The Shore of Women (62 page)

The horror of what I was seeing roused me at last. “What have you done?” I cried. “What has he done to you?”

“He’s done nothing against my will. He’s been my protector and friend. He’s loved me and I’ve come to love him as well.”

I could not bear to listen. I stumbled up. Wanderer and Shadow were sitting by the door; Wanderer lifted his spear as I took a step toward him. I turned back toward the altar, helpless. “What are you saying?”

“He was sent to kill me. He couldn’t do it. I showed him how to induce a trance, how to respond over the mindspeaker so that you’d think he had killed me. We were bound together after that, exiles from both his band and the city. We had only each other. He was only my friend at first. Later, he became something more.”

“We shall wait outside,” Wanderer said. I glanced back as he and Shadow rose. “Do not be too hard with this One, Birana. I hear truth in Her voice, and She has watched over us for many seasons. I think She will help you now.” The two stepped through the door. Wanderer’s story, the one he had invented to explain the disappearance of Birana and Arvil, had contained more truth than he knew at the time.

“I love Arvil,” Birana said. “At first, it was because I saw you in him and thought of what might have been. You should have loved me, Laissa. I would have loved you, I longed for you.” Arvil’s mouth tightened as she spoke. “Even now, I can still long for you, but it’s because I see Arvil in you.”

I sank down onto the couch, stricken with guilt once more. “Why do you sit there?” she asked. “Come and look at my daughter Nallei.”

I got up and approached her; she thrust the child into my arms. The girl had soft blond hair and Birana’s blue eyes. I guessed that she was seven months old, perhaps more; her face seemed a bit pinched, as if she lacked for food. “How can she live out here?” I murmured.

“She can’t.”

“What will you do?”

“I came here to ask you to take her into the city.”

“But how…”

“What can they do? Refuse to take an innocent little girl? She’s committed no crime. Even the Council wouldn’t condemn a baby to exile and death.”

The child stirred in my arms and began to cry. Birana took her from me, adjusted the baby’s soft leather diaper and coat, then lifted her shirt as she held Nallei to her breast. “I traveled far to bring her here,” Birana said. “I knew there was a chance for her in the city. I was going to go to a shrine, then summon someone outside through the mindspeaker. We found our way to Arvil’s old camp. I knew he wouldn’t be harmed by the men if I was with him. By then, the band had learned an aspect was here in this shrine. I wanted to come here right away, but too many bands had been seen here. We had to make camp near this shrine and wait, hoping we could speak to the woman here alone. I didn’t want the men to come with me, but Arvil wouldn’t leave me, and Shadow and Wanderer were willing to face any danger there might be. The others agreed to wait.”

“You knew that the weapons of the city could have been brought against you,” I said.

“I knew it. The men knew it. It’s why I wanted to come alone. I didn’t care what happened to me as long as Nallei was safe. You can understand that, can’t you?” She lifted the baby to her shoulder and rubbed her back. “Even my life out here hasn’t robbed me of everything. I know my obligations to my child. I wonder how many in the city would have done as much for a daughter. Laissa, will you take her back with you?”

I looked from her to Arvil. The child could not be blamed for what they had done. I would have to take her back, could not have Nallei on my conscience; I bore too much of a burden already. Even Eilaan could not stand against me.

“If I take her back,” I said, “I’ll have to tell them how I found her. They’ll have to know about you.”

“I can wait here while you send a message. Just give Arvil and the others enough time to get safely away. You can say I came alone. I know I have to die here. You’ll have done your duty, and I won’t ask for more from you.”

“No!” Arvil cried out; he put his arm around Birana’s shoulders protectively. “If you wait, I must wait with you. I won’t leave you now.”

“You know what that would mean,” I said. He nodded. “And you’d do it? You care that much for her? You’d die here with her?”

“How can you doubt it?”

I sat down beside him; my own eyes gazed out at me from his face. “Do you know what I am?”

He frowned, apparently puzzled.

“There is a bond between us of a kind,” I continued. “You are my brother, Arvil, and my twin. We were together inside our mother’s womb before she bore us, the same blood flowed through our veins. We both came from the same woman’s body and the same man’s sperm. It means that there is a kind of bond between me and this child as well. Can you understand that?”

“I see it.”

“I’ll take the girl with me, do what I can for her. She’ll have a home.” I stood up and held out my arms. “Let me take her into the ship. I have food I can give her—milk, soft fruit.” Birana drew back. “I won’t call to anyone now, I just want to see if she’s well.”

“I’ll come with you.”

She followed me into the ship while Arvil waited on the altar. As the door closed, she sat down in the front of the ship. I took out my small medical kit, removed the scanner, and passed the cylinder over Nallei’s body. “When was she born?” I asked.

“In winter.”

I peered at the scanner’s small gauge. “She’s underweight, but she seems strong enough. I’m not a physician, though. She’ll have to be thoroughly scanned when I take her back, but the physicians can tend to any problem.”

I fed her soft cereal and a little fruit; Nallei squirmed, swallowed a little, then began to cry. I rocked her, soothing her before handing her back to her mother. “Do the men who came here with you understand how she… how you…”

“Wanderer and Shadow understand,” she said. “Wise Soul comprehends a little less. The others seem to see Nallei as a kind of mystery or miracle.”

“You’ve endangered them with your actions.”

“They’re not the only ones who’ve seen her. There are others, bands who sheltered us during our journey here. What is the city going to do—destroy them all? You won’t even know which bands they are. Leave them alone, and what they know will only become another legend other men won’t believe.”

“Some stories can be powerful in time,” I said.

“Is that why you came out here, Laissa? Do you think the stories you carry back will change anything?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I want change.”

“Maybe you’ve learned enough to strengthen the power of the cities over men.”

“Perhaps. Maybe I’m preserving a record of beings who will soon be allowed to die out. I can’t tell what will come of this work. Some will conclude that those outside are hopeless, that there is no way they could ever be guided to peaceful and civilized ways.”

“Would you say that about Arvil?” she asked. “Would you believe that of Wanderer and Shadow? They knew they were taking a risk by coming here, but they were willing to share it with us. Wanderer told me that he thinks my child may soften the hearts of women toward men eventually. He wants you to know that some of his kind can hope for more.”

“We’re alone now,” I said. “You can be honest with me. Did Arvil force himself upon you? Has he so abused you by now that you’re afraid…”

“You still don’t see. Can’t you see the love in him, can’t you hear it in my words? He gave me back my life, what’s left of it, and I’m his life now.”

“You say that, but if the city would take you back, would you go?”

She closed her eyes for a moment. “Yes. It would pain Arvil, but he’d want me there if I could live. Do you think that means I don’t care for him? I’d never forget him. I’d want the city to know what he’s been to me.”

I leaned toward her. “I came out here to gather stories. I should listen to yours and his.”

“And what would that accomplish?”

“Perhaps little, but at least your daughter could hear it when she’s older, know the truth about you. There will be many who will try to tell her other stories.” I rose. “I’m willing to listen, record your words.”

“You’ll do well for yourself, Laissa. You’ll have a story no chronicler has ever told and can make sure I’m finally dead. Someday, they may put you on the Council for it.”

“I care nothing about that.”

She stood up. “You may find portions of this story hard to bear… you’d better steel yourself. You’ll have my last words. I suppose it must be told before you…”

She turned and left the ship; I followed her out. Arvil was by the door, speaking to Wanderer and Shadow; he looked back. “Will you call to your enclave now?” he asked. “Shall I tell my friends to leave this place?”

I shook my head. “They can wait outside. I want to hear your story first, yours and Birana’s, as much of it as you’re willing to tell. Please let me hear it. I must have something to tell the child later.”

Wanderer put a hand on Arvil’s shoulder, murmured to him, then backed away as the door closed. “They will wait and watch the horses,” Arvil said. “It is a long story, Lady—it may take some time to tell.”

“I’ll listen.” I sat down by the recorder.

Arvil spoke first, and when his voice grew strained, Birana continued their tale. Their story was not easy to hear, and several times I asked them to be silent so that I could regain my composure. Much of the story—the brutality they had endured, the violence they had seen—made me ill; I wanted to retreat inside the wall, think no more of the outside, imagine that such a world did not exist. Their shameless talk of their longings and how they had fulfilled each other’s needs repelled me, but I forced myself to listen.

I pitied Birana and sorrowed with her; I had expected that. Yet she had won some joy for herself throughout her suffering; she had reached out to Arvil in a way I thought impossible, while Arvil had sacrificed much to love her.

They spoke almost without pause, and as they neared the end of their tale, I began to question them, curious about gaps in the narrative. They answered willingly about their journey east and their years by the great lake but said less about how they returned to Arvil’s old camp, as if wanting to protect those who had helped them. I did not press for more answers.

I shut off the recorder and rubbed at my eyes. Nallei had fallen asleep in Arvil’s arms hours before; I wondered if it was already morning outside.

“I can imagine what you think,” Birana said, “how you feel about what I’ve done.”

“I don’t know what I think.”

“I want my daughter to know what Arvil was to me. She mustn’t think that an act of force brought her into the world, or feel hatred and contempt for her father. I want her to know love gave her life.”

“I’ll tell her,” I said, “although it might be easier for her if she believed otherwise. The city would understand an act of force and have more pity for her.”

“She must know of Birana,” Arvil said. “If she learns of her mother’s courage, perhaps her own will grow.”

Nallei stirred and began to cry. I went into the ship, picked up a shirt, and tore it into strips. “This is for you,” I said as I came back out and handed the cloth to Birana. “She needs to be changed, I think. If you like, you can clean her inside the ship.”

She took the child from Arvil and left us alone. “Are you going to summon your kind now?” he asked.

“I must rest before I do anything. I’m sure you’re tired also.”

“There will be rest for me soon enough, forever.”

“You needn’t stay. Leave with your friends. I can say that you threatened me, that you left and I couldn’t stop you.”

“Do you think I could leave her now?”

I stood up, clutching the recorder. “I don’t suppose you could.” I shook my head. “You’re just one man, Arvil, a man who was somehow able to become something better, and you won’t change a thing. The rest of your kind will always be as they are now.”

“Your kind has helped to make us this way. You don’t want us to be anything else.” He gazed at me solemnly. “If you saw into our souls, you would have to look into your own.”

I retreated into the ship; Birana picked up the child as I entered. “I must sleep,” I said.

“Are you going to…”

“I have to sleep.” I threw myself into a seat and closed my eyes.

I was alone when I awoke. I stumbled from the ship. Arvil lay on a couch as Birana nursed Nallei; I had expected them to flee, to leave Nallei on the altar for me, to take this decision out of my hands.

Wanderer and Shadow entered the shrine. “It will be dark before long,” Shadow said, “and the men will be wondering what has happened here.”

Arvil sat up. “Go!” Birana cried.

“Wait.” I held up a hand, then swayed, feeling an abyss open up beneath me, afraid I would fall. “I’ll take this child to the city, but I will not see the city act against you. You can all leave this shrine together. I’ll wait until you’re safely away before I send any message. You’ve hidden this long—you can find another hiding place.”

Birana set Nallei next to Arvil. “Laissa, you risk too much.”

“I’ll take the risk. I can atone for having failed you before, when it would have cost me little. I can say that you overcame me, that by the time I could act, you were gone. I’ll be believed.”

“You may be punished.”

“I won’t be punished.” I could say that to her, but did not believe it myself. The Council had ways of getting the truth from me.

I was throwing aside everything I had been taught for the sake of a man, a woman, and a child. I was setting myself against the city, and for what? So that Birana and Arvil could have a few more years of a very hard life, years of pain and struggle during which they would have to live in fear of both the cities and men? Death might be more merciful.

“Why are you doing this?” Birana said.

“So that I don’t have to tell your daughter someday that I was responsible for your death. So that I don’t have to live with your ghosts.”

Arvil got to his feet. “Is this so? Or do you only want us to die farther from this place?”

“You have to trust me now. Go as far from this region as you can—I don’t want to know where. If your band scatters, that will make it more difficult for the cities to find you.” I sighed. “But you know more of this world than I.”