Choices (16 page)

But you have such natural maternal
feelings
, I said, tactless as ever. Communion did not seem to
have changed my personality—or hers.

Cassandra directed the full force of
hostility at me that I had so often felt from her.
Yes
,
she said, fierce with the effort of suppressing her own pain.
And if I want children I must lock myself to a man forever, run
his household, obey him in everything. You could have had a child
any time, without even knowing the man who fathered it
. Her
thoughts were bitter, accusing. I had thrown away a wonderful
freedom, as she saw it, to enter a restricted life here. If I had
complaints now, Cassandra did not wish to hear them.

I was a little braver by now, so I asked,
Couldn’t you choose to have a child outside of
marriage?

Cassandra’s rage at my stupidity flared up
and then as quickly burned out as she saw I was genuinely ignorant.
And then what? What kind of work could I do to support myself
and my child? My family would disown me, and any work I might find
would be drudgery
. The status of natural-born was not attained
by virtue of having a gifted mother; if its father was less than
‘Graven a child was simply illegitimate. There were few enough
healthy ‘Graven men that Cassandra had no thought or hope of one of
them fathering her child.

There is no other acceptable career for a
gentlewoman except the seminary
, Cassandra said. Her face
changed, became serene, as she conveyed the thought. Her spine
seemed to stiffen and she sat up straighter.
And I should work
here, if I am able. It’s a great honor, not just for my own family,
but for all Eclipsis
.

She had the sense of mission they all shared.
Not all were here by their first choice, but all had come to
embrace their life with gratitude, feeling privileged to
participate in such an important aspect of Eclipsis’s unique
heritage. How many of us are so free, and possess so many skills,
that we can pick and choose among all the alternatives in the
world? Most of us settle for whatever we fall into, something we
manage not to fail at. I recalled my own reflections on marriage
and children, on Dominic and on becoming a sibyl.

Cassandra followed my musings with just a
hint of mockery.
You see, she said
, gloating a little,
you understand what I’m saying after all.

Raquel, when her turn came, was both
comforting and bracing. She had few maternal feelings, and had
hoped from an early age to join a seminary. There was little rage
in her, and not so much judgment of me. Unlike Cassandra, she had
no regrets, nothing she missed in the outside world. She had made
her choice easily, and expected I would do the same. But the thing
that made my choice hard for me, my love for Dominic, baffled her.
He’s dangerous
,
Amalie. A woman would be foolish to
put herself in his power
.

I know what he is
, I said.
I’m
not in his power
. I sat pensive and silent in the communion,
searching for an analogy to illustrate this unusual love.
It’s
like swimming in the ocean
, I said, thinking of the few times
on Terra when I had been able to enjoy that thrilling experience.
Sometimes it’s too rough and you just stand at the edge. At
other times it’s calmer and you can dive in, ride waves or float.
But there’s always someone watching, a lifeguard, to rescue you,
just in case
.

Raquel’s face was blank, reflecting her
mind’s inability to make the connection. There is no swimming on
Eclipsis; the lakes and streams are ice water all year round, the
air too cold to make immersion any more inviting than suicide. The
settlements are mostly inland, and few people have seen the sea or
the shore, a narrow strip of rocks and shells at the base of
cliffs. The Eclipsian word I had used for “swim” is archaic; its
modern meaning is “sink” or “drown.”

Still, I had started this simile, and I
finished it.
With our love, there’s always the lifeguard, in my
mind and in Dominic’s, like the observer for the cell. He would not
allow himself to abuse me, and I would not let him try. If I sensed
that in him, directed at me, I could not love him, just as I would
not try to swim during a hurricane—a storm. But I do love him, so I
know I am not in danger.

Raquel laughed; in communion it produced a
feeling like the gentle waves in a bathtub, warm water lapping at
my skin.
Very pretty, Amalie. You could be a poet, if you learn
to play the lyre.
She showed me the image in her mind, the
stringed instrument used by bards as they chant the epics of
Eclipsian mythology at ‘Graven feasts, her way of mitigating the
sting of the sarcastic words.
But make sure your ‘lifeguard’
does not lull you into recklessness.

Each day seemed to increase my proficiency in
communion. As each member of the cell took a turn working with me,
I felt I was developing the hard shell, the scab in the mind where
my exposed raw flesh had at first been blistered by the searing
contact of full communion. Yet when I tried to take a place in the
cell, although the pain was less, still the group didn’t function
properly. There was an impediment, a block, which prevented my
contribution from meshing efficiently with that of the others.

After each abortive attempt the impatience
and disappointment of my coworkers were increasingly demoralizing.
Only Matilda held us all together. “Wait,” she said. “Don’t give
up. Wait at least until we’ve all had a chance to work alone with
Amalie. Then we’ll decide.”

When Tomasz’s turn came, last as he had
promised, I was apprehensive but absurdly hopeful. I was interested
in communion with Tomasz. I would learn of his love for Alicia, see
the perspective of a man who would be entering a chosen marriage of
love. I wanted to know what marriage on Eclipsis looked like from
the enemy position. Since I had weathered communion with the
others, I felt better able to cope with the additional burden of
possible sexual interest. Besides, I thought, Tomasz must be aware
of my feelings by now, or rather my lack of them. He would not
subject himself to another rebuff.

I was wrong. Early in our first communion he
went straight at me, touching me somewhat as Dominic had, mentally,
with accompanying bodily sensations. As always, I recoiled from the
unwanted contact. It was a reflex by now, instinctive.

After the talk that had followed the
love-fest, when I had been initiated into full communion, I
understood that, as with Paolo and Raquel at Midwinter, this
intimacy was seen as a natural outgrowth of the work we did. I knew
I was expected to respond positively, but that did not change my
physical reaction, which continued to be, as on Terra, nausea.

I had forced myself to endure the sickness a
few times when I was young, so as to experience sex. But as I grew
older and nothing changed, I lost any desire to suffer such
discomfort in return for so little enjoyment. In my lessons here I
had learned that our telepathic powers affect our sexuality just as
they do every aspect of our lives, that the mental, physical,
emotional and sexual energies are all controlled in the brain. I
had begun to hope that, at La Sapienza, surrounded by other gifted
people, things might be different for me sexually—better. Tomasz’s
and Matilda’s interest in me proved that, on the contrary, things
were very much the same. In my whole life, only Dominic had
produced a response in me that was entirely pleasurable.

When Tomasz felt my unexpected withdrawal he
took his mind out of mine. “What is it, Amalie?” he asked, the
desire still strong in him, his voice tender. “Am I doing something
wrong? Is it done differently on Terra?”

“No, Tomasz,” I said, the humor of it
softening me a little. I reached a hand to him, felt the slight
jump of
crypta
between us, what any two telepaths set off
at the touch of skin. “It’s only that I can’t feel passion for
anyone except—” I hated to mention Dominic’s name, didn’t like to
have to discuss something so precious in this distasteful
situation.

“But Amalie,” Tomasz said. He knew what I had
been about to say. “What has Dominic Aranyi to do with this? He’s
not here.” I sensed the emotion behind his words, his extreme
dislike of Dominic from his own time in the ‘Graven Military
Academy.
The gods be thanked
, he was thinking,
that
there are rules for seminaries, that a man like Dominic Aranyi is
not allowed to force his way in here
. “You are here, and so am
I,” he spoke aloud. He thought at me intently before finishing the
sentiment. “And if you can truly love such a man, surely you can
find it in you to be kind to me.”

I wasn’t quite sure how to answer, but
thought I saw a solution. “I do love Dominic,” I said, looking into
Tomasz’s brown eyes that had a hangdog look now. “I love him as
much as you love Alicia.” Our communion had shown me that much,
that Tomasz’s love for Alicia was deep and protective, a physical
and emotional bond that seemed as strong as mine with Dominic.
“Alicia must be hurt to see you pursuing me so openly.” I was
earnest and self-righteous, thinking how I would feel if Dominic
were attracted to another woman and cruel enough to let me see
it.

Tomasz stared at me as if he could not
believe his ears. I had implied a kind of jealousy that is almost
unknown here, and had insulted both him and Alicia without
realizing it. “You have no right to speak of Alicia in that way,”
Tomasz said, truculent as he defended his beloved, then relenting
as he saw my ignorance. “Surely you understand that I do not feel
for you the kind of love I share with Alicia.”

“Yes,” I said, glad that we could speak
openly, clear things up. “I do know that. That’s what I’m saying.
Why do you keep after me when Alicia is here at La Sapienza,
available to you at any time, and all you want from me is—” I
didn’t know the right word. The Eclipsian sexual vocabulary is
complex; the same word, with a slightly different pronunciation or
inflection, can go from being a simple expression of fact to an
insult or a vile epithet.

Tomasz supplied the term. “Comfort,” he said,
smiling. “Don’t you see? You are beautiful, and—” Now he thought
for a word. “Disturbing.” As I frowned, he said, “You can’t help
it, we all know that. But since your arrival, you make some of us
wake in the night with dreams.” He had the decency to look at the
floor when he said this.

“So because of your— thoughts— of me,” I
said, “you expect me to be accommodating.” The idea was repugnant.
My face, without my being able to control it, took on a sneering
look. I could feel my mouth turning down, my eyebrows rising.

Tomasz was still careful not to meet my eyes.
“That’s right, Amalie,” he said, happy I had understood. “Once you
ease this ache in my—” He pointed to his groin, trying to speak
delicately to what he now saw as a shy foreigner. “Once you comfort
me, this tension will be gone. You can join the cell and it will
function properly.”

He dared to look up, into my face, when his
innocent little speech was done, and was staggered by the
expression he saw there. “Oh, Amalie,” he said, both contrite and
exasperated, “it’s a simple fact, after all. Lovemaking isn’t so
terrible, is it?” He tried again to touch me, with his mind and
also his hands this time. “I’m not such a bad lover, you know. I
will make sure I satisfy you, not merely take my own pleasure.”

I moved away, preventing the attempted touch,
and blurted out my first, cynical reaction. “Is that why you came
to a seminary: you get first crack at every female novice? And all
in the name of making the cell run smoothly?” I stared at the bulge
in his breeches where he had pointed, thinking that there had to be
a simple way to cope with this. If I spoke witheringly enough, if I
put my own wishes into concrete form in my mind, maybe I could
deflate his erection with the counterforce of my gift.

Tomasz was frustrated now, not only sexually,
but from what to him was a bizarre conversation becoming
increasingly insane. He shrugged in disgust and walked to the
window. “If I wanted women,” he said, “I would not have to lock
myself in with just ten of them, most of them twice my age, and
force myself on a so-called empath who doesn’t have the perception
of an ungifted child.” He overrode my attempts to defend myself.
“I’ve been honest with you. But you must realize that by refusing
me, by acting in this selfish way, you’re preventing yourself from
taking a place in the cell.”

I had never heard such a tired line, was sure
that Eclipsian men must so often get exactly what they want that
they’ve never had to think up an original or believable approach.
There was an easy way to disprove his lofty sentiments, his claim
that all this was more than just a pretense to get me into bed with
him. “What about Paolo?” I asked. “When he arrived, did he wake in
the night with thoughts of you? Did you ‘accommodate’ him, ‘ease
the ache’ in him, so that the cell could ‘function properly?’” I
was snickering as I spoke, anticipating Tomasz’s chagrin at being
tripped up by his own faulty line of reasoning.

Tomasz’s face showed only confusion and
suspicion. He had not been expecting this question, was not certain
what I meant or was insinuating. “Of course,” he said. “Didn’t you
hear anything I just said?”
If she is so prejudiced
against
vir
, how can she be in love with Margrave
Aranyi
? he was wondering. “Once Paolo was comforted,” he said,
“he lost interest in me.” He laughed. “I’m not really his
type.”

His face brightened; he thought he had
finally gotten through to me. “And you’re not my type, either. Once
we’re together a few times, the tension will be gone, we’ll get
bored, and it will all be over. That’s the idea, to not have this
coming between us, disrupting everything else.”