The Shattered Chain (22 page)

“Stolen,” said Camilla, her mouth lifting in a sneer.

“No, for it bears her name and a good description.” She went to Magda and handed her the safe-conduct. “Did my kinswoman truly give this to you?” “She did.”

“No one can force Rohana to do anything she does not want to do,” Jaelle said, “and I have never known her to lend her name to any wickedness. Are you truly on a mission in her name?”

Magda nodded. Jaelle said, “But you are not an Amazon, are you? How came you to try to pass yourself off as one, Margali—if that is truly your name?”

“It is the name I bore as a child.” Magda blinked, for a moment afraid she would cry. But she spoke without faltering. “My mission is an honorable one, and it was the Lady Rohana who suggested to me that I dress and bear myself as an Amazon.” She raised her head, still stinging with Jaelle’s blows. “I have disgraced no one! If I had avoided your camp, no harm would have been done; but in this storm I did not want to sleep out of doors.”

“No,” said Jaelle. “You narrowly escaped frostbite as it was. So you thought you could get through the night without betraying yourself—”

“And then it seemed to me that those men knew something of importance to my mission. Something so important that nothing else seemed to matter.”

“What prompted you to wear men’s boots? Was it only ignorance?”

“Lady Rohana provided the boots,” said Magda, “but I knew no better.”

Camilla laughed suddenly. “I told the Lady Rohana that her ignorance of our customs would make trouble sometime; but it came many years later than I thought it would! Well, she meant well; I suppose if you had met no real Amazons you might have passed, indeed, as one of us.”

Jaelle said curiously, “But, were you not afraid to travel in the Hellers, alone, and with winter coming on?”

A few hours ago Magda would have said, “No, I was not afraid.” Now, having tasted fear, she was more honest with herself. “I was afraid, yes. But it seemed to me that my mission was more important than fear.”

For the first time Jaelle’s eyes were, a little kinder. “So you felt the dress of an Amazon would protect you? Well, the disguise even deceived us, for a little while, and it seems to me that in general you tried to conduct yourself in such a way as to bring no disgrace upon our dress and name. It is not your fault you failed. But what put it into your head to come alone on such a mission, my girl? Was there no man to whom you could turn, no relative, no father, no warden, overlord or guardian? What is the mission on which you must travel alone?”

Having no better idea, Magda told the truth; or as much of it as she dared. “A near kinsman”—
(A husband is related, damn it, related by marriage at least…
)—”is held at Sain Scarp for ransom. If he is not ransomed by midwinter, he will be tortured and killed.”

“And no man in your family or household would help you? But I do not understand this,” Jaelle said. “If you had the right to appeal to the Lady Rohana, you would have had an equal right to appeal to her husband or to her sons for their aid.”

Magda said steadily, “I have no right to appeal to the Lady Rohana. She aided me out of kindness and charity, because I had none other to help me.”

“Ah, that is like her,” said Jaelle. “No lame dog of the mountains ever came limping in vain to her doorstep.” She sighed and yawned, covering her mouth with a small hand, so graceful it was hard to believe she had wounded a man, had beaten Magda with those same small hands. “Well, I am not your guardian, and your affairs are none of my business; normally I would feel bound to help anyone under the shelter of my kinswoman’s patronage. But there is a more serious point at issue here. It seems to me, truly, that you have shown a spirit almost worthy of a true Amazon, venturing alone into the Hellers in the decline of the year, instead of calling upon some man for protection. You were stupid, yes, and you were unlucky; but if stupidity were a crime, half the human race would be outlawed at every crossroad, and—how says the proverb?
If ill luck were Cheese, dairywomen would go wanting work.
Just the same”—she frowned—”no one may be allowed to impersonate a Free Amazon. Camilla has told us how one such impersonation was punished!”

Magda shuddered, but forced herself to say boldly, “You have said it yourself: I did nothing to disgrace you. And I know that Lady Rohana was allowed to travel with your band, dressed as one of you.”

“True. But the law requires that before this is allowed, the woman must have the permission of the elected leader, and the consent of every one of the women who is to travel in their company.”

“Then give me such permission,” Magda challenged, and Jaelle broke into an unexpected smile.

“I almost wish the laws of our Guild permitted it,” she said half aloud. “A thousand pities Rohana did not know how inflexible is that law. Had she sent for me, and asked that leave,
before
you had shown yourself in Amazon’s dress, I almost believe—” She sighed, and said, “Well, the law does
not
allow me to give you that permission once you have invaded the privacy of my women in disguise: unknowing, perhaps, in ignorance of your crime, but invaded nonetheless. There was a day—and if we are not vigilant it could come again on Darkover—when we were invaded constantly by enemies, spies, seeking to learn something of our ways and weaknesses, or to carry tales about us, hoping to slander us to our disadvantage. The penalty for a man who invades us in disguise is death or mutilation, as we may choose and as circumstances dictate. For a woman the penalty never changes. Before you depart from us, the lie must become truth: You must take the oath of the Free Amazons, here and now.”

Magda’s first reaction was,
Oh, is that all?
Jaelle saw the relief in her face, for her voice hardened. “Don’t dare to take it lightly,” she said, “for if you swear it, and later betray it, any Free Amazon on Darkover may kill you where you stand; you are a dead woman the moment you put your nose out your own window!”

It flashed across Magda’s mind:
An oath under duress is not valid.
That was the Terran Magda; in the next moment the Darkovan girl Margali, who had grown up at Caer Donn, absorbing the way of life, the codes, the beliefs of her Darkovan playmates almost more deeply than those of her parents, thought,
An oath I cannot betray; how can I do this?

The conflict was terrible; she felt as if she were being wrenched apart.
I have come and gone between two worlds with impunity; now I must pay the price, and I do not know if I can!
She put her hands over her face, in a futile attempt to conceal her emotions.
If I refuse, will they kill me here and now?

“Will you take the oath?”

Magda said, “What choice have I?”

“None, I fear. I owe it to my women, and to every woman of the Guild, that none shall invade us and carry our secrets outside. If you will not swear, we will simply have to carry you, as prisoner, back to the nearest Guild-house, and there keep you until you are willing to be sworn, or until midwinter-night when all our Guild meet in reunion and our judges can hear your story and decide what is to be done with you. It may be that no penalty will be exacted, that you will be sworn to secrecy about what you have seen and you will be allowed to depart.”

“To that much I will swear willingly,” said Magda, and meant it.

“But I am not empowered to take
that
oath from you. That can be given only by a judge, and at midwinter-night, and only after hearing everything that bears upon the case;
if,
for instance, you had several young children and there were none else to assume their care, or you had already sworn a Keeper’s oath to a Tower. If you prefer, then, we can take you now to Neskaya Guild-house—it is only a tenday ride from here—and leave you to be judged at midwinter.”

And by that time Peter would be dead by torture!

I guess I’ll have to take their damned oath. It will give me time to decide what to do. …

Probably all it entailed—she remembered the few Darkovan oaths whose content and form she had heard—was a pledge not to harm any Free Amazon, and not to betray any of their secrets.
And I don’t know any of them, so that’s safe enough to promise! I can do that much honorably.

But if there is more?
She felt a kind of despair. “I will take the oath,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady.

Jaelle nodded. “I thought you would,” she said. “Come, let us get it over with, then; we are all weary, and you more than any, I should imagine. Come here to the fire and stand among us.”

Magda obeyed. Jaelle was standing directly before the fire, her back to the flames; Magda noticed again how very young she looked. How old could she be? Twenty-two, twenty-three … hardly more than that! The women made a circle around them. Camilla came to Jaelle and said in an undertone, “You are young for this; do you want me to take her oath?”

Jaelle patted the lined old cheek. “Dear aunt, you are always ready to spare me or shield me, but if I am
old
enough to be elected leader of a band, surely I am old enough to punish intruders, or to take an oath.”

She said to Magda, “Bare your breasts before us.”

Startled, confused, Magda fumbled with the laces of her torn tunic. Part of her, at this moment, the trained agent who never stopped taking mental notes for later use, was excited—the graduate anthropologist participating in an unusual and secret tribal custom; but the rest of her was just a frightened girl, ashamed as any girl reared in Caer Donn would have been ashamed, to stand with her body bared before strangers. She fumbled with the laces; Sherna came and pulled the tunic down so that she stood before them, bare to the waist, shivering. She clenched her fists at her sides, resisting the impulse to cover herself with her hands, as one by one the women came and solemnly inspected her bare breasts.

This must have been an ancient way of making sure they were not invaded by men in disguise. I’ll bet there was a time when the candidate
—
or the intruder
—
had to strip herself bare, head to foot.
She bit her lip hard to keep from breaking into nervous laughter—or tears.
I feel like a horse in the market!

When every one of the women had looked her over, Jaelle said, “Have we all verified that this is in truth a woman, and not a man come in disguise to mock us? If there are any doubts we shall have this one stripped naked; any of you has the right to demand it.” Magda was no longer able to be elated at this verification of her guess; she stood shivering, her eyes cast down. But no one demanded it, and Jaelle nodded.

“So be it; we accept you as a woman. Now, you have cut your hair and come among us of your free will; so I call upon you to repeat the oath given in the days of Varzil the Good, to the Guild of Free Amazons, in accordance with the Charter kept at Nevarsin. In the presence of these witnesses, repeat after me: From this day forth I renounce the right to marry save as a freemate. No man shall bind me
di catenas
and I will dwell in no man’s household as a
barragana.”

Stumbling over the words, Jaelle prompting her at intervals, Magda repeated the words. No man shall bind me …”
Nothing,
she thought,
is less likely than that I should ever want
—
or any Terran-born woman should be allowed
—
to marry
di catenas,
by the old religious ritual. And a
barragana
is simply a kept woman, a concubine.

“I swear that I am prepared to defend myself by force if I am attacked by force, and that I shall turn to no man for protection.”

Magda repeated the words; again, feeling that she was actually disintegrating.
Two of me
—
the Terran Magda, the Darkovan Margali
—
and they’re breaking apart! Who am I? Who will I be after this?