Icestorm

by Theresa Dahlheim

  Does Sister Raula know this? Or had she thought Marjorie must have been to bed with Alain since her maidenhead was torn? Tabitha had to write to Beatris and get her to find out. It was possible that Sister Raula, and Mistress Cortille too, needed to be firmly corrected.

  Lady Josselin was speaking again, with a brisk, practical air. “… and after it’s torn, the maidenhead shrivels, making the opening to the birth canal larger. Lovemaking usually hurts less after that, but not always. Your birth canal can stretch to fit a man’s penis …”

  Stop. Stop stop stop. Tabitha pressed her fingernail into her palm hard enough to hurt, so that the pain would distract her. Old women should not talk about penises. No women should talk about penises. Men talked about them far too much already. Was she still talking about them?

  “… relaxation, and above all, his willingness to be slow and careful. If you don’t trust him to do his best not to hurt you, then you shouldn’t go to bed with him.”

  Alain had been so slow and so careful, Tabitha had not truly realized what was happening until it was too late. She had to stop thinking about it. She had to.

  “After you have made love several times, you will probably enjoy the feeling of him inside you, but likely not as much as he enjoys it. When a man’s seed discharges from his penis …”

  I am not listening. I am not listening. I don’t need to listen. I know all this already. No one needs to talk about it. Everyone needs to stop talking about it!

  “… but more often you’ll reach orgasm when he touches your clitoris, the folds of skin just above the opening to the birth canal. You can do this yourself, too. Masturbation is as normal and natural with women as it is with men. Like anything else involving your private parts, it is best kept private.” The old woman actually grinned. “There is a reason why privy closets, bathing rooms, and bedrooms have doors.”

  Dear God, don’t talk about that. Tabitha knew her face was ready to wince, and she had to focus very intensely to keep it relaxed. You are so old. Please don’t suggest that you still do it.

  Lady Josselin sipped more tea, and then continued in the same calm, factual tone that even Beatris would have envied. “Let me briefly speak of something else that the L’Abbanist Theocracies consider ‘deviant’. There are women who love other women, and men who love other men.” The sorceress shrugged, making a show of it. “Here on Maze Island, we have no laws against such preferences, and many people here feel free to be honest. The preferences themselves are not more common here than anywhere else, despite what you may have heard. Such preferences are normal and natural. The mechanics of lovemaking are different for these couples, but the feelings are the same. As long as both people are freely choosing to bed each other, it’s no one’s business but theirs.”

  A short silence held the room as the magi girls absorbed this. Tabitha allowed herself a quiet breath, relieved to no longer be listening to the old woman describe “the mechanics of lovemaking”. This was a safer topic, and she was as willing to shrug about it as Lady Josselin was. She knew two servants back in Betaul who were “deviant”, and in Tiaulon, the gossip about who was and who might be had never really interested her.

  “The feelings are the same,” Lady Josselin repeated, “and that means both physical sensation and emotions. Emotions are what I want to discuss next, since for magic-users, there is a mind-sharing aspect of lovemaking.” She drank more tea. “Lovemaking opens the mind as well as the body, so a magi couple can share pleasure that ordinary people can’t. The bond between the two minds is exhilarating. You don’t need to speak. You will know exactly how and where to touch each other, and have the stamina to spend many hours enjoying each other. Some magi find that sleeping with ordinaries is not satisfying anymore, since if they don’t have the added dimension of the mental bond, they don’t reach orgasm.”

  Please stop talking about it. It was making her imagine far too much about Lady Josselin and Lord Contare.

  “However,” the sorceress went on after translating, “the intensity of this bond can be frightening. Even those of you who aren’t virgins may find it overwhelming to bed a magus. Lovemaking is nearly always an expression of raw emotion, and it can lift many other emotions to the surface of your mind. Honesty between the two of you is absolutely essential, because you will not be able to be dishonest. If you have made love before, he will know it.”

  Those words changed everything.

  Tabitha kept the mask of polite interest on her face only because Nan had taught her so well. Her mouth had not opened, her breath had not caught, her eyes had not even widened. But only gradually did the ringing echo of those words fade and the stuffy hush of the parlor room return.

  “Many magi never sleep with other magi for that very reason,” Lady Josselin was saying. “To keep their secrets safe, and their fantasies private, they only bed ordinaries. This is something you must think about before you decide to sleep with a magus. With him, you can’t pretend to be a virgin if you’re not. You can’t pretend he’s someone else you’d rather be with. Everything is lifted to the surface, so you’d better be sure that you and he can survive the truth. Needless to say, it can be upsetting to find out that he’s not the person you thought he was, or if he finds out that you’re not the person he thought you were.”

  If you have made love before, he will know it.

  Graegor would know about Alain and Nicolas. If she slept with him he would know everything. She was not the girl he thought she was.

  No. It can’t be that way. It can’t. Was Lady Josselin just trying to scare the magi girls, like the headmistress tried to scare them with threats of expulsion? Surely she, Tabitha, as a sorceress, could keep her secrets. Kissing Graegor had not betrayed her secrets to him, even though every one of their kisses had been intense and heated, maybe almost as heated as making love to Alain had been.

  Did this rule apply only to the magi? Surely sorcerers had to keep secrets from each other. Surely there were things that Lady Josselin, even now, kept hidden from Lord Contare.

  But nothing like this.

  If Graegor knew, he would hate her, and he would leave her. She would feel his anger and disgust in their bond, just as she felt his warmth and kindness now. He would tell people she was a whore and a murderer, and everyone would know. Isabelle. Her pledged magi. Borjhul. Ferogin. Beatris and Pamela. Her father.

  But maybe Graegor had secrets too. If he did, would he understand?

  No. He could never have secrets like hers.

  Lady Josselin was still talking, and Tabitha forced herself to listen, worried that she may already have missed something important. “… pregnancy. But if it does result in pregnancy, I personally will do everything I can to help you and your baby to stay strong and well. Besides being the right and L’Abbanist thing to do, it’s in my own best interests. After all, the baby might be magi. So if you do become pregnant, but don’t want to be a mother, there are many, many people who would foster or adopt a magi child.”

  Tabitha did not care about any of that. She wanted the magi girls to leave so that she could ask her questions, sorceress to sorceress. If she could figure out how.

  “There is another choice open to a pregnant woman who does not want to be pregnant.” Lady Josselin again directed her gaze to each of them in turn. Fortunately she started on the other side of the room, and by the time she reached Tabitha, Tabitha was able to look back at her with no more than an equally serious expression.

  “That choice is abortion,” Lady Josselin said finally. The word caused a muffled gasp or two, even a few gestures of the Godcircle, and it caused more when Lady Josselin repeated it in the other languages. Tabitha, even in her silent, motionless agitation, could not help finding the reaction darkly amusing. If these girls thought killing the unborn was sacrilegious, how would they feel if they knew that she had killed two grown men?

  “You all know what the holy tracts of L’Abbanism teach us about abortion,” Lady Josselin said in a low, slow, and kindl
y voice. “You should consider those teachings if you are ever faced with this choice. You should also consider this. It can be hard for an ordinary woman to think of a baby inside her as being a person. Some women find it hard even after their bellies start to swell and their babies start to kick. A maga, though, can sense her baby. Your baby’s mind is active very early. Some mothers have told me that they knew when their babies first started to react to light, knew that their babies were soothed by the sound of human voices, knew the day before they went into labor. Two of the things I find most fascinating about this connection are, first, that it can happen even when the baby turns out not to be magi, and second, that it is broken once the baby is actually born.” She stopped, and her voice resumed the slow, careful pace with which she seemed to think appropriate for discussing abortion. “I’m sorry. I’ve strayed from the topic at hand. What I want to stress is that you should consider everything very carefully before you make a decision.” She paused again, and her tone shifted back to that of a teacher giving a lecture. “If you would like to know more about how a maga can sense, and even on some level communicate, with her baby in the womb, I wrote a book detailing some of my former students’ experiences.”

  Koren brought Lady Josselin a third cup of tea as the sorceress again translated everything she had just said. Then two of the girls raised their hands. One wanted to know if charms could help ease menstrual cramps, while the other asked if pregnancies always lasted nine months. The answers led to more questions, in Mazespaak and in other languages, and Tabitha had to force herself to patience. She tried to listen to at least some of what Lady Josselin was saying, just in case it was useful, but she could not concentrate on the talk around her anymore. Once the magi girls left the party and Tabitha could talk to Lady Josselin alone, she needed to ask her questions, and she needed to ask them in a way that did not reveal the secrets behind them.

  But how? The sorceress would not be easily fooled.

  She must keep secrets from Lord Contare. She must. Sorcerers must keep secrets. Natayl had specifically told her that. He had said, “I have secrets too. Some belong only to me, but most belong to other people, people who have entrusted me with them. Because I have mastered telepathy, I know I can take those secrets to my grave.” Surely people had entrusted secrets to Lady Josselin that she intended to take to her grave.

  But maybe those secrets were not about lovemaking, betrayal, and murder.

  Because I have mastered telepathy …

  Was that what she had to do? If she mastered telepathy, if she learned to control her thoughts as completely as she now controlled her spoken words, could she pretend to be a virgin for Graegor?

  Did she need to be a virgin for him? If he had done it before, maybe he would not mind terribly if she had. If she told part of the truth, would that be enough? She could say that she had believed she was in love with Nicolas, that she had slept with him so that she could marry him, but then he had fallen from the window. Would that work? Would he believe it?

  More questions, more answers, more talking. The girls had overcome their awe of Lady Josselin, and while they were still cautious and respectful, they were also relentless. Tabitha knew that it was very rare to speak to someone with all the answers, and rarer still that that person wanted to share those answers. But could they all just stop talking now and leave?

  Finally, finally, there was a pause, where no one raised a hand while Lady Josselin sipped her tea. She smiled, and each of them was treated to her direct eye contact again. Tabitha held her gaze as serenely as any of them, and better than most. “I’m very glad that you came here today, and I hope you are too. You are magi, and your people will look to you for advice and truth, the same way that you now look to me. Use your time here at the Academy wisely, and learn from your mistakes. Go out into the world and don’t be afraid.” After a last round of translations, she stood. “Thank you all.”

  “Thank you, Lady Sorceress,” Tabitha said, rising and dipping a curtsey. The other girls hastened to copy her, even those who had already stood and given magi nods. Lady Josselin seemed to lift an eyebrow at Tabitha before she herself curtseyed, but Tabitha could not be sure. As the girls shook out their skirts, allowed their arms small stretches, and put their books and thermometers and charms into their satchels, Koren began to move around the room to collect teacups and glasses, and Lady Josselin went over to the Telgard maga whom Borjhul had threatened. The elderly Khenroxan maga who had greeted them at the front door appeared and asked if she could fetch anyone’s shawl.

  “Will you come with me to the dormitory?” Attarine sent to Tabitha and Isabelle. “I would really like talk about all this.”

  “Not today,” Tabitha answered. And not ever. “There are questions that I need to ask Lady Josselin. Things I can’t ask Lord Natayl.”

  “I’d like to go with Attarine,” Isabelle sent. “Could we use the carriage?”

  “Yes, I’m sure Lady Josselin will lend me hers to get home.”

  Tabitha endured the milling around and polite leave-taking that always marked the end of an afternoon gathering. She met some of the magi girls formally for the first time, saw Isabelle and Attarine on their way, put her new things into her own little satchel, and shook her head at the elderly maga’s offer to fetch her shawl. The Telgard maga whom Borjhul had threatened was the last one to leave. She tried to maintain her composure, but tears were shining in her blue eyes as Lady Josselin walked with her out of the parlor, her arm around the girl’s shoulders.

  “I hope she will be all right.”

  Tabitha turned at Koren’s stilted words. She stood by the table in the corner, and in one hand she held the copper bucket still half-full of ice chunks, and in the other she held the copper teapot by its enamel handle as steam drifted from its spout. She was looking toward the parlor door, where Josselin and the Telgard maga had gone.

  Tabitha nodded. She had somehow forgotten the fact that this was Koren’s home, and there was no courteous way to ask her to leave. “What will Lady Josselin do?”

  “About … Borjhul?”

  “He should not be allowed to frighten magi girls like that.”

  “She will talk to Lord Oran. But …” Koren took a breath, as if steeling herself. “Borjhul is our Circle.”

  Our Circle. Our problem.

  Koren hesitated, then said, “May I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.” Just not about Graegor.

  “‘Tis …” She seemed to search for the right words, and settled on, “a touchy subject.”

  “You can ask me about anything.” But not about Graegor.

  “My king asked me to talk to you about Cuan Searla.”

  Tabitha lifted her eyebrows. “That is a touchy subject.”

  “May I, may we, talk about this? At another time?”

  “No.”

  The one-word answer was almost rude, but instead of taking offense, Koren actually seemed a little relieved, as if she had carried out an unpleasant duty. “I understand.” She nodded respectfully, then turned and left the parlor with the ice bucket and the teapot.

  Novice. The Khenroxan king had asked his new sorceress to somehow work this magic? He had far too high an opinion of her.

  Lady Josselin soon reappeared in the parlor doorway. “Ah, Tabitha.” She smiled knowingly. “I thought you might linger. Come to the kitchen and we’ll talk more.”

  Tabitha bowed her head. “Yes, my lady.” The kitchen?

  “Not so formal, dear. You are allowed to call me Josselin in private.”

  The kitchen was just across the corridor from the parlor. The hearth in one corner was large and neat, with an empty rotisserie spit over the red coals and a revolving circular rack of pots, pans, and tools. In another corner was the window and the water pump, where Koren was shaking droplets off the teapot which she had evidently just washed. There were shelves and bins around the walls, potted plants and oil lamps hung from the ceiling, and the scent of honey here was stronger.
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br />   “Have a seat,” Josselin said, gesturing to a dining table on the other side of the tall worktable. It was covered with a yellow linen tablecloth, and the benches on either side had tufted cushions. Tabitha sat down hesitantly on the edge of one bench. They were going to sit in the kitchen to talk, as if they were children or servants? Where were the servants? She had only seen one.

  “Wine, dear?” Josselin asked as she took three goblets from a shelf.

  It did not seem polite to refuse. “Yes, please. If you have white?”

  “We do.” As Josselin brought the goblets to the table, Koren vanished around a corner, and Tabitha heard her footsteps descending hidden stairs. “Let’s see, what goes with white?” Josselin murmured to herself, then opened a bin and put a block of hard cheese on the worktable to slice. “And some flatbread and figs. That will do.”

  “Do you cook?” Tabitha asked before she could stop herself. This was all so odd.

  “Now and again.” The old woman smiled as she brought out a platter. “My cook has resigned herself to the fact that I will occasionally come in here and mess up her kitchen. I try to put things back where I found them, but I usually get it wrong.” She brought the filled platter to the table as Koren returned with a dusty bottle and a corkscrew. Both of them bowed their heads in meat-thanks, and Tabitha hurried to do the same. She was not used to praying before she had any actual meat in front of her, but L’Abbanists from the west did things differently.

  “I think we had a good showing today,” Josselin declared as Koren filled the goblets. “Ten girls, plus you two. I try to schedule these gatherings for every term or two, but I went back to Khenroxa earlier in the year.” She smiled at Koren, the reason for that trip. “And there has been so much happening this summer, I really couldn’t find a good day before now. So these girls are new students as of this term, last term, or even the term before that.”

  “We just barely fit in the room,” Tabitha remarked, for something to say.

  “Indeed! I hope everyone found it worthwhile. At the very least, it let everyone practice remaining absolutely expressionless.” When Tabitha tilted her head to suggest confusion, Josselin said, “No one wants to actually react to these subjects. No one wants to be the one to giggle, or blush, or look confused. So everyone tries their best to hide what they’re thinking. That’s good practice for a lot of situations.”