The Shore of Women

by Pamela Sargent

  “You’re lying, Laissa.”

  I wanted to hit him. What good would his questions do? “I’m not lying. And you’ll forget all about us anyway, wait and see. They put a mindwasher on your head before you go, and you forget us, so there.”

  Button screamed. I had said the wrong thing.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” I shouted. He dived at me and pounded me with his fists; I slapped him. “If you’re going to act like that, go to your room.”

  “No!”

  “Yes!” I got to my feet and pushed him toward his door. He walked away stiffly, his head up.

  I picked up his puzzle and peered at the maze. I could not have solved that puzzle at his age, and yet Button had. I threw the puzzle onto the couch, then went to the study; I didn’t want to sit in my disorderly room, where I was still sorting out what I would take to Shayl’s.

  The door slid open. A light on the wall had lit up; someone was calling from outside the city. Our mindspeaker could pick up transmissions from any of the shrines outside, but Mother had long ago set it so that it would signal to her only when the brain pattern registered was that of my progenitor or my twin. My father had, according to Mother, already entered the wall, so my twin had to be calling.

  I had practiced on a mindspeaker often enough and knew some of the ritual for men, but had never spoken to one directly. I thought of the boy I barely remembered, wondering if he had been like Button. I went to the table, picked up the circlet, and put it on my head.

  A voice screamed at me; I felt an overwhelming fear. Somehow I found the modulator and pressed it. The voice softened.

  I closed my eyes and saw a tall young man stretched out on a couch. I tried to concentrate on what the mindspeaker was showing me, on the lifelike image it had created with the aid of the lenses and sensors in the shrine. Only the couch was visible to me. The young man’s shoulder-length, blond hair was matted and his even-featured face was dirty; his hands were covered by filthy leather gloves. He wore brown leather leggings and a coat of hide; the opened coat revealed a worn leather shirt.

  I reached out with one hand and felt his face, then drew back, telling myself that I was not actually touching this creature, that this was only an illusion. A memory came to me of a little boy who had sat at Mother’s feet with me, who had shoved me when Mother wasn’t looking, but who had also repaired one of my broken toys. I touched his cheek again, imagining how rough his skin must be, then pulled away.

  “What is it you want?” I asked, forgetting the ritual. “Why do you call Me?”

  “You must help me, Lady,” the young man said. His lips moved only a little as I picked up his subvocalized surface thoughts. He was saying that he was alone, that his guardian had left him to travel to a city, that his band had then traveled south with other men only to die under the beams of a city’s ships. “I am alone,” he finished. “Please help me, please tell me how I can find my guardian, Tal, again.”

  “Wait,” I said, then removed the circlet as I recalled what Eilaan had said about Devva. That city, it seemed, had acted, and this young man had been with the men Devva had attacked. I clasped my hands together. Mother had been accused of disobedience; I had been told by Bren that I doubted, and now my twin was telling me that he had narrowly escaped Devva’s action.

  The door behind me slid open. I spun around, startled. Mother waved at the light on the wall. “Laissa, what are you doing?”

  “My twin is calling you,” I said. “Devva’s destroyed that settlement of men they were so worried about.”

  “What does that have to do with him?”

  “He was there. He escaped.”

  Mother covered her mouth. “But his band roams the lands beyond our southern wall. He shouldn’t be so far south.”

  “He says that they traveled to that other place. He’s alone now. He says he wants to find his guardian.”

  “He means his father. The boy can’t live out there for long if he’s alone—men live in groups.” She went to the console and played back what the boy had told me, then scowled. “This isn’t good. I must think of what to do.”

  “I know I probably shouldn’t have talked to him, but I was careful. I. . .”

  “It’s all right, Laissa. Leave me alone now. I’ll speak to him.”

  I paced the outer chamber as I worried about what Mother might do now. At last she joined me, but she did not speak until she had taken a bottle of wine from the dispenser in our wall. Her hands shook as she poured wine into a glass.

  “I’ve called the boy here,” she said in a low voice. “If he’s strong enough to make the trip, he’ll be with his father again, and Button will have two males to look after him. They might find another tribe.”

  I folded my arms. “But he’s only seventeen. He’s young to be called, and he was with those men Devva attacked as well. You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I had no choice!” she said harshly. “The boy is alone. His father has no tribe now. Even with two males, Button’s chances won’t be good. With only his father, they’ll be much worse.” She gulped her wine and poured more. “I just hope the boy can get here. I’ll have to wait for him. It means I’ll have to keep Button a little longer.”

  “But Eilaan told you…”

  “I had to do it!” she shouted. “As it is, I may only be sending Button out to die. If only he could stay even a year or so longer. I know it’s wrong to think it, but I do.” She downed the wine and set the glass on a table.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” I said as calmly as I could. “You might have given Button to a man who has a group to return to.” I paused. “We’ll be disgraced.”

  She came to me and grabbed my shoulder; her fingers dug into me painfully. “This isn’t disobedience. This will test their strength. I haven’t violated my duty.” She seemed to be saying the words more to herself than to me. “If your twin can make such a journey alone, it will only show that he and those with his traits are strong and should survive to pass on those traits to future generations of women.”

  “That isn’t why you’re doing this, Mother. You could still send Button out with someone else.”

  “I’ve already promised his father a young one.” Her mouth twisted. “The Lady cannot break Her promise.”

  “You just want to hang on to him. You’ve gone mad. You’re still hoping some miracle will save him.”

  She turned away. Once again, she had endangered us both.

  ARVIL

  I kept to rocky or frozen ground, not wanting to leave many tracks. I spent part of the night in a tree and built no fire for warmth. The man and the boy were still following me the next morning, and they no longer troubled to conceal themselves. They were keeping well behind me, near the horizon to the south, but always in sight.

  I had some meat left in my pouch. Hunting near the home ground of other bands would be risky, and I could not look for food while being tracked. Why were they following me? They had to believe that I was heading back to my band, that they might be attacked if they followed me. Then I remembered Geab’s knife. The man might have seen it while my soul was with the Lady. A man would kill for such a weapon. The two might be waiting to fall upon me before I could join others.

  As I made my way through territory where I knew nothing of the nearby bands, I understood how alone I was. We had seen no bands while traveling south, but other men would have hidden themselves from a large band passing on horseback. A lone boy was an easy target. I held to my faith in the Lady, yet I had seen good men die before. I could not know Her will.

  A flock of sparrows had alighted on the snow in front of me. They hopped away, took to the air, and flew toward the sky. I thought of my band, lying dead on the plateau, and of their souls now flying toward the heavens. Would the Lady forgive them and accept them? Would She grant them the blessings in the next world that She allowed other living things in this one? Only death would bring us the happiness the sparrows and other creatures enjoyed in this life, for they dw
elled with females and their young, while we had only the boys given us by the Lady to raise. We were of the world, yet apart from it, and the sight of animals doing what we could not was one of our punishments for ancient sins.

  Once, we had been with the Lady, living in Her realm, and then we had been cast out. My loneliness was unbalancing me, for I was pondering this truth as I walked, hearing a voice inside me questioning it. Had we truly been of the spirit and then forced into our earthly bodies, as I had been told? Or had Earth borne us and given birth to us as She had to all other creatures? Where did the boys who left the enclaves come from?

  I tried to silence my questions, knowing that they would only lead to unholiness, but my mind’s voice persisted. Why did the Lady, knowing men were sinful, allow us to live? Why did She give us boys? There was a holy mystery here, and all the words I had heard from older men about the Lady granting us boys so that men would move closer to redemption did not answer my doubts.

  We needed the Lady, and She somehow needed us, too. That notion made me draw in my breath. “Silence,” I said aloud to my mind. I looked around hastily, afraid another might have heard, but saw only the patches of melting snow on the brown land that stretched to the horizon.

  I had picked up my pace. I strode quickly, then ran, then slowed to a rapid walk again. In the afternoon, I came to the edge of a wood. Bint had told me that there was a shrine to the east, just beyond this patch of forest, but we had not gone to it because it would have meant a half day’s travel out of our way. If I could get to that shrine, I would be safe for at least one night.

  I moved through the woods stealthily, wondering if I was still being followed. The man trailing me might not know about this shrine. I soon came to a pathway, seemingly well-traveled and with the recent marks of feet, that wound among the trees, and I guessed that it led to the shrine. My own trail would not be so obvious on this path, but I would also have to be careful to avoid other travelers. At one point, I heard distant voices and hid in a tree until I could hear them no more. It grew dark and harder for me to see; I was forced to move more slowly.

  It was night when I reached the edge of this wood. I was about to step from the trees and walk toward the shrine ahead when its door opened and I saw a group of shadows against the light. I rolled under a bush as the men walked toward me; twigs cracked as they passed by. I held my breath and was not discovered.

  Climbing to my feet, I sprinted toward the shrine and was panting by the time I reached it. The door opened, and I stumbled inside, shaking mud and snow from my boots. My stomach ached. I tried not to think of food. My meat would have to last for some time.

  I went to the altar. The Warrior dwelled in this shrine. She watched me from behind Her shield as I prayed, and then I went to a couch and donned the Lady’s crown. I called to Her, telling Her of my journey and asking for Her help in finding more food, but She did not speak.

  I was tired and drifted into drowsiness. I do not know how long I lay there. The whisper of the door made me start, and I sat up quickly, knowing that I had slept while wearing the circlet. As I took off the crown, the dark man and the boy glanced at me, then went to the altar.

  They had followed me here; I trembled with fear and rage. They finished their prayers, went to the couches, and put on circlets. I wanted to run from the shrine, but would be no safer outside. I waited until the man sat up and gazed at me.

  “We saw the signs of two bands along the way,” he said. “You didn’t join either.”

  I said nothing.

  “Maybe yours is farther away than you thought. Or maybe they are hiding from enemies. Or they’re dead, or they broke their bond with you for some reason, or they were forced to move their camp.” As he spoke, I was wondering where his own band was and why he and the boy were still alone.

  The man held up his hand, palm out. “Don’t look so angry. We are in a shrine—we cannot hurt each other here. There is always peace in Her presence. Truce.”

  The truce would be over once I stepped off holy ground. The man watched me for a while, then gestured to the boy, who opened his small pack and threw me a burnt bird’s wing.

  I gnawed at the wing, sucking on the bones after devouring the meat. The man gave me another wing, and I finished that one, too.

  “Truce?” he said again.

  “Truce,” I answered. “Where is your band?”

  The boy narrowed his eyes. The man plucked at his thick, curly beard, scratched his head, and then said, “You are alone, are you not? You must speak the truth here.”

  “You must promise me that there will be peace between us when we leave.” I turned toward the statue of the Warrior. “Swear it, by Her.”

  Both raised their hands and promised peace, and I swore peace as well. We were now bound by our vow, for we had made it before the Lady.

  “I am alone,” I admitted, telling myself that they would not have offered food and then sworn an oath if they meant harm. “The rest of my band is dead.” I sent up a silent prayer to the Lady. I could not lie in a shrine, yet could not admit to these two that I had narrowly escaped Her wrath. “But my guardian, Tal, was not with my band when they died, because he was called to an enclave. I’m going to him now. I prayed to the Lady at the shrine where you first met me, and She called me to Her, and now I am traveling north to find Tal.”

  “What is your name?” the man asked.

  “Arvil.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It is an old name—the meaning is lost.”

  “I am Wanderer. I had another name once, but that is how I am known now. The boy is Shadow, because he follows me. I guessed that you had no band near here, for the men in these parts have a different tongue.”

  “Where is your band?”

  “You see it here.” He waved a hand at Shadow. “We travel by ourselves.”

  “But that cannot be.”

  “We are here, are we not?” Wanderer reclined on one elbow. “I lost my band as a boy. Since then, I’ve been alone, but I have made peace with many groups. They find me useful because I know the speech and ways and lore of others and can be a messenger or go-between when there is ill feeling between bands. I have dwelled with and hunted with many groups of men, and I have traveled far and can entertain them with tales of my adventures. I have even aided some bands in treating with others so that they do not fight over a herd or a territory. But I have no band of my own.”

  “The Lady cannot approve.”

  “I am here, saying it before Her. I have been called three times to an enclave, and Shadow was given to me. The Goddess has not condemned me.”

  I shook my head, trying to accept this tale. “What do you want with me? Why did you follow me?”

  “Because I suspected that you were alone when I first saw you in the Witch’s shrine. I spoke to you in the northern tongue, and you understood and answered me in it. You had been called, and that means you must be especially loved of the Goddess, for one so young is rarely called. Then I wondered how you had come south, for I was certain you could not have made the journey by yourself. What could it be that brought your band south in winter? It could not be a hunt, for you would stay on familiar ground during this season with stored food, to save your strength, and move on in the spring.” He leaned forward. “I have guessed. Your band sought to join those behind the wall on the plateau.” He watched me calmly. “Am I right?”

  I refused to answer.

  “I saw the judgment from below. The fire blazed brightly. But you escaped somehow and then were called, so the Goddess has pardoned you. You should have nothing to fear from Her, and Shadow and I will do you no harm.”

  “But why did you follow me?”

  “I grow older,” Wanderer said. “I now need a band, for an old traveler will be of little use to strangers. And you are alone, so you need me. I think we should travel together.”

  “I must go to the enclave first and find Tal.” As I spoke his name, I felt again how much I missed him.


  “We can travel with you for part of the way. When you find your guardian and come outside, we can become a band if he wishes. If not, we still have our truce. But I think he will agree. After all, he has no band now.”

  “I must sleep,” I said, “and consider this.”

  “Very well.” He murmured a few words to Shadow, then stretched out, his back to me.

  I did not know what to think of his offer. A stranger was saying he would help me, yet my band had always distrusted strangers, and those strangers we had followed had led my band only to death. The Lady had decreed since the beginning of time that only the strong would live and the weak would die, yet here was a man ready to help someone weaker—for I was weaker, whatever blessings the Lady had bestowed on me.

  I would have to travel with Wanderer and Shadow. Tal could decide whether we would be a band later. I knew that without Wanderer’s help, I was unlikely to reach my guardian.

  The next morning, I accepted Wanderer’s offer, and we shared most of what was left of my meat. We said our prayers together and put on the circlets once more. The Lady said nothing to me or to Shadow, but Wanderer was given a visitation. As he thrashed about, I recalled my own visitation and longed for another. When Wanderer rose from the couch, he glanced at Shadow and shook his head. I knew by that gesture that he had not been called.

  We left the shrine and went north, then turned west, skirting the wood, until we were again following the route I had traveled with Bint. We turned north again and soon came upon a snare in which a rabbit was struggling.

  As I took out my metal knife, Wanderer grabbed my hand. “No. I know this kind of snare—a band I have treated with near here set it. We must leave it for them.”