret being alone; it allowed disturbing thoughts to enter her mind, doubts about her faith and worries over whether she was doing what was good. Was the Spirit still guiding her? She could no longer tell; lately, the Spirit seemed to speak to her with the voices of Matthew and Boaz. The two men heard Her clearly; she wondered why she could not.

  Solitude also brought too many thoughts of Sef. He had continued to come to meetings
at her house for a while even after she had stopped inviting him to share the rite there. She had told herself that her love for him was inhibiting her love for others; instead of bringing him closer to the right way, she had dreamed of having him to herself. She had kept away from him, certain that once her struggle with herself was past, his love for her would bring him to seek her out. But he had not come to her, and then he had stopped attending her meetings. Every time she visited his household, Sef spoke with her impersonally and even seemed relieved when she was leaving.

  Perhaps he no longer loved her. Maybe others she thought she had won did not love her any more, in spite of all her efforts. She sank onto a cushion and bowed her head.

  The door opened; Matthew walked toward her. “I saw you coming back here,” he said. “Is anything wrong?”

  “Just tired, that's all.”

  “Too tired to welcome the year of 628?”

  She shrugged. “It's Earth's calendar, not ours. It's merely a convention until we devise our own. There's no need to make more of it than it is.”

  “Ah, but people do enjoy an excuse for a festival.” The blond man sat down next to her. “Besides, this won't be just another new year—it marks the beginning of a new phase in our history, when some of our efforts will come to fruition.”

  It was so. They would be rid of the Habbers at last. All of the settlement Councils were in agreement—not surprisingly, since members of the fellowship held those positions. The long-awaited referendum would be called, and there was no doubt that a large majority of the settlers would vote to expel the Habbers from the settlement in the Freyja Mountains. The pilots who traveled to Turing had been useful in spreading rumors about the growing friendliness and closer ties that were forming between the Cytherians and Habbers in that settlement, and this had fueled the suspicions of many. Others would vote for expulsion only so that they would not be on record in support of this world's enemies. Secrecy in voting, as in other things, did not serve Ishtar.