Venus of Dreams

by Pamela Sargent

  What would Chen think when he saw her? When sending her messages to him, she had been careful to conceal her body behind her desk or in voluminous blouses and frocks. Her pregnancy had deformed her small body; her belly had become her most noticeable feature. Her legs and ankles had grown thicker; she could lift herself from a chair only with difficulty.

  Chen’s messages to her had been as brief as hers to him. She knew that some men, however proud they might be of siring a child, avoided the women who carried their babies until the children were safely born. Chen might share their revulsion. Worse still, what if he were having second thoughts about being her bondmate, and wanted to break the contract? She could hardly fight him without making the bond public and bringing shame on her household. She might be trapped here, without a bond and with a small child to care for and no chance of leaving Lincoln. She should never have agreed to have this child; she had put her life into Chen’s hands.

  She walked toward a chair that had been set under the tree for her and sat down heavily. The door leading into the kitchen opened; she averted her face, afraid to look up. The air was still; the summer sunlight shone through the shield overhead.

  A shadow fell across her lap.

  “Iris.”

  She lifted her head. Chen stood in front of her, alone. She glanced toward the doorway. LaDonna and Sheryl were standing there, apparently waiting to be beckoned into the courtyard. Iris waved them away and the door closed.

  “I missed you,” Chen said. “You don’t know how much. I wanted to tell you in my messages, but I was afraid the others might see them, that I’d give something away. I was afraid if I said anything, I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

  “I missed you too,” she said, searching his face and seeing only warmth and concern. “I almost —” She had been about to say that she was growing to love him in the way that he loved her. She pushed that thought from her mind; she was only relieved that she had not lost him.

  He sat down on the ground next to her, and leaned against one leg of her chair. “They gave me a month here. I’ll have a little work to do, and I can carve. I’ll be here when our son’s born.” He reached for her hand. “I wish there’d been another way, that I could’ve stayed with you the whole time. I worry, I don’t like putting you through this. I wish you could have even had the child the way the Habbers do, instead of having your body —”

  “You think I’m ugly,” she said sadly.

  “Oh, no. How could you ever be ugly? I just don’t want to see you in pain.” He reached up and rested one hand against her abdomen; the child kicked inside her. “I love you.”

  “I didn’t know if you still would. You loved someone else once. I thought you might have changed your mind about me.”

  “I only thought I loved her. I’ll always feel something for Tonie, but she told me I’d find someone I loved more. I can talk to you, you share my dream — even more than she did. You risk a lot for me.”

  “I took the risk for what I want. I can’t deceive you, Chen. Don’t deceive yourself.”

  “Love can grow.”

  “I’m afraid.” She could admit it to him. “I know that we both have our secrets. What if I can never feel as strongly for you as you do for me? You might lose your love for me then. You might decide to go back to the Islands alone and find a woman who can share your kind of love.”

  He slipped his hand into hers. “Never. Is that what you think of me, that I’d bring you to this and then leave you? I couldn’t do that.”

  “I wish I could feel the way you do, have the same love,” she said. “Everything I’ve been taught tells me it’s impossible, but I wish I could feel it anyway. I don’t want to hurt you, and I’m afraid I will.”

  “If you feel that, then you share some of my love already. I won’t ask for any more.”

  She tried to stand. Chen leaped to his feet and helped her to rise. “You’ve been tormenting yourself,” he went on. “I should have been here, to ease things for you. I’ll make it up to you, you’ll see.”

  A few members of the household had gathered in the common room to gossip and share some after-dinner whiskey. Angharad was discussing the coming harvest with Julia and Elisabeth while Chen sat with Eric on the sofa, listening to the young man’s plans. Eric was planning to acquire what he grandly called “commissions” for Chen’s carvings; he had already received enough requests to keep Chen busy for months. Above the two men hung a holo landscape of pine-covered mountains; the scent of pine filled the room.

  Iris knew that she should be content. Eric had curbed his drinking, and his new business was bringing him more credit. Angharad had been gentle with Iris, easing her fears about childbirth; she never mentioned Iris’s secret pledge and almost seemed to be oblivious of it. Chen had reaffirmed his promise to her. Yet she was still restless, still fearful of what might befall her.

  “Listen to me, Eric,” Elisabeth said from the corner nearest the window. “I don’t want Chen promising anything until he finishes my carving.”

  “It’s almost done,” Chen said.

  “Unfortunately,” Eric said, “I won’t make anything from that one.”

  Chen shrugged. “What I do for this house is a gift.”

  Iris had seen the carving of Elisabeth’s face; Chen had given her visage a look of bovine passivity. Elisabeth had sneaked into Iris’s room for a look at the piece, and had seemed delighted. No one else saw what Iris perceived in the carvings. Chen had not yet carved one of her, saying that he doubted his ability to capture her. She was not sure that she wanted him to carve her, afraid of what she might see.

  The screen hummed. Angharad turned toward it. A woman’s image appeared. Her hair was silver, a gem glittered on her forehead, and her gray eyes had the fixed, penetrating stare of a Linker.

  “Greetings,” the woman said.

  Angharad sat up quickly, smoothing her green tunic; Elisabeth patted her hair. “Greetings,” Angharad said tentatively. Iris cupped one hand over her protruding abdomen, wondering what the Linker could want.

  “You are Angharad Julias, the head of this household, are you not?” the Linker asked. Angharad nodded. “I wish to speak to your daughter, Iris Angharads.”

  Iris started; her fingers curled around the arms of her chair. The Linker might know everything about her; perhaps she would be forced to break her bond with Chen. She heard footsteps behind her as Constance entered the room, then stopped at Iris’s side.

  “What has she done now?” Angharad cried out as she glanced apprehensively at her daughter.

  “Something most praiseworthy. She has demonstrated curiosity and the willingness to learn, as well as some aptitude. The Nomarchies need such people. Do you understand? She has been chosen. If she accepts the opportunity we offer, she will be sent to a school and given the chance to learn even more.”

  “Mother of God,” Constance blurted out. A muscular man, Constance’s guest, had followed her into the room; the slim blond woman grabbed his hand. “Did you hear that, Allard?” The man grunted, looking bewildered.

  Iris’s child was kicking inside her. “Where would I be sent?” she asked hoarsely, unable to believe what she had heard.

  “We’ve looked at your records. It’s been decided that you should go to the Cytherian Institute in Caracas. It’s a very special school, designed to train people for the Venus Project.”

  Iris was too startled to speak. The news was too much for her to absorb; not only had she been chosen but she would also be sent to the place where she would have the greatest chance to have what she wanted.

  “Yes, indeed,” the Linker continued. “We need people who share our devotion to that Project. Your studies show your interest in it, and some of those trained at the Cytherian Institute may be among the first settlers. Those who do well at that school will be rewarded with the chance to work on Anwara or the Islands.”

  The baby kicked again. Iris closed her eyes for a moment, suddenly aware of her dilemma. “But I’m going
to have a child. How can I take it to a school?” Anger rushed through her; the chance she had longed for and had never expected to get had come to her, and Chen and the child soon to be born would keep her from taking it.

  The Linker leaned forward, resting one arm gracefully on the small glass table next to her. “Surely you don’t want to reject the opportunity we’ve offered you. Can’t others care for your child?” The woman’s voice was smooth, without inflection. “Believe me, I sympathize with you, but there are others in your household, and the child’s father can be given time to visit it. Your student’s allowance will allow you enough credit to send messages to the child when it’s older. I’ll leave such arrangements to you, but if you accept, you must be ready to leave your home by the beginning of next year. And think of the child. The love and care of a parent are important, but so are other things. You can give your child greater opportunities. In time, you can give it the chance to be part of a new world. Those in your household can give the child the attention it needs.” The woman smiled. “You’ll have time to consider these matters while we draw up a student’s contract for you. I’ll call back in a week for your answer.”

  The image vanished. Julia had a look of triumph on her face. Angharad twisted her tunic in her hands, looking confused.

  “Chosen!” Constance cried, grabbing Allard by the shoulder. “It just shows you. Even people like us can be chosen. I always knew Iris was clever, I always knew she’d get somewhere.” Iris gazed at the woman sourly, trying to recall when Constance had ever made that assertion. “Oh, my. Lincoln’ll talk about this for weeks. I’m going to call everybody.” She raced into the hall; Allard hesitated, then followed her. “Iris has been chosen!” Constance shouted as her feet pounded toward her wing of the house; Iris could not make out Lilia’s distant response.

  Angharad leaned back in her seat; her face was slack. “I’d like to speak to my daughter and the father of her child alone,” she said in a weak voice. “I’m sure the rest of you will want to spread this news.” Elisabeth got up and left the room with Julia; Eric shot Iris a grin as he passed her. The door closed.

  My child, Iris thought. I’m being tested — they want to see if I’m willing to leave my child to do this, if I have the strength. She had thought that Linkers valued the bond between a parent and child, and perhaps they did, in their way. The Linker would tell her that she would show her son more love by thinking of the future she could provide for him as a member of the Project, instead of clinging to him when he was born. Maybe the Linker already suspected that Iris had seen Chen’s child as her way out of Lincoln, and would leave him willingly.

  Chen got up and moved to Iris’s side, taking her hand. “I don’t know what to say to you now,” Angharad murmured. “Earth has reached out for you. You’ll be lifted above us and given a life I can’t share.”

  Iris opened her mouth, about to utter a protest.

  Angharad waved a hand. “No, child. Don’t start saying things you don’t mean. Don’t tell me that this won’t change your feelings for us. It will. You always wanted something else, and now you’ll have it.”

  “Do you mean I should go away?” Iris asked.

  “Of course you must. How can you ask that? There isn’t a commune in Lincoln that would hold a chosen one back, whatever their feelings. I can’t stand against the Nomarchies’ plans for you. You’ve beaten me completely at last.”

  “It isn’t a defeat,” Iris said.

  “I tried to do what I thought was best, but there was a part of you I could never reach. That Linker said you might go to that other world. She wouldn’t have thought of training you for such a place unless she knew it was what you wanted, that your wishes would make their investment worthwhile. She admitted that herself.”

  Iris could not deny that.

  “You lied to me about your reasons for wanting a bond with Chen here. You said it was for the sake of your son. Now, I see that you wanted it for yourself as well. You were getting ready for the time when you would leave with him, you were trying to find a way to leave us all along. Perhaps it’s best that you leave this way, with some position and honor.”

  “Mother, I —”

  “Why don’t you smile?” Angharad’s voice shook. “Why don’t you celebrate this news? You should be happy.”

  Iris pressed her lips together. Angharad wanted her to show her joy, yet at the same time seemed determined to rob her of much of it.

  “The signs were always there. God was showing me your destiny, and I refused to see it.” Angharad continued in this vein for a bit as Iris listened unhappily. Her mother had never sounded quite like this before; she was speaking as though she were already an old woman facing death instead of a young one with most of her life ahead of her.

  “Be happy for her,” Chen said during a break in Angharad’s mutterings. “I never dreamed this would happen. You’re still young, Angharad — you can have another daughter.”

  Angharad shook her head. “No. My branch of this family line has ended here, and must continue somewhere else. The Counselor will tell me that Lilia is capable of running the farm, and her mother is my cousin, so at least that branch may continue for a time.”

  Angharad went on, speaking of lines and branches and ancestors in her flat, despairing voice, until Iris could no longer bear it. “Mother!” she cried.

  “Don’t try to comfort me. You think that, because I have no learning, I can’t understand the world. You hid your dreams from me, and yet you think I never hid my thoughts from you. I know that the Plains will change, I’ve seen it coming these past years. This generation has fewer children, and there’ll be fewer in the next. I’ve seen the signs. I denied them for a long time, but I can’t any more. Oh, I thought that at least our line would live on here, that we’d find a way through this, but it isn’t so. Some day, this farm will pass into other hands, and your children on that other world will forget me.”

  “I won’t let them forget you,” Iris said.

  “Oh, Iris, how can they not forget? They won’t see what we’ve built here. Our line will be only a list of names to them.” Angharad lifted her eyes and gazed at Chen. “How proud you are. I see it in your eyes, in the way you stand, as if you’ve been chosen yourself. Beware, Chen. Iris may feel, one day, that you’re the one holding her back, and then she’ll cast you off too. She’ll see you the way she’s come to see me.”

  “It isn’t true,” Iris said. “Don’t say that.”

  Angharad’s lip curled. “You think you know so much. There’s still a lot for you to learn. When you have a child of your own, you’ll see.” Her voice broke. “Pray that he doesn’t cut at your heart as you have at mine.”

  |Go to Table of Contents |

  Fifteen

  Iris’s memories of her labor faded after her son was born. Dimly, she recalled how she had walked the floor of her room, clinging to Angharad’s strong arms while the small scanner Letty had brought to the house hummed as it monitored the birth. There had been no reason for the physician herself to be present, no sign that Iris’s delivery would be anything but normal, but all of the household’s women had been with her to aid the birth. Chen, against his wishes, had been barred from the room. Angharad had not cared what his customs or feelings were in this case; birthing was women’s business, and she would not risk a possible curse on her grandchild by having a man present at such a time.

  Iris lost the memory of her pain, but remembered her mother catching the child and placing him on her chest while Constance bathed him with warm water in the darkened room before cutting the cord. She had gazed at the tiny, wizened creature with his shock of straight dark hair, thinking hazily of how soon she would have to leave him. She would have some time to nurse him and care for him, but she had wondered if it might have been kinder to leave him immediately; it would only be harder later.

  A month after the baby’s birth, the priest arrived in Lincoln, making her rounds of the towns in that part of the Plains, and Iris, fo
llowing her mother’s wishes, took her son Benzi to the church to be christened. The priest told Iris about the child she had borne before she had taken her vows; she said nothing about the boy’s odd name, which Chen had given to him in honor of an old friend, but she was startled when Iris said he would be known as Benzi Liangharad instead of as Benzi Irises.

  “I want him to carry his grandmother’s name,” Iris said firmly, ignoring the old priest’s disapproving eyes. She said nothing about the fact that Benzi would carry his father’s name as well. It no longer mattered what anyone thought; she would be leaving.

  Before the baptism, Angharad and Wenda had taken Benzi to the edge of the fields to be blessed by a group of the town’s Spiritists; not knowing what might befall the boy in the future, Angharad wanted to be sure he would be protected by all the gods. She had prevailed upon a visiting man who followed another of the Plains’ faiths to pray for the child; she would have taken Benzi to the Muslims to be circumcised if Chen had not vigorously forbidden it.

  Iris had expected the townsfolk to treat her as they treated other young mothers, but few came to her house to praise the healthy baby, or to bring her gifts and offer advice. Those who did seemed too deferential; they rarely gossiped in front of her, or stayed long to talk. She had been chosen; people were uneasy around her. She had brought honor to the town, and the communes were happy to take credit for her accomplishments, praising themselves for having such talent in their midst. They treated her with respect, but they were already withdrawing from one who would no longer be part of their community.

  Iris rarely left her son’s side that fall. She carried him everywhere in her sling, letting him nestle against her heart. The women in her household murmured approvingly about her devotion, surprised at how little time she wanted to herself.