“Oh, you mean like the Pyrnig fungus?” Anya asked. “No, madam—nothing like that. I heard you had some last night and I know how rich it can be—though the likes of me has only tasted it once or twice. So I brought you quantham eggs and yorn cakes with sour-berry jelly. I hope that’ll be to your liking.”
Seeing as how she hadn’t actually had any dinner at all the night before, Lizabeth was pretty sure anything that wasn’t completely disgusting would be to her liking.
“I’m sure it will be fine, thank you Anya,” she said smiling. “But you don’t have to call me madam—I’m just Lizabeth.”
“Oh no—I couldn’t do that!” Anya’s eyes got wide. “I was told that as an undermaid, I must address all the Mistresses with respect—so I must!”
“Very well then,” Lizabeth said, seeing she couldn’t dissuade her. “How are you settling in here?”
“It’s hard work,” Anya said frankly. “But I don’t mind it a bit. I’d much rather be here working hard than relaxing back in the ripening tent, waiting for the shaman to decide I’m ready for cutting.”
“Do they really…cut women between their legs?” Lizabeth still could hardly believe it.
“Oh, yes madam!” Anya said earnestly. “They have to.”
“Have to?” Lizabeth shook her head. “What do you mean? Why would they have to do something so barbaric and evil?”
“Well, because of the prophesy of course,” Anya said matter-of-factly. Closing her eyes, she recited in a slow, steady voice:
* * *
“The Snow Queen must be fair of face
Filled with Beauty, Age, and Grace.
When she is cut and her Blood flows,
The Gods will save us from the Snows.
And if the males do Breed her Well
Gods save us from the Frozen Hell.
In her belly Plant a Seed
The Gods will Give us All we Need.”
* * *
“And…the Friezens—your people—really believe all that?” Lizabeth asked. “Do you believe it?”
“Yes, madam.” Anya hung her head, looking sad and ashamed. “What Brut said about me being selfish was true. I know I should have stayed and let them make me the Snow Queen for the good of the people.” She looked at Lizabeth appealingly. “But I just couldn’t stand to be cut! I tried to make up my mind to it but the more I thought of it, the more frightened I got until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to run!”
“You did the right thing,” Lizabeth assured her. “And I promise you this— your not being, uh, sacrificed…” She winced at the word. “Won’t make any difference one way or another to your people. You can’t control the weather or the crop yield by hurting someone—that’s not how things work.”
Anya looked at her, wide-eyed. “Do you not believe in the Gods, then, where you come from, madam?”
Lizabeth wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that. She herself wasn’t a big believer in any kind of deity, although she knew most of the Kindred aboard the Mother Ship were devout.
“We Kindred believe in the Goddess—the Mother of All Life,” Lone said, coming to sit across the table from Lizabeth. “We revere all things female.” His face grew dark. “No just or loving deity would order that a female be mutilated and raped just to appease them.”
“A female god?” Anya shook her head, as though she found the concept difficult to grasp. “I know that places like this…” She motioned at the Tower around them… “Where women are the rulers do exist but I never thought of a female god.”
“The Goddess is just and loving, though we cannot always understand her motives or the reasons behind things that happen to us.” Lone spoke quietly. “I believe she brought us to you just at the right moment to save you, Anya. She would abhor the practice of female defilement and mutilation.”
“Mayhap you’re right.” Anya bobbed her head thoughtfully. “Though my brother still says I should go back.”
“Your brother?” Lizabeth frowned. “Who’s that?”
“Why, it’s Karx, madam,” Anya said. “He who is the Mistress Superior’s Novice. He says like Brut did that I’m being selfish and I ought to go back and be the Snow Queen after all. But Mistress Verlandah, she won’t let him make me,” she added quickly. “I heard her tell him that they needed your credit too bad and as long as you wouldn’t hear of me being sent back, I couldn’t be sent.” She looked at Lizabeth fearfully. “You won’t let me be sent back, will you, madam? That’s why I begged to bring your breakfast tray today—I wanted to ask you myself in case Karx talked to you later on.”
“Of course not! You’re staying right here,” Lizabeth said firmly. She was shocked, both at the fact that Karx was Anya’s brother and that he would advocate sending his own sister back to torture, rape, and possible death. What a bastard!
“Oh, thank you, madam!” Anya exclaimed gratefully. “Thank you a hundred, thousand times! I feel ever so much better now.”
“My Lady will not allow you to be hurt or sent away,” Lone said quietly. “She is an advocate for justice—it is both her profession and her calling.” He smiled at Lizabeth as he spoke. “And she is very, very good at her work. If your life is in her hands, you have nothing to fear.”
Anya looked at him wonderingly.
“Karx said all you Kindred were female-worshipers,” she said wonderingly. “I didn’t really understand that before, but now I see it must be true. You don’t just bow and scrape and degrade yourself by licking her, uh, female bits just so you can stay out of the cold.” She blushed as she nodded at Lizabeth. “You truly care for her, don’t you?”
“Very much.” Lone took Lizabeth’s hand and leaned down to press a soft, hot kiss to the backs of her fingers. “And pleasuring my Lady with my mouth is not a debasement—it is an honor.”
Lizabeth began to feel her cheeks get warm.
“Lone…” she murmured.
“That’s not how my people see it at all,” Anya said frankly. “Karx won’t never be accepted back into our tribe again—even if he wanted to go back, he couldn’t. Because it’s known to us that up here a male has to lick and kiss female bits or he isn’t allowed to stay. The shaman says it’s the worse shame a male can suffer, being made lower than a female that is—and us lower than dirt. Begging your pardon, madam, and I hope I don’t offend you,” she added, looking at Lizabeth.
“I’m not offended,” Lizabeth said quietly. “Just a little sad that your people feel that way. You’re not ‘lower than dirt’ because you’re female, Anya. Women have worth too—the same worth as men.”
“Not in my tribe they don’t,” Anya said soberly. “We’re not fit for nothing but meeting a male’s needs and bearing children—and even then we’re considered worthless if the ones we bear are all female.”
“Females are not worthless—nothing could be further from the truth!” Lone exclaimed, looking genuinely upset. “Someone ought to teach your tribe their true worth.”
“Ah, but they wouldn’t listen to you, sir.” Anya shook her head dolefully. “Not when they know you’re a Novice and you lower yourself to serve a female with your tongue, as you do.”
“We Kindred believe there is a bit of the Goddess in every female,” Lone said firmly. He looked at Lizabeth, his gray eyes filled with emotion and his voice dropped to a soft growl. “And that spark of divinity is well worth worshiping—with our tongues and in other ways as well. As I long to worship my Mistress.”
“Lone…” Lizabeth murmured, feeling her heart start to pound. She knew he was just playing the part of her devoted Novice but did he have to play it so well?
“Well sir, madam, I’d better go now and serve the others.” Anya bobbed a little bow to them. “Thank you again for saving me and not sending me back down the mountains to be the Snow Queen. I’ll be grateful all my days and if ever there’s something I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you, Anya—that’s very kind. I’m glad you’re settli
ng in well here.” Lizabeth smiled at her as the other woman bowed again and left, closing the bedroom door behind her. “Well!” she said, turning to Lone as soon as she was certain Anya was out of earshot. “Can you believe that Karx is her brother?”
“Or that he wants to send her back down to be sacrificed in that barbaric way?” Lone’s gray eyes were dark as thunderclouds. “How could any male even consider such a thing?”
“You heard the way she talked,” Lizabeth said, frowning. “It’s just as you warned me before we came here—the Friezens are a male-centric society. Even poor Anya thinks she was wrong to run away from her awful fate. She’s been taught all her life that she’s worthless because she’s female.”
“Which could not be further from the truth—all female life is precious,” Lone said.
“You feel that way because your people are ninety-nine percent male,” Lizabeth pointed out. “Your whole society is devoted to the search for compatible females you can mate with in order to keep the Kindred race from dying out. It’s biological.”
“It’s ideological as well,” Lone argued. “We truly believe in the divinity of females—of their intrinsic worth and value. Females are to be cherished and protected, not harmed or belittled or trampled on.” He shook his head. “It amazes me how many societies and cultures—among them, some in your own world—don’t understand that, Lizabeth.”
“Unfortunately not everyone is a progressive as the Kindred,” Lizabeth said dryly. “And what was all that talk about ‘worshiping’ me? Don’t you think you were taking your devout Novice act a little far, Lone?”
“I wasn’t putting on an act.” He spoke quietly, looking into her eyes as he did. “I didn’t say a single word to Anya that I don’t believe with my whole heart, Mistress. I long to worship you in every way.”
“Oh…” Lizabeth didn’t know what to say to that. “Um…we’d probably better eat,” she said, trying to change the subject. “The food is going to get cold if we don’t.”
“Let’s eat,” Lone agreed and she was relieved that he seemed willing to let the awkward part of the conversation drop.
They drew the golden metal domes off their plates together and Lizabeth was greeted to the sight of something that looked very much like scrambled eggs and a biscuit spread with jelly. If scrambled eggs were green and biscuits were dark purple. The jelly was red, which made it look a little like blood clots on the deep purple of the biscuit.
Two more of the long silver sticks bound together at one end—the prongies—had been provided and Lizabeth picked one up and poked at the mound of green eggs. Suddenly, she began to laugh.
“What is it, Mistress?” Lone gave her a quizzical smile. “What’s so funny?”
“Green eggs and ham.” Lizabeth poked at the eggs again. “Sorry—it’s a children’s book I used to read to my nephews, years ago,” she explained, smiling. “I just never thought I’d ever eat actual green eggs.” She sighed. “That was back before…when I thought I might want to be a mom myself one day.”
“And do you still? Wish to be a mother?” Lone asked softly.
Lizabeth shrugged. “That ship has sailed. I mean, I know lots of women my age do IVF to get pregnant but I just feel like…my time has passed. And besides, who would I have kids with?” She laughed self-deprecatingly. “I wouldn’t want to try to do it on my own and I don’t see many guys lining up to do the parenting thing with a forty-five year old who knows the law way better than she knows her way around a changing table and a bottle warmer.”
“You’re doing it again,” Lone said quietly.
“Doing what?” Lizabeth frowned at him.
“Belittling yourself because of your age. You’re beautiful, Lizabeth—you shouldn’t speak so about yourself. Many males would be proud to have you as the mother of their children.”
“I wasn’t belittling myself exactly,” Lizabeth protested. “I’m just saying that time in my life has passed. Sometimes I wish it hadn’t but, well…” She shrugged. “Sometimes you have to accept facts. I’m probably never going to be a mom at this point.”
“I cannot have children either, you know,” Lone said quietly. “Without a twin brother to help, it’s nearly impossible for a Twin Kindred to father children. I have heard of it happening from time to time but it’s extremely rare.”
“I’m sorry, Lone.” Lizabeth reached across the table and pressed his hand. “Do you want to be a father?” They had never talked about such things before, she realized. Had never talked so openly and so intimately about their hopes and dreams and regrets. It made her feel closer to her assistant—in a way even closer than the physical intimacy they had shared the night before.
Baring your body was one thing—baring your soul was something else entirely.
He sighed. “I would like to very much, yes. I think I would make a good father—though it would be difficult to parent without a twin to help me. But I think I could manage.”
“I think you could too.” Lizabeth bit her lip. “And you’re still so young—you shouldn’t give up. Maybe…maybe when we get back to the Mother Ship you’ll find a nice girl who doesn’t care that you don’t have a twin. Lots of women are open to the idea of adoption, you know.”
Just saying the words made her feel sick inside. The idea of Lone with another woman—a nice girl his own age—the two of them laughing together, holding hands, going to adopt a baby…it all made her feel like her soul had been twisted into a knot. But she made herself say the words anyway. After all, once they got back to the Mother Ship, their relationship would go back to being businesslike and professional. It was reasonable to suggest such a thing to him, as hard as it was to get the words out.
Lone didn’t answer. He just sat there looking at her for a long time. Then he shook his head and looked back down at his breakfast.
“We should eat,” he said in a low voice. “This is likely to be the most appetizing meal we’re served all day.”
“True.” Blindly, Lizabeth stabbed a bit of green egg with her prongie and put it in her mouth.
But whether it tasted good or bad, she really couldn’t say. She felt numb and they ate in silence.
Her words hurt Lone more than he could fathom. The fact that Lizabeth would even suggest that he should find another female to settle down with—someone other than her—sent a stinging blade deep into his soul.
How can you say such a thing? he wanted to shout. How could you even consider it? Don’t you know you’re the only woman I want? The only one I’ve ever wanted? I can’t imagine my life without you—I wish only to serve you. Why can’t you see that?
But somehow, he clenched his jaw and managed to keep the words inside, just as he had been doing for the past two years. He was beginning to wonder, though, how much longer he would be able to contain the feelings within him. As the Dark Half of him came forward, they seemed to be rushing upwards, bubbling to the surface like blood about to pour from an open wound.
Is that what my relationship with Lizabeth has become? A wound? he asked himself as he stabbed blindly at the dark green eggs. It certainly felt like it at times like this—when she unknowingly hurt him with her words. Even though he knew her intentions were good, it still stabbed like a knife to know she thought he ought to find another female once they got to the Mother Ship.
She must not care about me at all, Lone thought. Not in the way I care for her, anyway. Or she could never suggest such a thing.
For the first time he wished he could stop caring—that he could take back his heart, which had been given to her the moment he first met her. But there was no way to stop his feelings—no way to stop wanting her, to stop wanting to serve her.
There was nothing, in short, he could do but try to make the most of his time with her here at the Tower. Because Lizabeth was making it crystal clear that the moment they got back to the Mother Ship, she expected him to go back to being her assistant and only her assistant.
I’ll never have the chance to serve he
r again—not the way I long to, Lone thought sadly as they ate their food in silence. Oh Lizabeth, if only you felt for me the way I feel for you…
Fourteen
“Damn these things, they’re so annoying! I’m sorry—would you give me a minute?” Lizabeth bent down to see that the long black ribbons which were wrapped around her calves and ankles had begun to unravel again. She began to retie the one on the right, muttering another curse under her breath as she did so.
The ribbons didn’t add much to the regular Mistress outfit of the silky white gown and long black vest in her opinion—-in fact, they were proving to be nothing more than a massive pain in the ass. But apparently she had to wear them because they denoted a new Initiate to Knowledge—it was Tower protocol.
“I can see to them if you wish, Mistress,” Lone offered. He was already bending towards her but Lizabeth waved him away.
“Don’t be silly, Lone—that’s like offering to tie my shoe. I’m an adult—I can manage.” She finished the right ribbon and then retied the left as well before straightening up. “All right,” she said to Joren and Mistress Anarrah, who had both come to meet them at their room after breakfast, in order to take them to Mistress Anarrah’s classroom. “I should be good for a couple more steps until they come untied again. Sorry.”
“Do not apologize, my dear.” Mistress Anarrah smiled serenely. “There is a trick to keeping them tied, you know.”
“Is there? I wish you’d teach it to me—they’re driving me crazy,” Lizabeth confided to her.
But the other Mistress only smiled.
“You’ll learn it in time, I should think. Come—my classroom is this way.”
She motioned down the long stone corridor which appeared to be where the original part of the mountain and the newer, man-made part of the Tower intersected. One half of the hallway was all bulges and swirls from where the water had shaped the rock—the other was straight and neat and orderly. The juxtaposition gave the long corridor a strangely surreal effect and Lizabeth felt, not for the first time, that she was somehow trapped in a dream.
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