The Shore of Women (3 page)
Outside one lean-to, Geab sat in the cleared space around our fire. The stranger nearest to him was a large man in a bearskin. He looked well fed, as had the man with Cor. Ten other men were with him, all large, some dressed as he was. They did not sit but stood stiffly, their spears at their feet. Each held the reins of a horse, while one man held two horses.
I had seen such men only once before, at a distance, and they and their tamed horses had struck fear into me. Seeing such men in our camp frightened me even more.
Our band had always been small. There were Geab, Tal and me, Cor and the Stalker, Eagle Eyes and the boy Hawk, and Arrow. Arrow had brought our newest member, Stel, out of the enclave to the north the winter before. Hasin was dead, struck down in a battle with another band. We could not have fought these strangers and their horses, so I well understood why Geab had agreed to talk instead. But what could such men want with us? Why hadn’t they attacked us, when they could have so easily?
Tal squatted near a small snowbank as he watched the parley. I turned and went to a lean-to under the trees, a shelter I had built myself of wood and branches covered with hides. Hawk was sitting under it with Stel.
“Who are they?” I asked Hawk as I sat down.
“A band from the south.”
“And they came north in winter? What are they doing here?”
Stel giggled. His chubby, dark brown face reminded me of his guardian’s; Arrow was the only dark man I had ever seen. I poked Stel with my elbow and told him not to giggle. He rolled his dark eyes. I poked him again, and he blinked back tears. He was small and afraid to hit back.
Hawk rubbed his pointed chin. “They are treating with Geab. They came here at dawn when I was on watch, put down their spears, and asked for truce. It was hard for me to understand them at first, for they use strange words, but their leader and another man know our speech, and we all know holy words, so we were able to talk. Did Tal bring us some fresh meat?”
“We found nothing except two rabbits, and we ate those.” I took off my empty pack.
Hawk pouted. “Those horses would make good meat. The dried meat is…”
“What about the strangers?” I said.
“They want us to join them.”
“Join
them!”
“That’s what their leader said. They have a large band, Arvil. That is only part of it there. The leader held up ten fingers, and then ten more, until he had held out his fingers nine times. They number ninety, and they have built a wall, and have huts, and plenty of food, too—that is why they’re so fat. The leader told us that their men have been called to two different enclaves and that they control the paths to four shrines.”
“I don’t believe it.”
Hawk drew up his hood, hiding his brown braids. “He says they do. They fed us dried meat of their own before, and leaves with grain. He says they grow some of their own grain and don’t often have to forage for it. He says they keep herds of animals with them and have fresh food in the winter without having to hunt for it.”
“If he has such a large band, then what does he want with ours?”
Hawk leaned forward. “Unity. He spoke of unity—strength in numbers, he called it. He says bands do not have to fight other bands or avoid them. He says that one day, they will be so strong that they’ll destroy any band that isn’t part of theirs, and that all the weaker bands will die out, and that some day, they will be as strong as an enclave. And then…”
Stel’s eyes were wide as he listened. Hawk shoved the boy. “Go away, Stel.”
“Why?”
“Just go. Practice with your spear or gather wood.”
Stel wandered away from the lean-to as Hawk drew closer to me. “And then,” he whispered, “they will go to an enclave when they want to, and not just when they’re called.”
I hid my face with my hand for a moment. “Do not say it. The Lady will hear.”
“Their leader says he serves the Lady. He says he can hear Her even when he is not in a shrine wearing the Lady’s crown. He’s touched with holiness, and, when he is entranced, the Lady speaks through him. He says that She has told him that a new day is dawning for all men.”
It sounded unholy to me. I sent up a silent prayer to ward off the Lady’s anger. “What happens if we don’t join them?”
“We shall have a truce for now, but in the spring they will declare us their enemies and be free to hunt us down. They can do it, too. We cannot fight men on horseback.”
“We can run from them.”
“We would have to run far.”
“Tal will never agree,” I said.
“He’ll have to go along with what the others decide.”
I wrapped my arms around my legs. Tal was watching the strangers, but I could not read his face.
When the parley was over, the strangers rode down the hillside to make camp below and sent Cor up to us. They moved in a line, one horse following another, each man holding his reins in the same fashion, as if the thoughts of one ruled all.
We gathered around the fire while Geab talked of what the strangers had said.
“What do you think, Headman?” the Stalker asked.
“I say we join,” Geab answered. “We need no new enemies, and their band has been blessed. We must join them.”
“I agree,” the Stalker said.
Arrow was nodding, and so was Eagle Eyes. Hawk, Cor, and I had no right to vote since we had not yet been called, and Stel was only a child.
Tal shook his head. “We cannot do this. We live well enough.”
Geab said, “We can live better.”
“We’ll have to do what they tell us and live among strangers. We don’t know their speech. We may not have our own Headman.”
“We all know holy speech, and I’ll still be our Headman,” Geab replied. “They have something they call a council, and I will speak for our band there, but we must obey their Headman.”
“You will speak for us?” Tal scowled. “Do we not speak for ourselves?”
“You will speak to me, and then I’ll speak to them.”
“But you will not be our Headman then, Geab.” Tal showed his teeth. “I spent the night in Mary’s shrine. I’ve been called again. When I return, I shall be the Headman, and you will be an Elder.” Tal had saved that news.
Geab narrowed his brown eyes and grinned; he did not seem disturbed. “There are no Elders in their camp. Their leader told me that. He says that they keep their old men and listen to their tales and make use of their wisdom. I’ll still be our Headman until I die—and, in a place like that, I may grow very old.”
“We haven’t joined them yet.”
“But we will.”
“You must wait until I return from the enclave.”
“We cannot. They leave tomorrow and have asked us to ride with them. They can tell you how to follow us to their home ground. We will join them, Tal.”
Geab was right. I could see it in the eyes of the others as they dreamed of food and huts. Geab was afraid of death; he would give up being a true Headman in order to live. And if Tal never reached the land of the strangers, that too would serve Geab’s aims, for he would then have no rival.
“It is unholy,” I cried out.
“Silence!” Geab shouted at me. “Your body may be much like a man’s, Arvil, but you’re a boy until you are called.”
“It’s unholy. Hawk told me that they dream of becoming as strong as an enclave and of going to enclaves without being called.”
“Is that true?” Tal asked.
Geab nodded.
“Then it is unholy. I serve the Lady, and She has favored me again. I won’t join them.”
Arrow pulled at his kinky black beard; Eagle Eyes was frowning. The Stalker waved an arm. “I’m with Geab,” the Stalker said. “The Lady has favored the strangers, has She not? They say they have brought many young ones out of the enclaves. They shared food with us willingly, for they have much more. I say we go.” I knew then that Eagle Eyes and Arrow would follow Geab as well.
Tal rose. “I must go to the enclave. I must pray, and purify myself in a shrine, and travel to the Lady. But I won’t return to you if you go with them.”
Geab laughed. “Then you will die. You’ll be alone, with no band.”
“I am at the mercy of the Lady. We shall see what She wills for me. I may find a new band. The Lady will know I wasn’t tempted by evil.” Then Tal spoke these words, chilling me. “I withdraw my allegiance from you, Geab. You are no longer my Headman, and I am no longer of this band.”
“And I expel you,” Geab answered as he jumped up. “If the Lady hadn’t called you, you would die now. But I believe death will come for you soon enough.”
Tal gazed down at me. The other men were watching him. I was frightened; I was still Tal’s charge, and what became of me now was in his hands. I could not go with him to the enclave and wondered if he would leave me here alone to survive however I could while I waited.
Tal pulled me to my feet and led me to the Stalker. “Will you be Arvil’s guardian?” he asked. The Stalker nodded. “Very well, then—it is done. Farewell, Arvil.”
I wanted to cry out, but that would have been unseemly. Tal stood near me while I struggled with myself, wanting to cling to him. “You were not called,” he said, “and I cannot take you along.” He drew me to one side, away from the men and the warmth of the fire. “You must go with them to that unholy place, for you would die here alone, but the Lady will guide you. Pray often, and follow Her way—reject unholiness. We may meet again when I can take you from that place.”
“Do not lie to me, Tal. We’ll never be together.”
His fingers dug into my arm. “Resist evil. Whatever they tell you, don’t fall into evil ways.”
I said, “I must live as they do while I am among them.”
“Think of the Lady. Your only chance at life is to go with them now, and that is why you must, but if they punish you for keeping to holiness, then you will have to bear that punishment.” He released me. “Farewell, Arvil.”
Tal picked up his spear and bow, shouldered his quiver, and walked down the hill alone.
LAISSA
My friends began to arrive for my party. I greeted them while trying to forget my worries. After they had sung the traditional song of approaching womanhood, and I had accepted their gifts, we sat down on the carpet and began to nibble at candies and fruit.
All of my friends had already passed menarche, and they had advice to offer. “Find a room in the north quadrant, Laissa, but not in one of the outside towers.”
“If you decide to follow your mother and study medicine, stick to research. Doctors and nurses have to go to the wall sometimes and deal with men.”
“I’m thinking of joining the patrol for a while when I’m through with my studies. The work isn’t much, but it’s a chance to meet a lot of women and help them.”
“I’m concentrating on astronomy and astrophysics. It’s exciting to look at all those plates and records, to understand what was discovered in the past.”
“Get some pilot training if you’re suited for it. The cyberpilot does most of the piloting anyway, and you’ll get to see other cities. We went as far as the Ridge on a training flight once.”
“Cybernetics is interesting, and it’s a good way to win a place on the Council someday.”
“Cybernetics.” Zoreen, in her low voice, almost spat out the word. “Isn’t everything cybernetics, in a way? How much real work do we have? The doctors stare at a lot of screens and scanners, the pilot stares at a screen, and the cybernetic intelligences tell us what to do. The cyberminds do most of the work, and we don’t do anything new. We don’t know anything that wasn’t known two centuries or more ago. We probably know less. We hold ourselves back.”
The other young women looked away from Zoreen; a few made faces, while others pretended they hadn’t heard. I hadn’t wanted to invite Zoreen, but we had been close once, and she had invited me to her celebration.
“We have to understand what the cyberminds do,” Shayl responded. “They just save us the trouble of doing a lot of tedious tasks they can manage more quickly.”
Zoreen’s mouth curved into a half smile. “And it makes things easier for us, too. Do what was done, follow past procedures. Once there were satellites scanning the heavens, and now we’re content to stare at astronomical plates made centuries ago. Once our ships flew over the oceans, and now we’re content if they fly as far as the Ridge. We build no new cities. Even on our own continent, there are lands almost unknown to us now.”
Shayl sat up straight and pointed her chin at Zoreen. “Would you want us to be like the ancients?” she asked. “They nearly destroyed the world with their overreaching. You, of all people, ought to know that.”
“We might do more,” Zoreen said.
“We have obligations,” Shayl replied. “We’ll be the Mothers of the City. We have to serve all those women here who depend on us, we have a duty to them to keep their lives as peaceful and untroubled as they are. I wouldn’t wish to change that.”
Shayl, my best friend, had been studying physics. Her life was already planned; she would master her work, perhaps elaborate a little on what was already known, have her children, and then divide her time between her work and tutoring in a girls’ dormitory. Thinking of the dormitories, I became solemn; my life there, and in Mother’s rooms, was over. Soon, I would move to my own rooms. Shayl and I had already planned to live together until it was time to have children and perhaps even after that; but I hadn’t seen much of her since her party and wondered if she had changed her mind. Jenna and Carlea, still inseparable, sat together holding hands, and I felt a pang.
“What are you going to do, Laissa?” Carlea asked.
I said, “I don’t really know.”
“An adviser’ll talk to you after the tests,” Jenna said in her lilting voice. “You should follow her suggestions.”
“Do the general science course,” Carlea said as she shook back her dark curls. “It’s a good choice for anyone who’s uncertain. You really can’t go wrong, and it’s useful as a base.”
“There’s always history and human culture,” Zoreen offered. Another girl giggled; I felt myself blushing. “It would certainly enliven your days of study.” She leaned forward; her green eyes glittered. “Men and wars. Boys and girls together, without any protection. No insemination—they actually had to touch the men.” Zoreen, it appeared, was deliberately being offensive; she must have known that the others hadn’t wanted her there.
“It sounds disgusting,” Shayl said loftily. With her large brown eyes and dark brown skin, she had always been the most beautiful girl I had known. “I think a lot of perverts and disturbed women do history.”
Zoreen looked down. My cheeks burned. I had read some history, finding myself oddly drawn to a few of the old stories, but had never intended to study it.
Shayl glanced at me. “You should do physics,” she went on. “That way, we could study together.” I gazed uncertainly at her. “Well, we are going to share rooms, aren’t we? I thought we’d decided that a while ago.”
She spoke casually. I wanted to leap up and throw my arms around her but only smiled instead. “Of course.”
“Look!” Miri shouted.
Button had wandered out of his room. He rubbed his eyes sleepily as he watched us and pulled at his brown nightshirt with his other hand.
“Come here,” Jenna said as she held out her arms.
Button toddled to her. As he reached out to touch her long brown hair, Jenna pushed him away with both hands. He sat down hard on the carpet. “What a little beast he is. He looks even uglier than my brother.”
“Do you know what’s going to happen to you?” Carlea murmured as she crawled over to him. “Do you know?”
Button’s eyes widened; he did not speak.
“You’re going to get sent outside,” Carlea shouted triumphantly. “You’re going to live with big, hairy, wild men, and, if you don’t do what they say, they’ll kick you and beat you.”
“Look at him,” Shayl said as she leaned over and lifted Button’s shirt. “Isn’t it wretched? It just hangs there like a little sausage.”
Everyone giggled. Button turned toward me; his gray eyes glistened. I wanted to get up and lead him back to his room, where I could have comforted him a little, but couldn’t bring myself to move.
Carlea got to her feet and lifted Button, swinging him in a circle before throwing him to Shayl. Zoreen watched silently; unlike the others, she was not laughing. Shayl swung Button in an arc, and he screamed. As she set him down, he kicked her leg hard with his bare foot and then slapped her hands away.
“Button!” I cried out.
“He’s already getting nasty,” Miri said. “He should have been sent out a long time ago.”
Button glared at me. I did not speak. He ran back to his room and shot an angry glance at me before the door slid shut.
“Of all the things we’ll have to do,” I heard myself say, “bearing boys is by far the worst.”
Everyone began to murmur in agreement, but I hated myself for saying it.
I began to worry again after my friends had left. I should have been happy, but I was thinking of Button and was suddenly angry with Mother for not sending him away sooner. Because she had grown to care about Button too much, she had brought me to care about him, too, and had endangered us both in the process.
I found Mother in her study. She was slumped in a chair by the mindspeaker console; her long auburn hair hid her face.
“I came to say good night.”
She looked up at me. Her eyes were red; her face seemed swollen. “Did you have a nice party?” she asked.
“Oh, yes. Shayl still wants us to live together. Her rooms are in the south quadrant, too, so we’ll be close by.”
She stared at the floor. “Button’s father has already received my message. He should reach the wall in a few days, and then Button…” Her voice shook a little. “He’s looked after your twin. Button will have two men to look out for him.” She stared past me. “I did what I had to do. There won’t be any more warnings from Eilaan. We needn’t concern ourselves with that any more. I did it for you, Laissa. I wanted you to have your celebration without worrying about this.”
I kissed her and went to my room, then remembered that I had left a jade bracelet, Shayl’s present, in the outer chamber.
My door slid open. Mother stood in front of Button’s room, weeping.
Both Shayl and my tests dominated the next few days.
When I got up, I walked through the botanical gardens near my tower to a training center and sat before screens and scanners while cyberminds tested my brain chemistry, reactions, and reflexes, then displayed questions for me to answer. The lenses and lights of the artificial intelligences winked at me as their questions and diagrams danced across the screen, and their soft but stilted voices chattered. I had been tested often enough before and could not imagine what else they would learn about me, but these tests were longer and more extensive than those I had undergone earlier.
During the afternoon, I would put on a circlet and find myself in a ship about to crash, then in a garden tending flowers, then with a small infant, then with a patrolwoman aiding a lost child. I moved through so many scenarios that I soon lost track of the number.
At the end of each day, several old women, all psychologists, questioned me; their inquiries seemed either obvious or silly.
“What is a boy?”
“Which would you rather be, an architect or a veterinarian, and why?”
“If a close friend lied to you about a trivial matter, and you discovered the lie, what would you do about it?”
“If you were in love with someone, and she didn’t love you, what would you do about it?”
“Why must men live outside?”
In the evening, I came home to dinner and then a visit from Shayl. One night, she took me over to her rooms, which were near the top of her tower, and we stood on her balcony and looked up at the stars. On another night, we went through my possessions as she advised me on what I should leave behind.
I had no time to think of Mother. She was a silent presence at dinner, and withdrawn at other times. I assumed that she was trying to reconcile herself to the loss of Button whenever I thought about her at all.
On the last day of my tests, I was sent through the curving corridors of the center to a small room.
An old woman I hadn’t met before was sitting behind a desk. Her face was wrinkled, her chin sagged, and her hair was gray. She, like Eilaan, had reached that time in her life when rejuvenation begins to fail and a woman starts to prepare for death. This woman, I was sure, had seen almost two centuries of life, and I wondered if she would be sorry to leave it. Then I asked myself why, if we could live this long, we could not find a way to live as long as we chose. Before I could ruminate on an answer to that question, I was thinking of the men outside and of how short their lives were in comparison to ours.
“My name is Bren,” the old woman said as she stood up and led me to the couch. A console with a small screen sat on the table before us; Bren pressed a few keys, gazed at the lettering, then turned toward me. “I am to be your adviser, Laissa. I’m here to deal with any problems you might have during this time of transition, when you’re preparing for the future course of your life.”
I said, “I’ve already decided to do physics.”
“Let me ask you something, then. Are you planning to do physics because you really want to, because something in you cries out for a deep understanding of the physical universe, or because your friend Shayl is studying that subject?”
I hesitated. At last I said, “I would have considered it anyway, but I’ll do better at it with a friend to help me.”
Bren’s smile seemed stiff; her small black eyes were glassy. “I recommend that you consider the general science course instead. You’ll get some physics there, and you can always explore the subject in more depth later. But I would also suggest that you supplement your studies with some work in history and human culture.”
I was stunned. Swallowing hard, I tried to compose myself. “I’m not interested in that, Bren.”
“That isn’t what your tests show.”
“Anyway, you know how everyone feels about that. They think it’s odd to study those things, that a normal woman wouldn’t be interested in them.”
“I once expected to hear such talk only from those we serve, but it seems more and more of the Mothers of the City feel the same way.” She leaned back. “I did some work in human culture myself, and you might be surprised at some of the others who have dabbled in it. Oh, I know that many young ones find it strange and disturbing—they can’t imagine what it has to do with their lives now, and they want to fit in. When one gets older, though, one sometimes wants to understand the past, and what made us as we are.”
I brushed at my sleeve nervously. “Well, I’m not old. Besides, what would I use it for? I don’t want to be a recordkeeper or a historian, and I’d have to learn at least a couple of the old languages to read the records anyway.”
“There are translations, but your tests indicate that you have an aptitude for languages. And a knowledge of history and human culture can be useful.”
“But what would
I
use it for?” I repeated.
Bren put her hand on my shoulder. The gesture seemed rehearsed. I imagined her thinking: Now I should pat her on the shoulder, now I should smile and look reassuring. She smiled and tilted her head to one side. “Everything on your tests shows that you might make a fine chronicler. By looking at the past, you will come to understand why we are as we are. By writing about your feelings, your perspective on our life, you might illuminate…”
“But I don’t want to be a chronicler. I never thought of doing that, ever.”
Bren drew back. “Some seem to be born with the desire, while others come to it later. I can only tell you what your tests show. Chroniclers are rare, and their stories now are often repetitions of what has often been told.” She paused. “Be honest, Laissa. Do you passionately long to understand the principles of matter, the underlying structure of the universe, or are your questions about us and our ways?”
I leaned away from her.
“Don’t you sometimes feel as though you’re an observer, someone apart?”
“I don’t know,” I replied.
