I was among those we served, those over whom the Mothers of the City watched. Here a girl could grow to maturity in a household of women, could pursue what art or craft she liked. When it was time to have her children, she would go to the wall and, with the advice of a geneticist, choose a man’s seed based on his characteristics and traits. She would never have to call a man to the wall or communicate with him over a mindspeaker. She would never have to think of the outside or concern herself with what lay out there. Whatever children she had would be daughters; she would never have to bear a son and take him to the wall. She would grow old among a community of women, a house filled with others like herself.
Theirs was a carefree, placid life, and yet it was possible only because of what my kind did. My friends and I had lived among such girls in the dormitories; we had learned how to cooperate and to share, while they had learned how to live outside their close, affectionate households for a time. I had made friends with a few such girls, had encouraged those who seemed curious or quick to work at the lessons through which, if a girl shows promise, she can win a place among the Mothers of the City. Now, as I glanced at their smiling faces and heard their cheerful babble, I wondered why any of them would want to be like us.
For a moment, it seemed that the punishment of being sent here to live as one of these women might in fact be a blessing. But even they would scorn a disgraced woman. I could not become one of them; I was condemned to be what I was.
I came to a playground below the towers overlooking this part of the city. I was near Zoreen’s rooms. I hurried along the playground’s winding path and came to her tower’s entrance. Zoreen had chosen to live here, as far from the city’s center as she could move.
Her rooms were at the top of this tower. She lived alone, and no one was with her that evening. She seemed surprised to see me as I entered and watched me without expression as I crossed the room, then said, “Whatever brings you here?”
“I had a fight with my mother.”
She cleared a space among the papers and books on her couch so that I could sit down. “Can’t say I’m surprised,” she said. “I know she’s had problems lately.”
I told her a little of what had happened as she gazed at me impassively. “I can’t live with Shayl now,” I finished, “and I really don’t feel like going home.”
“Shayl always was stodgy.”
“I don’t know what to do, Zoreen.”
“There’s always a dorm.”
“They won’t let me stay long, not at my age. I don’t want to go through all this with an adviser.”
“They’ll find a set of rooms for you. You can always live alone, as I do.” Her mouth twisted. I had never known whether Zoreen had chosen to live by herself, or if she had been unable to find anyone to share her rooms.
“I thought maybe I could stay here with you, at least for a while, if you don’t mind.”
“You can’t ask your other friends?” Her green eyes narrowed. She must have known that my other friends might want to keep at a discreet distance until my mother’s position was clear; it was a useless question.
“I thought you were my friend,” I said at last.
“I see,” she murmured. “We haven’t exactly been very close lately.”
“I know that. I did ask you to my celebration, though.”
“Yes, you did. How very kind. I really enjoyed being with people who didn’t want me there.”
“I wanted you there, Zoreen.”
“No, you didn’t. You just felt obliged to an old childhood friend.”
“Then I suppose you don’t want me to stay.” I was about to rise.
“Oh, Laissa. You can stay.” She pulled at a few loose strands of her dark brown hair. “That is, if you don’t mind living with someone who’s doing history and early human culture.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Then I guess I don’t care about having someone here whose mother’s in trouble. I can’t really be choosy.”
I was about to reply but swallowed my words. Zoreen had the right to say what she had; she knew that I would rather be with Shayl.
“Zoreen, I know how you feel,” I said finally. “I don’t ask you to be anything more than a friend. I know I haven’t been a very good friend to you for a while. If you don’t want me here, I’ll go.”
She gazed at me; I could not read the expression in her eyes. “You can stay as long as you like. I’ve been lonely. I could use a friend.” I understood what I was seeing in her face as she spoke; she had the look of one used to solitude, to standing apart from the world. I had feared loneliness, had suppressed anything that might separate me from others. Zoreen had been an outsider for some time, ever since taking up her studies; now, I would be one as well.
“Thank you,” I said and saw her smile a little. “I’d better leave a message for Mother.”
I went to the screen and recorded my message so that I would not have to speak to Mother directly. I said that I would be staying with Zoreen, that her rooms were now my home, that I would pick up my things soon. In that way, I cut my ties. I was safe; whatever punishment Mother brought upon herself would not touch me.
ARVIL
The color had returned to Firemaker’s face by morning. The members of his band examined his arm and saw that it was healing. The strangers said nothing to us then, but later that morning, while they were eating, they gave us a little of their small supply of dried meat. This meat was hardly enough for one mouth, but they had little for themselves.
I said a prayer of thanks, knowing that men did not feed those they planned to kill, and then drew Wanderer to one side. “How soon will Shadow heal?”
“I told you before. I don’t want him to move from this shrine for another two days.”
“But I must leave.”
“I know that, but we had better have a truce with these men before you go.” Wanderer frowned. “They did not stay by the river, as you said they would. I wonder why. They carry only pouches and waterskins, but no packs, and two of the men have no spears.” I had seen this as well. It was as if they had traveled to the shrine quickly, without forethought.
We turned toward the strangers, who had said their prayers and were now reclining on the couches, awaiting the Lady’s blessing. Firemaker was soon sitting up and gazing at his arm while Shadow rested.
We went to Shadow’s side. “It hurts a little,” the boy said, although he looked ashamed to admit it. “It burns.”
“I’ll give you a potion for the pain,” Wanderer replied. “Then I’ll walk outside with you for a little… otherwise, you will grow weak.”
Shadow nodded. Firemaker was grooming his curly hair with the fingers of his good arm. “What about you?” Wanderer said to him.
“I feel well.”
“Your arm may be stiff for a while. Don’t pick at the wound.”
The other men removed their circlets. The gray-bearded Headman sat on the edge of his couch and gestured to Wanderer. “We must talk.”
The two walked to the altar and seated themselves under the statue of the Warrior. I trailed after them and sat behind Wanderer while the other men grouped themselves around their leader.
“Before we talk,” Wanderer said, “we must have a truce.”
The leader leaned forward. “What have you done—used magic on Firemaker? Will you remove your spell if no truce is granted?”
Wanderer was silent.
“Grant him the truce, Wise Soul.” Firemaker had followed us and was now sitting on the nearest couch. “I’m healing. I need his spell.”
The graybeard scratched his head. “Very well. I grant you a truce. But we must have your promise that the rest of your band will not harm us, either. I hope you have the power to grant that.”
“I do,” Wanderer said. “For how long?”
“For as long as any of us lives. We grant you the same.”
This was a surprise. Wise Soul would not need such a long truce unless he felt his band
was in some danger. Their enemies would become ours if we had a truce with them.
Wanderer was agreeing, as I knew he would have to do. He and Wise Soul murmured oaths to each other and sealed the truce. Then Wise Soul asked, “Where is the rest of your band?”
Wanderer held up a hand. “Answer me this. Why are you not at the river where I was told you dwell?”
The strangers stirred. “I asked my question first.”
Wanderer waved a hand. “You see my band, Wise Soul. It is these two boys. I have no other.” Firemaker was shaking his head. “Shadow was given to me in an enclave. This boy, Arvil, joined me south of here because the rest of his band is dead.”
“Then we have been deceived,” Wise Soul muttered. “We have no truce with a band, but only with three, and two are boys.”
“The Goddess saved Arvil from the fate of his band and has blessed him. He has been called.”
“He looks young to be called.”
“The Goddess has called him. He’ll be a man when he comes out of the enclave. Would I lie in front of the Goddess, in a shrine?”
Wise Soul lowered his head and glanced at me for a moment; I thought I saw respect in his eyes.
“I am called Wanderer,” my companion continued, “because I travel from place to place without a band. I have learned much. I have learned some healing arts and can teach them to you.” He paused. “Now answer my question. Why did you leave the river? Was it to come here to worship? Or was it to set upon travelers seeking out this shrine?”
“My men have endured much. The lust for blood was in them. They couldn’t strike at our enemies, so they struck at you.” Wise Soul looked up at the image of the Warrior. “We were driven from the river. These men are all that remain of our band. Our boys are dead, our camp is gone. We barely escaped.”
“Who did this to you?”
“A band we have never seen before. A band of horsemen.”
“I have seen horsemen,” Wanderer said. “I didn’t know they had come so far north.”
“These men spoke our speech,” another man said. “I was at the edge of the camp when they attacked. I fell and struck my head on a rock. When I came to my senses, I heard a boy pleading for his life, begging for mercy in the Lady’s name. A horseman answered in our speech, saying that his band had, not long before, come upon a traveler who had also pleaded for mercy, who spoke of seeing with his own eyes two aspects of the Lady outside a shrine, who swore powerful oaths that this was true, and yet the horsemen slayed him. The horseman said this and then took the boy’s life. I knew there would be no mercy for us then and that I would have to flee.”
I pondered this strange story. How could a man see aspects of the Lady outside of a shrine? Would a man be so desperate for life that he would risk punishment in the next world by swearing falsely to such a tale? I had uttered my share of falsehoods, but never with holy oaths, and never when I believed I might not live long enough to win the Lady’s forgiveness for speaking a lie. The man must have been maddened by his fear of death.
Wanderer seemed deep in thought. He was no stranger to falsehood, yet even he did not claim too much truth for his tales; they were only stories that might have happened in another time or in a faraway place. He would not have sworn to their truth, and most men had tales that grew in the telling. A man might lose sight of the truth, when an event lay far in his past, and thus not be truly guilty of a lie.
I thought of legends I had always believed were true. They also spoke of times no living man had seen. Gould untruth have been mingled with them? I stilled my thoughts quickly; this was not something to ponder in a holy place.
Wanderer spoke. “I didn’t know horsemen had come so far north. If they speak the northern tongue, they must have dwelled in this region for a time. There are more bands of such men now in other places, and they may one day overpower those on foot. When they hunt, they don’t need to track a lone animal, or chase a straggler into a trap—they can ride after a herd and kill more than they need. They can travel farther from their home ground, and they can fight those on foot, even if the ones on foot outnumber them.”
“They do not fight,” Wise Soul said. “They slaughter. They do not fight man to man.”
“I have talked to such men and have lived among a few. I have learned something of their arts and can teach them to you. With horses, we can have the strength of ten bands.”
“But it is unholy,” one young man said.
“It is not unholy,” Wanderer replied. “The Goddess has said that we must hunt, must live as we can. She has not said that we cannot use horses to aid us. I know how to ride, as does Shadow, and how to train a horse.” He paused. “I have traveled far. I have even heard of unknown lands where men have mastered the art of tilling the soil, or of shaping hard objects from soft clay. I know that what one band despises, another band may practice.”
Wise Soul’s eyes widened; he seemed drawn by Wanderer’s talk. “You can teach us some of these things?”
“Yes, and tell you many stories of far places.”
“Could you pledge yourself to our band and become our brother?”
Wanderer nodded. “I have thought of having a bond with one band, for wandering grows wearisome. But first you must do something for me.”
“And what is that?”
“The boy Arvil has been called to the enclave north of here. He must go there, and soon. His former guardian is there now, and I believe he will also join your band, for he has no other now. I cannot travel with Arvil because I must tend Shadow, but Arvil must reach the enclave soon, for the Goddess has commanded it. I ask that your men travel with him.”
“We don’t know that region well. When we have wandered, we have moved west, and the Lady has always summoned us to the enclave south of here.”
“The boy can guide you,” Wanderer said, “and you can offer him protection.”
Wise Soul stroked his beard. “We must move along the river and find a place for a new camp.”
“Do you think you are safe here, so near the horsemen who have driven you away from the river? They will range far on horseback. I know the ways of such men. They will claim all the land along the river for their own.”
Wise Soul said, “I must talk to my band.”
We left them by the altar and went back to Shadow. “Do you think they’ll come with me?” I asked.
“They are in danger here, and your band no longer dwells on your home ground. They could claim its territory before another band does.”
“But you and Shadow must stay here until he can travel.”
“That cannot be helped. If I pledge myself to them, we can follow when Shadow is better.”
I gazed at our new band, for such they would be. “Is that the kind of band you wanted to join?”
Wanderer shrugged. “They are men, no better or worse than others. Maybe I can teach them to be better than they are. Wise Soul has the look of a thoughtful man, and the others are young, and that means some of them may be called by the Goddess and given boys. I did not choose these men, but perhaps the bargain will be a good one.”
Wise Soul spoke to his men for a long time before he beckoned to us. We went back to the altar, and Wanderer was soon pledging himself to this band. His pledge would bind his charge, Shadow, as well.
“Wanderer has been like a guardian to me,” I said when he had finished, “but I’ll be a man when I leave the enclave, and I can become your brother then. I am not a man yet, so you do not have to heed my words, but Wanderer thinks you should take your band to the land where mine once lived. I don’t think another will have claimed it yet.”
Wise Soul nodded. “It may be best to move on. The horsemen have cursed this land for us. You should lead us to your old camp.”
I looked back at Shadow. He was my friend now, and I did not like the thought of leaving him and Wanderer here alone. “I can tell you how to reach the camp,” I said, “but I cannot lead you there myself. I must get to the enclave soon.
I must go north, while you will have to go northeast to reach our camp. I must think of Wanderer and Shadow as well, for they are my friends. You should all leave this place, yet Shadow cannot walk far. You could make a conveyance of wood and hide, and carry Shadow upon it. You will have to travel slowly then, while I must move as swiftly as I can, but you’ll still be safer than if you remain here.”
Wanderer did not speak, but his hand rested on mine for a moment.
“Wanderer won’t leave without Shadow,” I went on, “and you may have need of his arts.”
“You speak wisely, boy,” Wise Soul said, “but can you travel alone through the land to the north?”
“I shall try.”
“If you are to have a bond with us, we should aid you. I should send companions with you while the rest of us travel to your camp.” I guessed at what else he was thinking. He wanted me to have a chance to reach the enclave safely and to bring Tal out to join his band, but he also wanted most of his men to survive. If I met danger along the way, the rest of his band, traveling east, might escape it.
Wise Soul then agreed to send two of his men with me, a skinny man named Hare and a burly one called Ulred. I told them how to reach my camp, describing the landmarks and the distance to each, then led the men outside, where I drew pictures in the dirt until I was sure they could find the way. When I left the enclave with Tal, I said, I would go to Mary’s shrine, the place where my guardian had been called. It had come to me that Tal had always distrusted strangers, and that he should speak to them first in a holy place.
Wise Soul assured me that at least one member of his band would go to the shrine from time to time for two moons before I was given up for dead. I did not think of what might happen if my new band failed to reach the camp.
Just beyond the clearing around the shrine, Ulred and another of Wise Soul’s men were able to bring down a small deer. After thanking the Lady for providing us with meat, we butchered the deer, and I quickly cooked the pieces my companions and I would take on our journey, searing the meat in the flames of a fire, for there was no time to do more. The others would carry what meat they could and leave what they could not, for they wanted to leave soon, and there was still the conveyance for Shadow to make.
The Shore of Women Page 9