Bradley, Marion Zimmer - Novel 19

by The Ruins of Isis (v2. 1)

  "Here is the Punishment House; I, as Vaniya's heir, have authority to admit you here."

  She spoke briefly with the hefty, sun-tanned woman at the doorway, and the woman went away, letting Cendri and Miranda inside.

  In the course of her studies Cendri had visited many places of confinement on many different worlds; the Punishment House of the Residence of the Pro-Matriarch contained four identical small barred rooms, cells, weathertight and immaculately clean. The inhabitants—there were two at present—looked clean and well-fed, warmly clad against the chill and provided with blankets; nevertheless Cendri shrank in distaste from the display, on the wall where every inhabitant of the Punishment House could see them, of a variety of increasingly unpleasant instruments of restraint or punishment, including a variety of long, brutal whips. She also remembered what she had been told upon first landing on Isis; the penalty for any male who attacked a citizen was immediate death, meaning that males being punished could not even resist without incurring immediate destruction like any wild or dangerous animal. She shuddered in horror, thinking of Dal in such a place as this.

  Miranda pressed her hand. She whispered, "I know, I feel that way too. It is horrible. And yet most males cannot be controlled any other way; you cannot judge them all by the kind of men whom we know; they are exceptional, you know."

  Cendri thought of the boy who had wept in her arms at the seaside, of the gentleness of every man there, of the genuineness of the communication. Not for sex alone, but for some kind of togetherness, some way of re-uniting the sundered halves of the society—she found herself wanting to cry, because even Miranda did not understand.

  Miranda said, gesturing, "This is the messenger. He was interrogated by the lash; but Lialla told me he said nothing and at last they were convinced he knew nothing worth telling, more than was in his message. But you should ask him about it, since the message—the message Vaniya did not give him leave to deliver—was for you. Yal," she said, to the man who lay huddled on the bare floor, shivering under his blankets, "I have brought the Scholar Dame from University to you. If your message concerns her, you are now free to give it."

  The man Yal slowly, dragged himself upright. Cendri saw with horror that the back of his thick coarse shirt was flecked with blood, and that he moved as if every motion cost him excruciating pain.

  He said, "You are indeed the Scholar Dame from University? The Mother Vaniya said that you would have no interest in the message I bear—she said, what is a male to the Scholar Dame?"

  Cendri said quietly, "Vaniya was mistaken, Yal. If you bear a message from my beloved Companion, let me hear it."

  "Respect, Scholar Dame, the message is not from your Companion, but concerning him," Yal said. "I was to say that your Companion, the Master Scholar Dallard Malocq, is being held in the work-settlement of the men at the great dam, and that there he will remain until men of the Unity are sent here, to learn of the conditions under which men of Isis must live and suffer all their lives without freedom. We demand that the Unity shall require the women of Isis to grant us the rights of free citizens, and until the Unity has answered us we shall hold the worthy Scholar Male among us."

  Cendri gasped. So this was the end of Dai's work among the men of Isis—to be held as their prisoner, to force action from Vaniya!

  It might have worked, with Mahala.. .she wants Isis a part of the Unity, but on their own terms. But Vaniya! Cendri's blood ran cold. Dearly as she had come to love the Pro-Matriarch, she knew that the woman would never compromise with the men.

  Miranda said sharply, "That is not the way things are done on Isis, Yal. I can assure you, as daughter of the Pro-Matriarch, that if you return the Scholar Dame's Companion to us, and return to your duties, my mother Vaniya will be ready and more than ready to listen to any reasonable request."

  Yal said, "We have done with reasonable requests, Lady; all reason has done for us is to keep every male on Isis in chains."

  Cendri begged, "Where is my—where is the Master Scholar from the Unity being held?"

  Yal's bruised face moved in a smile. His lips were swollen and darkened with dried blood. He said, "Ah, Respected Dame, that would be telling, now, wouldn't it? And you can see they asked me, and they knew how to persuade me; if I'd known—" he shuddered, "I'd surely have told, wouldn't I? I told them before they sent me, don't tell me anything. What I don't know, they can't make me tell, see, not even if they kill me."

  Cendri shuddered; he spoke so matter-of-factly of torture and death. Was this what Dal would suffer for the fate of their messenger? This brave, and stupid, volunteer would die for his cause; but would it do him any good?

  Miranda said sharply, "Is it worth it to you to be beaten and tortured for this folly, man?"

  Yal smiled again. His smile, in his tortured face, was very terrible. He said, "But there are not enough women on Isis to beat us all to death one by one, woman." He used, not the term of respect, but the simple female noun. "I came here knowing I would be questioned as all men are questioned, by the whip, and then put in chains, as all men on Isis live chained by the will of women. But—" he held out his right hand; made the slow unloosing gesture Cendri had seen before, "we were not born in chains! And we will not die in them!"

  He turned his back on the women, deliberately wrapped himself in the coarse prison blanket, and lowered himself painfully to the bare floor of the cell. He did not speak again.

  When Cendri had escorted Miranda gently to her room, and left her there in the care of the midwife, she went to her own room, thinking in dread of Dai's fate in the hands of the men.

  If they had sought some specific concession from Vaniya, they might have fared better. Vaniya was a reasonable woman, as she had proved when she gave a previous messenger leave to organize a hunt, because of their hunger. But the men had asked the one thing which Vaniya, secure in the Tightness of her position, backed up by the will of the Builders—or Whoever and Whatever had spoken to her at We-were-guided—would never grant.

  In all the years while we have dwelt on Isis, the Builders have

  spoken to no male.......

  Did that mean, then, that the society on Isis was one specially chosen, right, the way all humanity should live?

  Cendri shivered; then, remembering how the man Yal in his cell had done the same, forced herself to be quiet. No; if she accepted the word of—of whatever had spoken at We-were-guided—that would be to acknowledge it as a God, a supreme Being. And that, despite the almost-automatic reverence she had felt while she knelt there, Cendri could not do. Vaniya believed that whatever spoke there was the voice of a God—or more probably, Vaniya being who and what she was, a Goddess. But Cendri had been raised in the firm agnosticism of the Unity, and she did not believe in Gods—or Goddesses either—except as psychological forces in the minds of those who worshipped them. Far less could she accept that such Supreme Beings, if they existed—which, away from the seductive experience of We-were-guided, she did not believe—would lower themselves to interfere in the political institutions of humanity or to set up women above men, or for that matter, men above women. If Cendri believed in God at all it was in a force of ultimate fairness, which inspired but did not lead its worshippers, and left it to them to work out the details of their societies.

  Something had spoken to her in the Ruins. That she knew, as she knew her name was Cendri Owain. But the nature of that Something she did not know, and could not guess.

  But the fact of the matter was that Vaniya believed, and it was ultimately in Vaniya's hands to put her faith into action. Cendri never doubted that she would do it. So that Dal might remain in the hands of the men of Isis until he died—or until the Unity sent to ask word of what had happened to its Master Scholar, sent to investigate the ruins of Isis.

  And that was what the men wanted. That the Unity should come to investigate, to see the conditions of the Matriarchate, should declare them unfit for a world which traded with the Unity. Should enforce freedom for the men of
Isis as a condition, not of membership in the Unity, but of trade with it. Cendri shuddered. The Unity could, and would, do it. In the name of Humanity, they would do it. Slavery was repugnant to the Unity, and in the harsh laws of the Matriarchate, where every man was legally some woman's property, they would see slavery, and nothing more.

  And Mahala had said it, and Miranda. They were a poor world. They needed, they desperately needed, trade with the Unity, a market for their pearls and other exports, they needed terms for the earthquake-predictive equipment which would free them of the quakes and tidal waves, they needed land-reclamation machinery and equipment, they needed scientific training for their scientists and scholars on University. If the Unity enforced sanctions on them, as it did on all worlds which dealt in slaves, Isis could not survive, and their experiment would die with them.

  So that the men, holding Dal, had the one instrument which could kill the power of the Matriarchate. Vaniya might trust in the love and concern of the Builders; but they could not save her, or Isis, now.

  By the time Cendri had readied herself to dine at Vaniya's table, she was exhausted with her attempts to find some way out of this dilemma. Did Vaniya even understand the plight she would be in, if the Unity should come to investigate Dai's disappearance? If she did not, then she, Cendri, must enlighten her, and she shrank from the thought. Vaniya had not even told her of the existence of the messenger Yal, or of his demand; she had left Cendri to suffer in uncertainty. Braced with the anger this thought raised in her, she went down to dinner.

  Yet her deep affection for Vaniya bade her give Vaniya a chance to tell the truth. After all, she reminded herself, she had absented herself from Vaniya's dinner-table the night before, Vaniya might well have hesitated to trouble Cendri in her supposed illness with such news.

  But the meal was much as usual. Vaniya welcomed Cendri back to them with tender concern, inquired about her health, and did not speak a word of the absent Dal. And throughout the meal, Cendri's anger grew, until by the time the dishes were cleared away, she could restrain it no longer.

  She said, "Vaniya, I would like to speak with you alone, if I may," and waited until the Pro-Matriarch had dismissed her household. Even then, seeing the lines of fatigue and worry in the older woman's face, Cendri almost relented.

  But my duty now is to Dal. I, too, am a citizen and a Scholar of University.

  She said quietly, "Vaniya, I have heard that you had news of Dal, and that you did not tell me. I had thought you regarded me as a guest and a friend. In our world this would not be thought the kindly action of a friend."

  "Friend? More than that, my child," said Vaniya, gently taking her hand. Cendri drew it away and her eyes blazed.

  "Miranda, perhaps, is my friend, Vaniya, but not you; or why was I not told that a messenger had been sent, telling me that Dal was a prisoner of the men's rebellion?"

  "Oh, dear!" Vaniya said, and her face was troubled. "My dear child, I did not want you troubled with such trifles. If these foolish men think they can force our will that way, that has nothing to do with you. I am sure you are concerned for your Companion, but after all, it is only a male, and you can all too easily find another. You shall have the choice of my own Men's House, I will not withhold even Rhu from you if you value him so highly."

  Cendri heard her in amazement and dismay. Had she, then, never even begun to understand Vaniya, or her world? No, for she now knew she should have expected this. The fault had been in Cendri, when she first agreed to the terms made by the women of Isis. Dai's fault, too; he was a Scholar and such an imposture was not intellectually honest, either. They should have demanded— University should have demanded—to send their chosen Scholar on his own terms, pledging his obedience to the laws of Isis, and under diplomatic immunity if necessary; but the imposture, she now knew, had been a great mistake, and now she, and Dal, must pay for it. But she would not continue the lie.

  She said quietly, "Vaniya, that will not do, and I think you know it. For all that we have tried never to offend against your customs, Dal is not a Companion as you of Isis use the term. He is my life-partner, a citizen of the Unity, a Master Scholar of University, and the Unity will not allow him to be disregarded and given up to imprisonment. I think you know what the Unity can do if they choose to exercise sanctions against Isis; it has been done before."

  Vaniya's face was pale. She said, "I cannot believe they would do this for an assistant, even the valued assistant of a Scholar Dame."

  Cendri felt the blood drain from her own cheeks, but now she was committed to the truth. "Dal is not my assistant, Vaniya. It is he who is—who has always been—the Extra-Scholar Malocq," she used the neutral word in the language of Isis. "It is he, not I, who was the trained assistant of the Scholar Dame di Velo."

  Vaniya's fists clenched. Her mouth was tight, but her eyes glowed in anger; she looked more than ever like a great golden lioness, but now the lioness was free and stalking in fury. She paced the floor, rounding on Cendri to demand, "And who are you, then? Are you not the Scholar Dame Malocq?"

  "I am a Scholar," Cendri said, "I am the life-partner of the Extra-Scholar Malocq, and as the custom is on his home world of Pioneer, I had taken his name for my own. And so it was possible—" her voice failed her there.

  Vaniya demanded, in a fury, "Why did you come, then? Only to be a—a sexual plaything, a she-Companion, for your Extra-Scholar, then?" Cendri felt she would wither into a small scorched coal under the blazing contempt in Vaniya's voice. She gathered her self-respect, and said firmly, "No, Vaniya. I came for the sake of my own work; I too am a Scholar, and some day to be Extra-Scholar as well, the equal of Dal!" She flung the phrase at Vaniya defiantly.

  Vaniya just stood and stared at her. "That I should live to hear a woman and a Scholar say such words—that some day she might rise to be the equal of a male! Have you learned no shame among us, Cendri?"

  Cendri set her chin so that she would not cry. She said, "Vaniya, in all save Scholar's credentials we are equals; and I have not completed mine."

  "Credentials—" Vaniya said. "Let us have this clear, then. Are you an assistant archaeologist, and your—your Companion—the true Extra-Scholar in that field?"

  With all her heart Cendri wished she could leave it at that. Ringing in her mind were the words recorded for a former High Matriarch of Isis—she wondered which of the statues she had seen in the Hall of Matriarchs had said these words;

  We will not be studied by your scientists as if we were one of those glass-sided insect colonies we give our little daughters for playthings. Yet she had committed herself now to complete honesty with Vaniya.

  Standing before Vaniya, looking up into the woman's face as if she were a Student before her Mentor in the first class on University, she said steadily, "No, Vaniya. I am a cross-cultural sociologist and an anthropologist; I came here because so little is known about the Matriarchate in the worlds of the Unity, and I wanted them to know the truth about you, not garbled lies. I can tell the worlds of the Unity what you really are," she added, hopefully, but Vaniya's face was carved in stone.

  "An anthropologist. To study us," she repeated slowly, her mouth twisting a little as if the words dirtied them. She physically drew away from Cendri.

  "But we loved you," she said, slowly, in amazement. "We trusted you. We loved you. And you betrayed us!"

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The silence lengthened. Cendri felt her eyes fill with tears, felt them spill over and run cold down her cheeks, but she said nothing. There were a dozen things she wanted to cry out.

  And I loved you, Vaniya. 1 trusted you, enough to risk Dai's life at your hands.

  You ask if I have learned no shame among you. I have learned to be ashamed that women can so abuse their power. Tyranny is tyranny, be it the tyranny of the man over the woman, or of the woman over the man.

  But she said none of these or the other thoughts surging in her mind. She stood with her head held firmly erect before Vaniya—she had done noth
ing wrong, she was a Scholar of University, not a spanked child—but she could not keep the tears from scalding her cheeks.

  It wasn't a lie. It wasn't betrayal. I loved you, all of you, 1 lived

  with you. I visited the sea with you____

  She had finally opened her mouth to speak when there was an outcry in the hallway. Vaniya thrust Cendri aside, saying roughly, "What is this commotion in my house?"

  There were the sounds of women crying out in surprise and dismay; the doorway was flung open and the Pro-Matriarch Mahala, accompanied by the women of her household, stormed into the hall.

  Vaniya quickly mastered herself and said, "Tell me, my sister, how is it that you honor my house? Is this an official visit from Pro-Matriarch to Pro-Matriarch, or a friendly evening call?"

  "It is official," Mahala said harshly, "I now demand, my sister and colleague, that you immediately relinquish to me such secular authority as I need to deal with rebellion—or do you, wallowing in your religious observances, even know that we have a rebellion on our hands?"

  Cendri, standing forgotten, watched in dismay. Vaniya said, summoning her uttermost dignity, "I have been occupied with the aftermath of the festival, Mahala, and I am awaiting the birth of my daughter's daughter. The peace of the city of Ariadne has been left in your hands, as during all these months of our late Mother's illness. Have you then been unable to maintain it, my sister?"

  "It is no time for birth-festivals and merrymaking," said Mahala angrily. "Do you not know that the men have refused to return to the delta and the dam, refused to return to the Inland Land Reclamation Project, refused to return to their duties on farms and factories and along the shore, refused even to go quietly to the Men's Houses when offered a holiday to recover from the fatigues of the festival?"