Risa had learned not to ask about those encounters and was happier not knowing the specifics. They would mean nothing to any of the women, who might have shared themselves with other men as easily. They meant little to Sef; the rites and the meetings were events he tolerated so that Ishtar would not see him as an enemy and would leave his household alone.
The rites revolted Risa; she felt a bit ill whenever she thought of the number of times her daughter must have participated in them. People could so easily use their faith to justify deeds that would have repelled them otherwise; it had happened often enough in the past. Professions of faith could rationalize cruelty, persecution, even murder—or, in this case, the rutting of Ishtar's believers.
She could have understood it if Chimene had been more like a Plainswoman, someone who needed more than one man. But even Bettina had spoken scathingly of the rite; there was a difference between taking a new lover for a while and throwing oneself indiscriminantly into the arms of various men with other people present. One was an expression of love, although an admittedly temporary one; the other was hardly more than a perversion.
Chimene, of course, did not see things that way. As far as Risa knew, her daughter did not share her bed with anyone except Boaz Huerta or, less frequently, one of the other men in her household. Perhaps Chimene thought of herself as being virtuous by saving more of herself for the rite.
“I still don't like it when you go to meetings there,” she said. It was hard enough for her to pay an occasional visit to Chimene's home, and she usually tried to pick a time when most of her daughter's housemates were elsewhere.
Sef cupped her face in his large hands. “Wouldn't it be better to have her see that we're concerned for her? She might need us sometime, you know. There's always a chance she might come to her senses. I want her to see that she can turn to us instead of just leaving her to those friends of hers.”
“She might have had a bondmate by now and children.” Risa sighed. “This house seems so empty sometimes. I wish Dyami were home.”
Sef's arms dropped; he frowned for a moment. “He's safer in Turing for now.”
“He should be here. He's nineteen—he ought to be thinking about a bondmate himself.”
“Don't concern yourself with that, Risa. You waited before making a pledge yourself. He'll visit before too long, and you shouldn't pester him about pledges—that must be his decision.” His troubled expression passed as he smiled. “I have to go.”
* * * *
By the time Risa had bathed, dressed, and gone out to the common room, Sef was gone. She began to gather the breakfast bowls and cups, piling them onto a tray. The house was quiet; Paul had said something yesterday about going over to the school to examine some of the children. Grazie and Nikolai would be at the community greenhouses today. She heard the sound of movement in the kitchen; Noella, she recalled, was on a darktime shift at the External Operations Center and would be home today.
Theron and Noella had become part of this household a few years ago. Noella had, after all, lived here for a while before she and Theron built their own house; she had decided to leave that house to her children and their bondmates. Risa had welcomed the couple, but even now the house often felt empty.
Bettina's face was now next to Chen's on the memorial pillars. She had weakened rapidly after his death, as though she no longer had the will to live; her inability to do anything for Chen had haunted the physician. Patrick was living in Kepler with his bondmate, whom he had met on the southern Bat, while Irina had moved in with her bondmate's family in ibn-Qurrah.
Noella, who was a little unconventional, could say what she liked about the wisdom of parents keeping some distance from their adult children, but her children and grandchildren were still here in the west dome; she had only to walk down the path to see them. Risa had once envisioned a house with more rooms and grandchildren to fill them, but only one generation lived in this house now.
She lifted the tray. Dyami would be visiting in a couple of months, and maybe one of his former schoolmates would hold more of an attraction for him now. She knew of at least three young women who asked her for news of her son; she would invite them over while Dyami was here. Sef might say that she shouldn't pester the young man, but she had seen him look a little worried when he spoke about Dyami; he was probably as concerned as she was.
They might have had another child together, but she had grieved too much over Eleta's death to consider it. Later, she had consoled herself by believing that there would be grandchildren. Perhaps she had made a mistake, and it was not too late to change her mind. She might petition the physicians to allow her the use of an ectogenetic chamber if she proved unable to carry the child herself, although at fifty-six, with over a decade of rejuvenation treatments behind her, there was still a chance she could.
Maybe she was simply too tired to take on a parent's responsibilities again. Perhaps she did not want another child of hers to grow up in Ishtar's shadows.
She went to the kitchen, set the tray down, and began to stack the dishes in the cleaner. Three large ceramic pots were atop the convection oven; she sniffed at the aroma of cooked fruit. Noella was stirring one pot.
“You didn't have to do this now,” Risa said. “You could have slept late.”
“I can get some rest later.” Noella handed her a spoon. “You'll have enough to do with preparing the dried beans.”
Risa leaned against the oven. “Things don't change all that much, do they? My grandmother's household on the Plains might have spent a day like this.”
“Not very often, I expect. They probably had some sealed provisions and a dispenser.”
Risa stirred a pot of berries. “Sometimes I think I made a mistake,” she murmured.
The blond woman raised her brows. “You say that a little too often, Risa. Maybe you'd better have Paul scan you and see if your rejuv treatments are working. What mistake are you wondering about now?”
“Not getting more training—telling myself I knew most of what I had to know. I try to read when I can, but it isn't the same. I know a lot of things but not how to think about them.” She paused. “Too many of us are like that. We do our work and tell ourselves we're building a new world, but we don't really think about what that requires. We think the work is enough, that we don't have to think of things differently. It's what makes something like Ishtar possible, with its easy answers and assurance that everything will be all right.”
“You remember what happened when Theron tried to enlarge the curriculum a bit,” Noella said. “He just ended up with parents telling him he was trying to turn their kids into dreamy scholars.”
“Well, he was right to try,” Risa responded, “even if I had my doubts at the time. A lot of the specialists get so caught up in their specialties that they've almost lost sight of any larger purpose in their work. Some of them probably wouldn't care about the settlements as long as the Islands remained and they could go on with what they do. And we learn less than we should about what they know, or what the Habbers might have added to their knowledge.”
“People have a chance here. It's their own fault if they don't take it. Most people here mastered more than their parents did, and their own children—”
“—might decide it's easier to let others make their decisions for them.” Risa put down her spoon. “Malik told me once that these settlements were an experiment. Terraforming Venus could have continued with only Islanders, but Earth wanted people to believe that even ordinary sorts had a stake in this Project. I suppose the Mukhtars thought it might dampen some discontent—even if somebody's own life seems pointless, there's a little consolation in thinking that some other simple souls elsewhere are capable of a greater enterprise. Now the results of the experiment are becoming clearer. We're showing that we can fall into the same traps Earth's people did. Maybe the Mukhtars expected that.”
“I know,” Noella said. “Maybe it was foolish to hope for more.”
“I can't accept t
hat. My parents didn't come here and give up their lives so that people trying to rid themselves of old bonds would decide to hobble themselves with new ones.” She poked at the stewed fruit with her spoon. “Sigurd was trying for more. I didn't quite see that either until recently. It's why he wants the Habbers here. We could gain a lot from contact with them without becoming like them—that's what he thinks.”
“I doubt he's thinking much about that now,” Noella said. “He'll have all he can do just to maintain his own position.”
That was true enough. Grazie had heard rumors that Ishtar's inner circles were growing more discontented with Sigurd. Risa did not discuss her meetings with Yakov and other troubled settlers with Grazie and Paul. Grazie gossiped enough to acquire some interesting information, but she was also too likely to say things she shouldn't to others. She and Paul were like too many people, content to let things be as long as they and those closest to them were secure.
This was what her life had come to—keeping a few secrets from two of her housemates and fearing her own daughter. At least Sef had never failed her, nor had her son, although she had been disappointed when Dyami chose to leave for Turing. She would forgive that when he came home; whatever she did was for Dyami and the children he would have someday. The situation would change again and perhaps present her with some way to strike out at Ishtar. She would not have her descendants live in the irrational darkness cast by the cult.
* * * *
“We welcome all who are true Cytherians,” Chimene said, “all who see that the shadows of doubt and despair must be swept away before we can become what we must be. We welcome those who sense the Spirit of this world, the one we must appease and embrace with both our strength and our love.”
The room grew dark; then the screen behind her illuminated the gathering. Several people were gazing at the familiar sequence of images, still capable of being awed by those visions of Venus; others bowed their heads.
Her talk had gone well tonight; she had held their attention, as she usually did. Boaz might occasionally resort to more screen images to enliven his speeches, but she had never felt the need for many of them during her own talks. Words were enough; she had learned how to cast her spell, to caress her sisters and brothers with her phrases.
This talk had been a little different. She had hinted that Earthfolk, however benighted they were now, were not incapable of apprehending the truth and of living in peace with their own planetary Spirit. A few historical examples from the works she and Malik had once read together had proven useful, even though her father would not have cared for the use she made of them. She had worried before giving her talk that this group might be troubled by gentler words about Earth. Her worries had been groundless. These people loved their Guide and would accept whatever she said.
The ceiling light panels brightened. Her talk, as usual, had been captured by two tiny recorders on either side of the room. Eva and Lang would look at the recording later; if it worked as well on the screen as it had here, they would put it into the system so that others could view it.
She surveyed the crowd. She did not notice any new faces in the group of more than one hundred, and doubted that anyone would be coming forward to join, but she waited, just in case. She heard sighs as people began to stir. Sef was to her right, sitting against the wall. He had arrived late, just as the meeting was about to begin, but some people had made room for him there. He looked around restlessly, then caught her eye; he smiled. He often looked at her that way, as if she weren't the Guide but only the child who had lived for a time in his house.
One knot of people moved toward the door; others were beginning to stand. “You were so inspiring,” a woman said to Chimene. Several people were lingering nearby, clearly hoping that the Guide or someone in her circle might invite one of them to join them in the rite. She often welcomed unfamiliar participants; leading a different man to shed a few more of his barriers always made her feel closer to the Spirit. She could recapture that all-encompassing moment of joy that eluded her at other times.
“I feel such love,” a dreamy-eyed young man said. Chimene murmured a few words absently, then retreated to a corner near the screen. A few couples, arms around each other's waists, were moving toward the door. Chimene gazed in Sef's direction. He had not come to a meeting here for a while; surely he would stay for a few moments and share any recent news of his household. But he was already trying to push past those near him, as though anxious to leave.
She suddenly knew what she had to do.
Chimene beckoned to Eva. “Lang isn't with us tonight,” she murmured; the gray-haired man was attending another meeting. “Sef will take his place. Ask him if he'll join us in the rite.”
The pale-haired woman frowned. “Are you sure of that?”
“Yes. I feel it.”
“Everything I've heard tells me he still has some inhibitions,” Eva said. “I don't know if he's ready for this.”
“I have faith that he is.”
“Don't question our Guide,” Boaz said behind her; Chimene turned to face him. “She sees deeply into the hearts of others. Ask the man to join us.”
Eva walked toward Sef, Matthew came to Boaz's side, then took Chimene's arm. “He's still a barrier for you, isn't he?” the blond man said softly. “You haven't yet been able to see him as your brother in Ishtar but as your old love, one you couldn't have. That will pass when he joins us.”
Sef tensed as Eva spoke to him. Chimene was afraid that he might refuse. But he couldn't refuse; a few of the people next to him must have heard Eva's invitation. No one could turn away someone so close to the Guide; there was no possible excuse he could offer. None of those closest to her would ask anyone who was not ready; for Sef to reject this sign of their love would be the same as turning away from the Spirit. Others would wonder at his refusal; he would only shame himself by admitting he could not make his offering to them. That was why she was always so careful about those who were asked; she did not want to risk driving hesitant souls further from the truth by shaming them.
But he would not refuse. She knew what to say to him.
Chimene freed herself from Matthew and made her way to Sef. She gestured at Eva; the other woman left them.
“Your friend honors me.” Sef's voice was strained. “But I don't know—”
“Eva longs to share her love for you,” Chimene said quickly. This wasn't entirely a lie; she had heard Eva and Josefa whispering admiringly about Sef after other meetings. “I'm speaking to you as our Guide now. You wouldn't hurt a sister I love so much by retreating behind a barrier.”
Sef's face reddened; he seemed embarrassed to be talking of this in the presence of others. His tall body slumped; his expression showed the uncertainty of a boy. “It's only that I feel unworthy.”
“Eva wouldn't have spoken to you if you were,” another man said. “She wouldn't make such a mistake. Surely you don't doubt her wisdom—or the Guide's.”
“I know this is hard for you,” Chimene said, “as it once was for me. The Spirit doesn't withdraw from those who might fail, only from those who don't make the attempt.”
Sef's throat moved as he swallowed. She felt a little pity for him, and then it passed. He would learn that she was right and be grateful.
He nodded, silently assenting. The crowd was thinning; he stared at the floor. Galina and Yusef removed the tiny recorders from the walls; Matthew and Boaz walked toward the door, saying their farewells to a few of the worshippers.
“If I were alone with her,” Sef said, “I could manage it then. You see, I haven't—”
“You musn't fear. There will be only a few of us. Do you think I would have allowed Eva to approach you if I had any doubt? You mean too much to me for that. You know that, don't you? Out of everyone in my mother's household, you were always the kindest to me.”
He lowered his head; his eyes met hers. Those words had moved him—not the words of the Guide but of the girl he had treated as a daughter. For an insta
nt, his gaze was more intense; he was not looking at her as a child now. The light in his eyes faded, but he had already told her what she longed to know.
He wanted her. Perhaps he had all along but had refused to acknowledge it to himself; maybe he had only just realized that he did. A barrier had fallen for a few seconds; now he was turning away, as if already denying what he had felt.
The Spirit had led him here tonight; she hadn't been wrong about that. Kichi had said she would lead Sef to Ishtar. Her heart pounded; her soul warmed with love.
* * * *
Chimene stood with her three shrouded companions. The other men had given Sef a robe; he stood next to Yusef, his head bowed.
She went to him quickly, knowing that the Spirit guided her now. Her hand touched his lightly; she led him to a mat near the screen, away from the others. Usually she joined with other brothers during the rite's aftermath, when all barriers were gone, but she wanted this night to be theirs alone. This way of celebrating the rite was new to Sef; later, when he had accepted her love, he would be able to reach out to her sisters more easily.
They lay on the mat; his robe fell open. His hands groped awkwardly at her body through her shroud; he seemed uncertain of what to do. Was he imagining Eva? Was he hoping he would find Chimene? His hands slipped under the shroud, searching her.
Men had to appease the Spirit, but some needed more guidance. She had been with others who had shared themselves with only one woman in solitude or who were older and needed to be roused. She lowered her head and spread her shroud over him, careful to keep herself hidden, and felt him stiffen as she gripped him with her hand.
Her lips found him; she circled his shaft with her tongue and felt him move under her. He moved inside her mouth; she caressed his testes gently with one hand as her tongue slid over him.
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