“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 th
e 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.”
Arvil took Birana’s hand; she rested her head against his arm. “You would do this for us?” she said.
“Yes, but you may not thank me for it later. You may wish you had taken the chance for a quick death.”
Birana picked up her daughter; I looked away as she wept.
I went outside with them. Birana stood over the grave of her mother in silence as the men fetched their horses. She clung to the child in her arms as if suddenly afraid to give her up.
I had collected supplies from my ship, wrapping them in one of my shirts; I handed them to her. “There’s food for you here,” I said. “You won’t have to search for more.” I took the child from her as she accepted the supplies. “There are some medical supplies, too— antiseptics and other things. The small scanner’s in there as well—I won’t need it now.”
Her eyes widened. “But how will you explain…”
“I’ll find a way.” I swallowed. “I’m sure you understand how useful the scanner will be,” I said in a lower voice. “You’ll be able to chart your cycle accurately with it; you’ll have something more reliable than those berries you were given. You won’t have to fear Arvil’s attentions at least.”
“Laissa…”
“I’ve aided an exile. Giving you help to pursue your perverted practices safely is a small thing next to that.”
Tears welled in her eyes. She touched Nallei’s blond head briefly, then embraced me.
“Farewell,” I whispered. “I can give you a few days, no more. My friends will be expecting a message by then.”
Birana touched my cheek. “I wish…”
“I know. I should have… think of me sometime.” I could say no more. “Go.”
Shadow led a white horse to her; she mounted and Arvil climbed up behind her. “Farewell,” Arvil said.
The sun was setting as they rode away from the lake. I stood near the ashes of their fire, wondering where they would go.
“I have committed a crime for your mother,” I murmured to Nallei. “Your father put aside allthat he believed for her, and now I’ve done the same. I wonder what you will become.”
I waited inside the ship for five days, knowing that my crime grew more serious with every hour that passed. I listened to Birana’s story again before filing it with my other spools. Eilaan might want to destroy the recording; I could not let that happen.
I wrote out my message to Fari before I sat down in front of the ship’s small screen, wanting to be sure she grasped its importance. My mentor was not in her room; I read the message and then called Zoreen,
“Listen to me,” I said before she could speak. “I’ve finished my work, I’m coming back. Fari has a message from me, and I’ve asked her to speak to Bren. I’m hoping that Bren will take my recordings to the Council—I don’t want Eilaan to hear them first.”
“Laissa, what…”
I motioned at the small face on the screen. “I’m bringing back something else.” I held Nallei to the screen; Zoreen gasped. “This little girl was born outside months ago. I’m bringing her into the city.”
“But how…”
“Birana bore her.”
She gasped.
“Zoreen, you must tell as many women as you can, anyone you can find, about this child and the fact that I’m returning with important records. The Council is not going to destroy them and then pretend they never existed. The historians will want them preserved and will fight for that.” I paused. “This may mean some trouble for you, but I’ll bear most of the blame.”
“I can do that much for you,” Zoreen replied. “But that child…”
“My twin Arvil is her father. The city can’t turn away an innocent child, especially if it’s widely known that I’m bringing her back. The Mothers of the City will pity her, and those we serve are sentimental. I’ll return tomorrow.” I shut off the screen before she could say more.
My ship landed on the wall. The wind whipped my hair as I climbed out of the ship with Nallei in my arms. As I had expected, several women had come there to greet me. Bren stood with Fari and two other historians; Zoreen was next to two patrolwomen. Eilaan was not with them, although she must have known I would be returning.
All of the women wore masks over their mouths and noses. As Zoreen started toward me, I saw that my mother was behind her; she reached for Zoreen’s arm, holding her back.
“They’ll have to be scanned,” Mother said then. “I don’t expect there’s much wrong, but we must be careful.” Her voice was firm, as though some of her old spirit had returned to her.
I glanced at Fari. “My recordings are in the ship,” I said. “I imagine the Council will want to hear and view them right away. You’ll understand how important they are after you’ve heard them all. It may take some time—I made many. The most important ones are on top of the case—you should listen to them first.”
Fari nodded, then went to the ship. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” I said to Mother.
“Zoreen gave me your message. She said the child was… that your twin is the father. How did he…”
“It isn’t what you think. He didn’t force himself on her.”
A patrol woman nudged her. “They must be scanned.”
Mother lifted her head. “Come with me.”
Zoreen remained with the historians and Bren as Mother and I were led inside the wall. The patrolwomen guided us to a room in the area where men were kept, then left us alone with Nallei.
I sat down on one of the beds and lay the child beside me. “How long will this take?” I asked.
“You’ll have to sleep here tonight. I don’t expect we’ll find anything wrong with you, so you may be able to leave in a day or two. The girl may be here longer.” Her voice was muffled by her mask. “She not only has to be scanned, but we’ll have to map her genes as well.” She shuddered. “I can hardly bear to think of how she must have been born. The poor child.”
“Birana risked a lot to see that she was brought here,” I said. “She and Arvil both wanted me to take her.”
“Laissa, how…”
I looked up at the screen on the wall, wondering if anyone was listening to us. “I’ll tell you the s
tory another time. All you have to know is that Nallei was born of love, strange as that may seem. I think Arvil cares almost as much for her as Birana does.”
“You saw them both in that shrine?”
I nodded.
“And they still live?”
“Yes. I have much to tell you, Mother, but not here.”
“Perhaps it’s better if I don’t know.” She went to the screen to summon another physician.
Nallei was taken to another room; Mother had promised to watch out for her. No messages came for me; after a day, I went to the screen and tried to send one to Zoreen. Letters flashed on the screen; no messages would go out. I tried the door; it remained closed.
I was a prisoner. From time to time, a physician I did not know came to the room, examined me, and left without speaking. I noticed that she wore no mask and worried about why I was still being detained.
The Council was keeping me in that room, perhaps debating over what to do with me. Outside, in my ship, I had supposed that the value of the recordings I had brought back might mitigate any punishment. Now I knew I was lost. I spent days staring at the door, waiting for it to open. I would be led to the Council, would plead my case, would be isolated again and perhaps expelled.
I lost track of time. I slept when I was tired, paced the room when I was awake. Patrolwomen brought me food; I ate little. I was lying on my bed, wondering when the torment of waiting would be over, when the door opened. I looked up, expecting to see the physician or a patrolwoman.
Eilaan entered and sat down on the bed next to mine. “We’ve gone through your recordings,” she said. “I found them repulsive. I’d destroy them, but of course the historians won’t have that, and several Council members are on their side. They’re not about to listen to what I think now—I won’t be on the Council much longer.”
“That’s some consolation,” I said as I sat up. “What’s happened to Nallei?”
“She’s still inside the wall. Dorlei’s looking after her. That wretched child is safe enough.” Her eyes narrowed. “You spoke to an exiled woman. You didn’t send a message to us. Certain supplies are missing from your ship.”
The Shore of Women Page 56
