Bradley, Marion Zimmer - Novel 19 (38 page)

 
          
He
turned his back on the women, deliberately wrapped himself in the coarse prison
blanket, and lowered himself painfully to the bare floor of the cell. He did
not speak again.

 
          
When
Cendri had escorted Miranda gently to her room, and left her there in the care
of the midwife, she went to her own room, thinking in dread of Dai's fate in
the hands of the men.

 
          
If
they had sought some specific concession from Vaniya, they might have fared
better. Vaniya was a reasonable woman, as she had proved when she gave a
previous messenger leave to organize a hunt, because of their hunger. But the
men had asked the one thing which Vaniya, secure in the Tightness of her
position, backed up by the will of the Builders—or Whoever and Whatever had
spoken to her at We-were-guided—would never grant.

 
          
In
all the years while we have dwelt
on
Isis
,
the
Builders
have
 
spoken
to no male.......

 
          
Did
that mean, then, that the society on
Isis
was one specially chosen, right, the way
all humanity should live?

 
          
Cendri
shivered; then, remembering how the man Yal in his cell had done the same,
forced herself to be quiet. No; if she accepted the word of—of whatever had
spoken at We-were-guided—that would be to acknowledge it as a God, a
supreme
Being. And that, despite the almost-automatic
reverence she had felt while she knelt there, Cendri could not do. Vaniya
believed that whatever spoke there was the voice of a God—or more probably,
Vaniya being who and what she was, a Goddess. But Cendri had been raised in the
firm agnosticism of the Unity, and she did not believe in Gods—or Goddesses
either—except as psychological forces in the minds of those who worshipped
them. Far less could she accept that such Supreme Beings, if they
existed—which, away from the seductive experience of We-were-guided, she did
not believe—would lower themselves to interfere in the political institutions
of humanity or to set up women above men, or for that matter, men above women.
If Cendri believed in God at all it was in a force of ultimate fairness, which
inspired but did not lead its worshippers, and left it to them to work out the
details of their societies.

 
          
Something
had spoken to her in the Ruins. That she knew, as she knew her name was Cendri
Owain. But the nature of that
Something
she did not
know, and could not guess.

 
          
But
the fact of the matter was that Vaniya believed, and it was ultimately in
Vaniya's hands to put her faith into action. Cendri never doubted that she
would do it. So that Dal might remain in the hands of the men of
Isis
until he died—or until the Unity sent to
ask word of what had happened to its Master Scholar, sent to investigate the
ruins of
Isis
.

 
          
And
that was what the men wanted. That the Unity should come to investigate, to see
the conditions of the Matriarchate, should declare them unfit for a world which
traded with the Unity.
Should enforce freedom for the men of
Isis
as a condition, not of
membership in the Unity, but of trade with it.
Cendri shuddered. The Unity could, and would,
do it. In the name of Humanity, they would do it. Slavery was repugnant to the
Unity, and in the harsh laws of the Matriarchate, where every man was legally
some woman's
property,
they would see slavery, and
nothing more.

 
          
And
Mahala had said it, and Miranda. They were a poor world. They needed, they
desperately needed, trade with the Unity, a market for their pearls and other
exports, they needed terms for the earthquake-predictive equipment which would
free them of the quakes and tidal waves, they needed land-reclamation machinery
and equipment, they needed scientific training for their scientists and
scholars on University. If the Unity enforced sanctions on them, as it did on
all worlds which dealt in slaves,
Isis
could not survive, and their experiment
would die with them.

 
          
So that the men, holding Dal, had the one instrument which could
kill the power of the Matriarchate.
Vaniya might trust in the love and
concern of the Builders; but they could not save her, or Isis, now.

 
          
By
the time Cendri had readied herself to dine at Vaniya's
table,
she was exhausted with her attempts to find some way out of this dilemma. Did
Vaniya even understand the plight she would be in, if the Unity should come to
investigate Dai's disappearance? If she did not, then she, Cendri, must
enlighten her, and she shrank from the thought. Vaniya had not even told her of
the existence of the messenger Yal, or of his demand; she had left Cendri to
suffer in uncertainty. Braced with the anger this thought raised in her, she
went down to dinner.

 
          
Yet
her deep affection for Vaniya bade her give Vaniya a chance to tell the truth.
After all, she reminded herself, she had absented herself from Vaniya's
dinner-table the night before, Vaniya might well have hesitated to trouble
Cendri in her supposed illness with such news.

 
          
But
the meal was much as usual. Vaniya welcomed Cendri back to them with tender
concern, inquired about her health, and did not speak a word of the absent Dal.
And throughout the meal, Cendri's anger grew, until by the time the dishes were
cleared away, she could restrain it no longer.

 
          
She
said, "Vaniya, I would like to speak with you alone, if I may," and
waited until the Pro-Matriarch had dismissed her household. Even then, seeing
the lines of fatigue and worry in the older woman's face, Cendri almost
relented.

 
          
But
my duty now is
to Dal. I, too, am a
citizen
and a Scholar of
University.

 
          
She
said quietly, "Vaniya, I have heard that you had news of Dal, and that you
did not tell me. I had thought you regarded me as a guest and a friend. In our
world this would not be thought the kindly action of a friend."

 
          
"Friend?
More than that, my child," said Vaniya,
gently taking her hand. Cendri drew it away and her eyes blazed.

 
          
"Miranda,
perhaps, is my friend, Vaniya, but not you; or why was I not told that a
messenger had been sent, telling me that Dal was a prisoner of the men's
rebellion?"

 
          
"Oh, dear!"
Vaniya said, and her face was
troubled. "My dear child, I did not want you troubled with such trifles.
If these foolish men think they can force our will that
way,
that
has nothing to do with you. I am sure you are concerned for your
Companion, but after all, it is only a male, and you can all too easily find
another. You shall have the choice of my own Men's
House,
I will not withhold even Rhu from you if you value him so highly."

           
Cendri heard her in amazement and
dismay. Had she, then, never even begun to understand Vaniya, or her world? No,
for she now knew she should have expected this. The fault had been in Cendri,
when she first agreed to the terms made by the women of
Isis
. Dai's fault, too; he was a Scholar and
such an imposture was not intellectually honest, either. They should have
demanded— University should have demanded—to send their chosen Scholar on his
own terms, pledging his obedience to the laws of
Isis
, and under diplomatic immunity if
necessary; but the imposture, she now knew, had been a great mistake, and now
she, and Dal, must pay for it. But she would not continue the lie.

 
          
She
said quietly, "Vaniya, that will not do, and I think you know it. For all
that we have tried never to offend against your
customs,
Dal is not a Companion as you of
Isis
use the term. He is my life-partner, a citizen of the Unity, a Master Scholar
of University, and the Unity will not allow him to be disregarded and given up
to imprisonment. I think you know what the Unity can do if they choose to
exercise sanctions against
Isis
;
it has been done before."

 
          
Vaniya's
face was pale. She said, "I cannot believe they would do this for an
assistant, even the valued assistant of a Scholar Dame."

 
          
Cendri
felt the blood drain from her own cheeks, but now she was committed to the
truth. "Dal is not my assistant, Vaniya. It is he who is—who has always
been—the Extra-Scholar Malocq," she used the neutral word in the language
of
Isis
. "It is he, not I, who was the trained
assistant of the Scholar Dame di Velo."

 
          
Vaniya's
fists clenched. Her mouth was tight, but her eyes glowed in anger; she looked
more than ever like a great golden lioness, but now the lioness was free and
stalking in fury. She paced the floor, rounding on Cendri to demand, "And
who are you, then? Are you not the Scholar Dame Malocq?"

 
          
"I
am a Scholar," Cendri said, "I am the life-partner of the
Extra-Scholar Malocq, and as the custom is on his home world of Pioneer, I had
taken his name for my own. And so it was possible—" her voice failed her
there.

 
          
Vaniya
demanded, in a fury, "Why did you come, then?
Only to be
a—a sexual plaything, a she-Companion, for your Extra-Scholar, then?"
Cendri felt she would wither into a small scorched coal under the blazing
contempt in Vaniya's voice. She gathered her self-respect, and said firmly,
"No, Vaniya. I came for the sake of my own work; I too am a Scholar, and
some day to be Extra-Scholar as well, the equal of Dal!" She flung the
phrase at Vaniya defiantly.

 
          
Vaniya
just stood and stared at her. "That I should live to hear a woman and a
Scholar
say
such words—that some day she might rise to
be the equal of a male! Have you learned no shame among us, Cendri?"

 
          
Cendri
set her chin so that she would not cry. She said, "Vaniya, in all save
Scholar's credentials we are equals; and I have not completed mine."

 
          
"Credentials—"
Vaniya said. "Let us have this clear, then. Are you an assistant
archaeologist, and your—your Companion—the true Extra-Scholar in that
field?"

 
          
With
all her heart Cendri wished she could leave it at that. Ringing in her mind
were the words recorded for a former High Matriarch of Isis—she wondered which
of the statues she had seen in the Hall of Matriarchs had said these words;

 
          
We
will not be studied by your scientists as if we
were
one
of
those
glass-sided insect colonies we give our little daughters
for
playthings.
Yet she had committed herself now to complete honesty with Vaniya.

 
          
Standing
before Vaniya, looking up into the woman's face as if she were a Student before
her
Mentor
in the first class on University, she said
steadily, "No, Vaniya. I am a cross-cultural sociologist and an
anthropologist; I came here because so little is known about the Matriarchate
in the worlds of the Unity, and I wanted them to know the truth about you, not
garbled lies. I can tell the worlds of the Unity what you really are," she
added, hopefully, but Vaniya's face was carved in stone.

 
          
"An anthropologist.
To study us," she repeated
slowly, her mouth twisting a little as if the words dirtied them. She
physically drew away from Cendri.

 
          
"But
we loved you," she said, slowly, in amazement. "We trusted you. We
loved you. And you betrayed us!"

 
          
The
silence lengthened. Cendri felt her eyes fill with tears, felt them spill over
and run cold down her cheeks, but she said nothing. There were a dozen things
she wanted to cry out.

 
          
And
I loved you, Vaniya. 1
trusted
you,
enough
to
risk
Dai's
life at your
hands.

 
          
You
ask
if I have
learned no shame among
you. I have learned to be
ashamed
that women can so abuse their power.
Tyranny is
tyranny, be it
the
tyranny of the man over the
woman,
or of the
woman
over the man.

 
          
But
she said none of these or the other thoughts surging in her mind. She stood
with her head held firmly erect before Vaniya—she had done nothing wrong, she
was a Scholar of University, not a spanked child—but she could not keep the
tears from scalding her cheeks.

 
          
It
wasn't a
lie. It
wasn't
betrayal.
I
loved you, all of you, 1
lived
 
with you. I
visited the
sea with
you____

 
          
She
had finally opened her mouth to speak when there was an outcry in the hallway.
Vaniya thrust Cendri aside, saying roughly, "What is this commotion in my
house?"

 
          
There
were the sounds of women crying out in surprise and dismay; the doorway was
flung open and the Pro-Matriarch Mahala, accompanied by the women of her
household, stormed into the hall.

 
          
Vaniya
quickly mastered herself and said, "Tell me, my sister, how is it that you
honor my house? Is this an official visit from Pro-Matriarch to Pro-Matriarch,
or a friendly evening call?"

 
          
"It
is official," Mahala said harshly, "I now demand, my sister and
colleague, that you immediately relinquish to me such secular
authority as I need to deal with rebellion—or
do you, wallowing in your
religious observances, even know that we have a rebellion on our hands?"

 
          
Cendri,
standing forgotten, watched in dismay. Vaniya said, summoning her uttermost
dignity, "I have been occupied with the aftermath of the festival, Mahala,
and I am awaiting the birth of my daughter's daughter. The peace of the city of
Ariadne
has been left in your hands, as during all
these months of our late Mother's illness. Have you then been unable to
maintain it, my sister?"

 
          
"It
is no time for birth-festivals and merrymaking," said Mahala angrily.
"Do you not know that the men have refused to return to the delta and the
dam, refused to return to the Inland Land Reclamation Project, refused to
return to their duties on farms and factories and along the shore, refused even
to go quietly to the Men's Houses when offered a holiday to recover from the
fatigues of the festival?"

 
          
Vaniya
blinked and said, "But, no, I had heard nothing of this, my sister. Where,
then, are the men of
Isis
?"

 
          
Mahala
gestured, and suddenly, for all her forceful and angry speech, she looked
helpless and forlorn.

 
          
"They
are on the streets of Ariadne, doing nothing," she said. "They are
standing about where the cars and drivers cannot pass, they are sitting about
on the curbs so that women cannot walk in the streets,
they
are doing nothing. They
are doing
nothing," she repeated.

 
          
Vaniya
shrugged. She said, "When they are hungry, they will go back to
work."

 
          
Mahala
said, "So I too thought at first, but they have been there now all night
and all day, and another night is beginning, and they have not moved. Some of
them are on the shore, spearfishing; when we sent to warn them away, saying it
was out of season, one of their leaders told my officer that the Goddess had
given fish to the hungry, and it was theirs for the taking, and refused to
desist."

 
          
"Beat
a few of the leaders," Vaniya suggested, "and they will
scatter."

 
          
"I
have done so," Mahala said, almost in a whisper, "but we have not
enough women in all Ariadne to beat them all, and already the Punishment Houses
are full and overflowing!"

 
          
Cendri
swallowed, thinking of Yal's defiant words: There
are not
enough women
on
Isis
to beat
us
all to death.

 
          
"Finally,"
Mahala said, "a delegation came to me. They said that since you had not
listened to their messenger the first time, but had simply beaten and tortured
him, without the courtesy of replying, they would force you to take notice.
They say that you care nothing for the Companion of the Scholar Dame from the
Unity; so they have sent him with a message for you." She motioned toward
the door. "A message, they say, which you dare not ignore."

 
          
Between
two of Mahala's strongest women guards, Dal came into the room.

 
          
He
looked tired and sleepless, but he seemed otherwise uninjured. Cendri rushed to
him; he touched her hands briefly, smiling a quick, reassuring smile; then put
her gently away from him. He said, "I bear a letter for Vaniya from the
leader of the United Men of Isis."

 
          
Vaniya
frowned and said, "I do not recognize any such group or affiliation. Men
are not allowed to organize into any societies but the crafts of their trades,
or the secret religious societies of the Men's Houses."

 
          
Dal
said, "They are aware
  of
that refusal,
Pro-Matriarch. Nevertheless, they have sent me with a message."

 
          
"And
you dare to bear it to me?
Impudence!"
Vaniya
snorted. Dai's voice was calm.

 
          
"I
am here as a representative of the Unity, Vaniya, and I bear diplomatic
credentials. You need not respect them, but if you do not, the Unity will
exercise sanctions against
Isis
. May I
present the message with which the men of
Isis
have entrusted me?"

 
          
Vaniya
said grimly, "Give me the message."

 
          
Mahala
snorted. "This is what comes of your kind of liberalism, Vaniya—allowing
some men to learn to read and write!"

 
          
Vaniya
ignored her, tearing open the letter. She read aloud, slowly.

 
          
" 'Respect
, worthy Pro-Matriarch Vaniya, from the men
of—'" she frowned. "It is wretchedly ill-spelled. They list some
dozen athletic guilds, and as many more Men's Houses... '
since
you have seen fit to ignore our messenger Yal and not to deliver the message to
its appointed destination, we have seized for ourselves a hostage you cannot
ignore. No harm must come to the scholar from the Unity until he carries our
message to the worlds where men are free. You will recognize this token of the
hostage we hold.'" She tore at the wrappings enclosing something inside
the letter, her face pale and taut;
unwrapped
a large
pink pearl on a fine chain.

           
Her face drained to deathly white.

 
          
"Miranda's,"
she whispered. "But—she was in her room, with a midwife in
attendance—" she whirled quickly on the assembled women.

 
          
"Lialla,
Zamila—Maret—all of you—go quickly, see if all is well with Miranda—"

 
          
The
women rushed from the room. Cendri heard their feet on the stairs. Mahala
pointed to Cendri and said with anger, "It was an evil day, an accurst day
when you came to Isis, Scholar Dame!"

 
          
"No,"
said Vaniya, looking sadly at Cendri, "it was an evil day when
that
one
came to
Isis
." She pointed at Dal. He leaned close
to Cendri and whispered, "Since we came on the same day, they're both
right.
As usual.
That's the hell of it, they're both
right!"

 
          
It
was all Cendri could do to keep back an outburst of idiot laughter, bubbling up
from somewhere deep inside her. But Dal was right. This was the real tragedy of
Isis
; that these two women, locked in their
deadly rivalry, still wanted the same thing; they wanted what was best for
Isis
, as they saw it.

 
          
Suddenly,
from the upper floors of the house, loud cries of consternation broke out, and
the sounds of running feet on the stairs.

 
          
The
women burst back into the room in a clustered group, huddling together like
frightened small birds.

 
          
"Miranda,"
Zamila wailed. "Miranda is gone! She is nowhere in the house!"

 
          
Lialla
cried, "The midwife lies unconscious on the stairs; she has been struck
and we cannot revive her!"

 
          
Vaniya
stared at them, blanched, her mouth trembling. Then, slowly, she turned to
Cendri and Dal. She said, slowly, holding Miranda's pearl on its chain, clasped
against her heavy bosom, "If any harm comes to Miranda, you will pay for
this, whatever the Unity may do to me for it."

 
          
Cendri
began to cry softly. Miranda, her first friend here, loved like a sister—what
would become of her, pregnant and ill, in the hands of the men, at the mercy of
men with the memory of generations of abuse, slavery, torture! Would they
ill-treat her for Vaniya's sake, or to revenge themselves for the treatment of
their messenger?

 
          
Then,
and for a moment the memory seemed incongruous, she remembered the night when
she had lain with the other women at the edge of the sea; remembered the
adolescent boy who had given her his athlete's garland, weeping against her
breast and saying that she reminded him of his mother. Suddenly she was sure
they would not harm a pregnant woman, a mother.
A Mother.
She wished she could share this sudden certainty with Vaniya, but the older
woman had not looked at her since that first angry, contemptuous rejection.

           
"Vaniya—" Mahala said
gently, and the older woman turned dazed, suffering eyes on her. Vaniya said,
in a stifled whisper, "Miranda! Goddess guard and protect her, my poor
child—"

 
          
Mahala's
voice was gentler than Cendri had ever heard it. She said, "Truly, truly,
I grieve for you, sister, I have daughters and grand-daughters of my own. But
we have a rebellion on our hands, and although I sympathize with your personal
sorrow, the time leaves us no leisure for grieving. We must somehow manage to
remove these men from the streets and send them back to their work and their
Men's Houses. Will you delegate me the secular authority to deal with it then,
sister, if you do not feel qualified to deal with it yourself?"

 
          
"I
suppose you are right," Vaniya said wearily. "Miranda is my daughter,
and she is brave; she must endure whatever comes to her, as every woman on our
world must endure the days to come, and I cannot compromise my duty for the
safety of one woman, however dear to me."

 
          
"Spoken
like a true Pro-Matriarch," said Mahala. "There are weapons in the
armories; they were used against predators when we cleared the land. I think we
must authorize their use, now. They may resist whips and persuasion, but if we
fire a few shells into their midst—"

 
          
Vaniya
stared at her in horror. She said, "My sister, this would be war!"

 
          
Mahala's
voice was angry. "You who are lost in your religious sentiment, my sister,
do you not yet recognize that the men have forced this war upon us?"