The Saga of the Renunciates (89 page)

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Authors: Marion Zimmer Bradley

Tags: #Feminism, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fiction, #Short Stories, #Science Fiction, #Fantasy, #General, #Space Opera, #Adventure, #American, #Epic, #Fiction in English, #Fantasy - Epic

BOOK: The Saga of the Renunciates
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THENDARA GUILD-HOUSE

SISTERHOOD OF RENUNCIATES

Sherna and Vanessa were laden with the baskets; Rafaella alone had a free hand to ring the bell. In the front hall, a heavily pregnant woman let them in, closing and locking the door after them. “Oh, Vanessa, is it the night for the Bridge Society? I had forgotten.” But she gave Vanessa no chance to answer. “Rafi, your daughter is here!”

“I thought Doria was still busy among the
Terranan
,” said Rafaella, not very graciously. “What is she doing here, Laurinda?”

“She is giving a lecture, with the box which makes lighted pictures on the wall, to seven women who are to be trained as healing assistants, beginning next tenday,” said Laurinda. “ ‘
Nurses
,’ the
Terranan
call them, isn’t that a funny word? It sounds as if they were going to work breast-feeding
Terranan
babies, and that’s not what they’re being trained for at all. Just caring for the sick and bedridden, and looking after wounds and the like. They must be nearly finished now; you could go in and speak to her. ”

Vanessa asked, “Is Margali n’ha Ysabet within the house? I am here with a message for her. ”

“You are fortunate,” the woman said, “she is to set out tomorrow morning for Armida, with Jaelle n’ha Melora. They would have gone today, before noon, but one of the horses cast a shoe and by the time the smith had done with her work, it was threatening rain; so they put off their departure till tomorrow. ”

“If Jaelle is still in the house,” Rafaella said, “I should like to speak with her. ”

“She is helping Doria with the lecture; we all know she has worked among the
Terranan
,” Laurinda said.

“Why don’t you look inside and see? They’re in the music room. ”

“I will go and put away my baskets first,” said Sherna, but Vanessa followed Rafaella toward the music room at the back of the building, and opened the door, quietly slipping inside.

A young woman, her hair cropped Renunciate style, was just finishing a slide lecture; she ticked off several points on her fingers, clicking off a colored slide as the women entered.

“You will be expected to write accurately; they will expect you to read well, and to remember what you read, and to write it down precisely. You will be given preparatory lectures in anatomy, in personal hygiene, in scientific observation and how to record what you observe, before ever you are allowed even to bring a patient a tray of food or a bedpan. You will work as assistants and aides, helping the qualified nurses to care for patients, from the very first day of your lectures; and as soon as you are taught any nursing procedures you will be allowed to do them at once on the wards. Not until your second half year of training will you be allowed to assist the surgeons, or to study midwifery. It is hard, dirty work, but I found it very satisfying, and I think you will too. Any questions?”

One of the young women curled up on the floor listening raised her hand.

“Mirella n’ha Anjali?”

“Why must we have lessons in personal hygiene? Do those Terrans think that Darkovan people are dirty or slovenly, that they must teach us this?”

“You must not take it personally,” said Doria. “Even their own women must learn new and different ways of cleanliness when they study nursing; cleanliness for everyday use, and surgical cleanliness for when they must work around people who are very ill, or who have unhealed wounds, or are exposed to disease germs and contagion, are not at all the same, as you will learn. ”

Another woman asked, “I have heard that the
uniforms
—” she stumbled over the unfamiliar word, “worn by the Terran workers are as immodest as the wear of a prostitute. Must we wear them, and will it violate our Oath?”

Doria indicated the white tunic and trousers she was wearing. She said, “Customs differ. Their standards of modesty are different from ours. But the Bridge Society has been successful in creating a compromise. Darkovan women employed by Medic wear a special uniform designed not to offend our standards, and it’s so comfortable and warm that many of the Terran nurses have chosen to adopt it. And before you ask, the symbol on the breast of the uniform—” She indicated the red emblem, a staff with entwined snakes. “It’s a very old Terran symbol indicating Medical service. You will be expected to know a dozen such symbols in order to find your way around the HQ. ”

“What does it mean?” one young girl, not more than fifteen, asked.

“I asked my own teacher this. It is supposed to be the symbol of a very old Terran God of Healing. No one now worships him, but the symbol has remained. Any other questions?”

“I have heard,” said one woman, “that the Terrans are licentious, that they regard Darkovan women as being—being like the women of the spaceport bars. Is this true? Must we carry knives to protect ourselves there?”

Doria chuckled. She said, “Jaelle n’ha Melora lived among them for a time. 1 will let her answer that. ”

A small woman with flaming red hair stood up at the back of the room. “I cannot speak for all Terran men,” she said, “even among the Gods, Zandru and Aldones have not the same attributes, and a
cristoforo
monk behaves differently than a farmer in the Valeron plains. There are boorish men and roughnecks among the Terrans as well as on the streets of Thendara. But I can assure you that among the Terrans in the Medic Department, you need not fear discourtesy or molestation; their Medics are sworn by oath to treat everyone, patients of professional associates, with proper courtesy. In fact, it may disturb you that they will not seem to take any note of whether you are a man, a woman, or a piece of machinery, but will treat you as if you were novice Keepers. As for carrying knives, it is not the custom among the Terrans, and you will not be allowed to bring any weapons for defense into the Medic Department. But then, the Terrans will not be carrying them either: it is forbidden by their regulations. The only knives you will see anywhere in Medic are the surgeon’s scalpels. Are there any other questions?”

Vanessa realized that the questions could go on until the bell rang for the evening meal. She said, from where she stood by the door, “I have a question. Is Margali n’ha Ysabet within this room?”

“I have not seen her since noonday,” Doria said, then saw Rafaella in the doorway beside Vanessa.

“Mother,” she called, and hurried to Rafaella, enveloping her in an enormous hug. Jaelle, smiling, came to her old friend, and the three women stood for a moment embracing.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Jaelle. Damn, how long has it been? For the past three years we’ve kept missing each other; whenever I’m in Thendara, you’re out at Armida, and whenever you come to the city, I’m likely to be somewhere north of Caer Donn!”

“It’s only luck this time; Margali and I were supposed to leave at noon,” Jaelle said. “I have been away from my daughter for a pair of tendays. ”

“She must be a big girl now, Dorilys n’ha Jaelle,” said Rafaella, laughing. “Five, isn’t she, or six by now? Old enough to bring her to the house for fostering. ”

“There’s time enough for that,” said Jaelle, and looked away, greeting Vanessa with a nod. “I know I met you a few days ago at the Bridge Society meeting, but I have forgotten your name. ”

“Vanessa,” Doria reminded her.

“I am sorry to break up your lecture,” Vanessa said, looking at the young women who were putting away the cushions and scattering about the room, but Doria shrugged.

“It’s just as well. All the serious questions had been answered. But, they are nervous about their new work, and would have kept thinking up silly questions to be answered until the supper-bell!” She went back to the center of the room, and began packing up her slides and the projector. “How fortunate you came. You can return these to Medic for me tonight, and save me a trip through the streets at night. I borrowed them from the Chief of Nursing Education. You’ll take them back when you go, won’t you? Or are you spending the night?”

“No, I came here with a message for Margali—”

Doria shrugged again. “I am sure she’s somewhere in the House. It’s nearly time for the supper-bell. You will be sure to see her there!”

Vanessa had been long enough on Darkover, and lived long enough in Guild-houses, to be accustomed to this casual attitude about time. She was still Terran enough to feel that they really should have sent someone to fetch Margali, or at least told her where to go and find her, but she was on the Darkovan side of town, now; resigning herself, she told Doria that she would be glad to return the slide equipment to the Medic Department for her—actually, she felt it was a considerable imposition, and she was a little annoyed at Doria for asking. But Doria was a sister in the Guild, and there was no courteous way to refuse a request of this sort.

“Is there any news yet about the plane that’s down in the Hellers?” Doria asked.

Vanessa was saved from answering by a scornful sound from Rafaella.

“Foolish
Terranan
,” Rafaella said. “What do they expect? Even we poor benighted souls without the benefit of Terran science—” She made the words sound like a gutter obscenity—“know that it is folly to travel past the Hellers, at any season, and even a Terran should know there’s nothing north of Nevarsin to the Wall Around the World, but frozen wasteland! I say, good riddance to bad rubbish! If they send their foolish planes there, they must expect to lose them!”

“I think you are too hard on them, Rafi,” Doria said. “Is the pilot anyone I know, Vanessa?”

“She is not a member of the Bridge Society. Her name is Anders. ”

“Alexis Anders? I have met her,” said Jaelle. “They have not recovered the plane? How dreadful!”

Rafaella put an arm around Jaelle’s waist. “Let’s not waste time talking of the Terrans,
Shaya
, love, we have so little time together these days. Your daughter is such a big girl now, when will you bring her to the Guild-house for fostering? And then perhaps you will come back too. ”

Jaelle’s face clouded. “I don’t know if I can bring her here at all, Rafi. There are—difficulties. ”

Rafaella’s quick temper flared. “So it is true. I did not believe it of you, Jaelle, that you would go meekly back to your high-born Comyn kindred, when they had cast you off! But then, perhaps it was always certain that the Comyn would never let you go, certainly not when you bore a child to one of them! I wonder that no one has yet called your Oath in question!”

Now Jaelle’s face, too, bore the high color of anger; she had, Vanessa thought, the temper associated traditionally, by Terrans, with her flaming red hair.

“How dare you say that to me, Rafaella?”

“Do you deny that the father of your child is the Comyn lord Damon Ridenow?”

“I deny nothing,” Jaelle said angrily, “but what of that? You of all people, to reproach me with that, Rafi! Have you not three sons?”

Rafaella quoted from the Oath of the Renunciates:


Men dia pre‘ zhiuro
, from this day forth, I swear I will bear no child to any man for house or heritage, place nor posterity; I swear that I alone will determine rearing and fosterage of any child I bear, without regard to any man’s place, position, or pride. ”

“How dare you quote the Oath to me in that tone and imply that I have broken it? Cleindori is
my
child. Her father is Comyn; if you knew him, you would know how little that means to him. My daughter is an Aillard; the house of Aillard, alone among the Seven Domains, have counted lineage, from the times of Hastur and Cassilda themselves, in the mother’s line. I bore my daughter for my own house, not for any man’s! What Amazon has not done the same, unless she is so persistent a lover of women that she will not let any man touch her even for that purpose.” But Jaelle’s anger ebbed; she put her arm around Rafaella again. “Oh, let’s not quarrel, Rafi, you are almost my oldest friend, and do you think I have forgotten the years when we were partners? But you are not the keeper of my conscience. ”

Rafaella still held herself spitefully aloof.

“No, that office is now filled by that he-keeper of the Forbidden Tower—Damon Ridenow, is that his name? How can I possibly compete with that?”

Jaelle shook her head. “Whatever you think, Rafi, I keep my Oath.” Rafaella still looked skeptical, but at that moment a mellow-chimed bell sounded through the hall, announcing that in a few minutes dinner would be served.

“Dinner, and I am still wearing all the muck of the pack animals and the marketplace! I must go and wash, even if I am not to be one of Doria’s nurses! Come along up with me, Shaya. Let’s not quarrel, after all, I see you so seldom now, we have no time to waste in arguing about what we can’t change. Vanessa, will you come with us?”

“I think not, I must look for Margali n’ha Ysabet.” Vanessa watched Jaelle and her friend run up the stairs, and went toward the door of the dining room. There was a good smell of cooking, something hot and savory, the yeasty smell of fresh bread just taken from the oven, and a clatter of dishes where the women helping in the kitchen were setting out bowls and cups on the tables.

If Magdalen Lorne, known in the Guild-house as Margali, was in the Guild-house at all, she must pass through here on her way to dinner. Vanessa wondered if she would know her by sight. She had met her only three or four times, the last time only a tenday ago at a meeting of the Bridge Society within this House.

At that moment, she looked up and saw Magdalen Lorne coming toward her, along the hall from the greenhouse at the back of the Guild-house. Her arms were full of early melons. At her side, also carrying melons, was a tall, scarred, rangy woman—an
emmasca
, a woman who had undergone the dangerous, illegal and frequently fatal neutering operation. Vanessa knew the woman’s name, Camilla n’ha Kyria; knew that she had once been a mercenary soldier, was now a teacher of sword-play in the Guild-house, and knew that she was reputed to be Magdalen Lorne’s lover. That still embarrassed Vanessa a little, though not as much as it would have done before she had dwelt for months in the Guild-house and knew how commonplace and unremarkable it was. It no longer seemed to her mysterious and perverse; but she was Terran, and it embarrassed her.

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