Venus of Dreams (15 page)

Another young man sat down to the right of Jon; Peter, who was passing the table, stopped and set down his own plate on Jon's left.

"I was talking to a man on his way north," Jon continued. "Said a man was murdered over in Spencer." He paused, clearly wanting to draw out the tale and make it more suspenseful.

Laiza shrugged. "It happens sometimes," she said languidly, as if she heard such stories all the time. "Bet they'll get a lot of trouble from their Counselor now."

"There was a murder here once, a long time ago," Daria blurted out, beaming when she saw that she had Jon's attention again. "My mother told me about it. Everybody knew who the murderer was, though, so they held a town meeting and then decided to string him up from a tree, so they did. The murderer said he was drinking, as if that's an excuse. Our Counselor wasn't too happy when he heard, but he couldn't arrest the whole town, and anyway, it saved everybody a lot of trouble, the way I see it. Lincoln got off with a warning, and we haven't had any trouble since."

Iris glared at the red-haired girl; such stories did not make a good impression on outsiders. "That happens in lots of places," Jon said casually. "As long as there's real evidence, or a confession, I don't think most Linkers care—keeps things under control. I always figured it was better to handle your own shit instead of dragging Linkers and Counselors into it." He paused. "But that isn't what happened in Spencer. This man who was killed—the fellow on the floater told me he was a Counselor."

Daria gasped; Laiza arched her brows. People at some of the nearer tables had fallen silent, anxious to overhear more.

Peter leaned back in his chair. "Why, in the name of the Spirit," he asked, "would someone kill a Counselor?"

"I don't know." Jon ate a forkful of stew and wiped up some gravy with a piece of bread. "Maybe the Counselor told him something he didn't want to hear. Maybe he just didn't like the Nomarchies or something. Anyway, this man on the floater told me the guy just walked right in during the Counselor's visit and shot him."

"Was he there?" Iris asked.

"The fellow I talked to?" Jon shook his head. "No, but he said he heard it from a woman who knew someone who was. I'll tell you something else. In the past couple of months, I've run into a lot of mechanics here and there, and not one of them mentioned being anywhere near Spencer."

"That doesn't mean anything," Laiza said. "Spencer's even smaller than Lincoln, isn't it? Maybe they didn't need anybody. Maybe somebody else was there and just didn't tell you about it."

"Maybe." Jon sipped some wine. "I didn't think anything of it then—I mean, I hadn't heard the story yet. But now, I wonder. We jaw a lot when we run into each other, most of us—we always talk about where we've been and where we're going. It just seems funny—like they've closed off that whole town."

"That's ridiculous," Peter said. The bearded man had been casting oblique glances at Jon before apparently realizing that the young man was more interested in the girls. "Why, if anything like that had happened, the news would be all over the Plains."

"Maybe not," Jon replied. "Not if Spencer really was closed off."

"But why would they close it off?" Iris asked.

"Do you think they'd want people to find out about it? How would it look? Counselors have to be able to make their rounds—having one murdered isn't going to make them feel secure, and having the word get out could give other crazy people ideas. The murderer had to be crazy. He must have known he couldn't get away with it."

The large room was humming with murmurs; Iris could hear gasps at the other end of the room as people heard the story for the first time.

"How could he do it, anyway?" Peter said. "I doubt he could have wandered into a session with a shotgun." Shotguns and rifles, often used to take potshots at mice and rats, were the only weapons Lincoln had.

"Maybe he got hold of a pistol somehow, or a beamer." Jon munched on some salad. "Who knows? But the guy who talked to me said this woman told him it happened, all right."

"I think you might have been misled," Peter said. "You can't keep something like that a secret."

"You sure can," Jon responded. "It's like this guy told me. First, you can close off the town, and then you maybe send in Linkers or militia or maybe even Guardians to see if anybody knew what the murderer was up to—they have plenty of ways to find out. I know—a friend of mine did some work on the bands that police in cities sometimes use for questioning. Then you throw such a scare into everybody that they're afraid to talk. Maybe it wouldn't matter even if they did talk. This fellow on the floater said they could keep a place like Spencer closed off for a long time, bring in workers from outside the Plains who they trust, say, or who won't talk. Oh, there's lots of things they can do."

"They couldn't keep it closed up forever," Laiza said. "People would wonder why after a while."

"Yeah, but nobody would
know
." Jon finished his food and put an elbow on the table. "And after a while, things get back to normal and it's just another rumor a lot of people won't believe." He gestured at Peter. "This fellow doesn't believe it."

"I certainly don't." Peter stood up and carried his plate to another table. Iris doubted that the bearded man's disbelief would keep him from passing the story on. She shivered as she thought of Jon's tale; their feast would be enlivened by speculation for most of the evening.

"I'm going to help myself to some more." Jon rose. "Anything I can fetch for you?" He grinned at Iris, who shook her head.

She smiled as he wandered off. People were glancing at the young man who had brought such an interesting rumor to them; he was the center of attention, and he was interested in her. Iris swallowed some wine. She was a woman now; Jon might be interested in more than flirting. That thought was sobering. Handsome as he was, she didn't know him; she did not know if she could talk to him or if he would understand her. She knew what her mother would say to that. Angharad would say that if a man was a good lover, there was no need for talk; she would tell Iris that she might have done worse during her first time with a man.

"He likes you," Laiza said, sounding annoyed. Daria and the other girls had already turned their attention to the man still sifting across from them. "I just thought of something. Isn't Bart Jennifers the Counselor for Spencer too?"

Iris put down her fork. "I think he is."

"Then he'd be the victim. He'd be dead." Laiza grimaced. "Mother of God. They'd have to send another Counselor then, in the spring. That'd prove it."

Iris shook her head. "It wouldn't prove anything. Counselors get promoted or replaced."

"Maybe Peter's right, and it's just a rumor. It'd be hard to hide something like that, wouldn't it? You ought to know, Iris. You've spent enough time on those lessons of yours."

"I wouldn't know about that. I think it could be hidden, though. They could program a restriction, or even erase the records and put in another explanation of what happened."

"I wonder what happened to the murderer," Laiza said.

"He's probably dead."

Laiza shuddered. "Do you really think so?"

"They wouldn't even have to execute him. They could send him someplace where they'd know he'd die soon and get some work out of him in the meantime. Maybe they could even make him forget what he did, so he'd never talk. There are a lot of ways they could handle him." Iris looked around the room for Jon; the young man was standing near the tables of food, surrounded by a crowd wanting to hear more details of his story.

It was still night when the townsfolk, at last sated by food and drink, began to leave the town hall for their homes. Iris stood near the members of her own commune as a few people passed and murmured their congratulations to her. She gazed enviously at Laiza, who was clinging to the arm of a tall, brown-haired man; her friend had lost no time in snaring a catch. Iris thought of Jon. He had attracted an eager audience wanting to hear his story from his lips; he would have plenty of partners to choose from. He had not talked to her for the rest of the evening.

"Come by the shop tomorrow," Winnie said as she passed. "I'll have some special treats for you and the other young ladies." Winnie craned her short neck. "My, you do look pretty. No fellow to walk you home?"

"No," Iris mumbled.

"Well, time enough for that after the feast, I say. Sometimes they're just too full of food and drink to do more than pump and fall asleep on top of you, and a young woman deserves more than that."

Winnie hurried outside; Iris and her household followed the shopkeeper down the stairs. Eric let out a yawn. "Jorge said he'd come by later on," LaDonna said to Constance. "I just hope I can stay awake for him."

"If you don't," Constance replied, "I will."

They began to cross the square. A few people who had overindulged were weaving their way toward the streets; others rode in carts filled with empty dishes. Elisabeth and Lilia had remained in the town hall to visit with friends; they would bring their cart home later. Iris sighed, feeling let down. She had not eaten very much, and the wine had given her a slight headache.

"Hey, wait up!"

She turned. Jon was running toward her; he halted and took her arm. Angharad beamed as she motioned the other women forward, leaving the two young people alone.

"All right if I walk with you?" Jon asked.

"Sure."

"You wouldn't want to get pawed by some guy who's too drunk to know what he's doing."

"We can handle drunks in Lincoln. They don't try that kind of thing very often."

They passed the church and entered the street leading to Iris's house. "Tell me about yourself," Jon said. His hand was gripping her elbow; in spite of the cool night air, she felt warm.

"There's not much to tell. My mother's the leader of our commune. My grandmother's still alive, but she thought my mother could handle things better than she could. My grandmother went to New York once, a long time ago."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. She worked on the dikes once, before she came home. Then there's my mother's cousin, Elisabeth. She was the daughter of my grandmother's brother William and Tillie Ethels—Tillie's house is the first one on the road leading from the cradle. Elisabeth grew up there, but she decided to come live with us after I was born."

Jon draped his arm over her shoulder. She stiffened, about to shy away but at the same time wanting him to hold her. "You're not telling me about yourself," he said.

"Well, I've always lived here. Not much happens in Lincoln."

"Guess you'll be the leader of your commune someday."

"Maybe. I mean, it
is
up to the household even if Angharad—even if my mother passes it on to me. They'd have to approve, and my mother could always pass the leadership to Elisabeth or her daughter instead. That's one reason Tillie didn't mind letting Elisabeth live with us."

"Can't think why your mother'd do that." His breath smelled of mint, his skin faintly of cologne. He didn't reek of onions and sweat the way some of the other men did after a feast. "My mother's the leader of a commune in Wilkes, and there's no question of her giving the farm to anyone except my sister. Ellen's still a kid, though, so it won't be for a while. She's cute, my sister. Hasn't gone through her own ceremony yet and the boys are already starting to hang around. Bet a few must have made the moves on you already."

"No," Iris said. "I just started—" She could feel herself blushing.

"You're kidding me. I know a few girls have dealings with boys before their ceremonies." She thought of the time Eric had groped at her blouse on the stairs; she had nearly knocked him over the railing and had threatened not to teach him more accounting if he ever did it again. "You're pretty enough to draw somebody."

She had never thought of herself as pretty. She was too short, with stocky, muscled legs instead of slender ones like Laiza's or LaDonna's. Her legs, of course, were hidden by her long white dress. "Boys are just friends to me," she said, knowing why they would not have flirted with her even if she had looked like LaDonna. She was too serious, too preoccupied with her lessons. She had never been able to feign much interest in the chatter of the boys she knew, in their talk of games, or athletes who won glory for the Plains and credit for themselves in contests with other Nomarchies, or the adventure scenarios they followed with their bands.

"It's faces that attract me," Jon said. "That's why I liked you when I saw you. I like strong bones in a woman's face, and big eyes, and a nice, wide mouth." Even though he was talking about her as though she were a type instead of an individual, she warmed at the compliment.

Lights shone from the windows of the buildings they passed; farther down the street, Iris could see the shadowy shapes of women entering a house. She and Jon had been walking so slowly that she had lost sight of her own household's members. Jon stopped and leaned over her as he drew her closer to him; his lips brushed against hers lightly. She stepped back, startled. He cupped her chin and kissed her again.

"Hasn't anyone ever kissed you before?" he asked. She shook her head, afraid of what he might think of her.

They continued along the street. "It's all right," he went on. "I don't want to push you. I've been with a couple of others during their first time—I know what it's like. I was mighty damned scared during my own first time. A friend of mine took me to a woman he knew and practically pushed me into her bed. I wondered if I'd ever get it right." He chuckled. "It's important. If you mess it up then, or have a bad time of it, it can take a while before you get it right. Don't worry. I'll come in and meet your household tonight, and if you don't feel ready, I'll go or maybe stay with one of them, if they're willing. I'll be here for another two weeks—there's plenty of time."

She smiled at him gratefully, but wished that she had the courage to invite him to her room anyway. He did understand; she could talk to him. "My mother would like you," she said. "I think she's been wondering if anyone would want me."