by Shannah Jay
'Do the women not have any choice of whom they partner?'
'No. Nor the men. That's for the Council to say. '
'What if the women refuse?'
'They can't refuse, if the community has chosen someone for them.' He held up a hand. 'Don't take me amiss, dear - er - Elder Sister! This is not a dictatorship. There must always be a majority decision. These rules have been carefully developed, very carefully indeed.'
But the majority are men, she thought grimly. 'What if a woman does refuse?' she repeated.
'Well . . . ' he glanced at her sideways, his eyes calculating. 'We try to make things easy for everyone. The SS'Habi do not allow strife in Dsheresh, so . . . if anyone is upset, we give them potion to soothe them. The deleff provide it. It's completely harmless, but it makes people more amenable to reason. Ah, you ladies are such unpredictable creatures, deliciously unpredictable! It's the duty and pleasure of us men to look after you.
Potion is the kindest way for the few, the very few, who cause the community trouble. We don't wish any of our ladies to be unhappy.' He looked at Herra speculatively and moistened his lips. 'How old are you, my dear?'
She ignored that impertinence. 'What sort of a potion is it?'
'How should I know? We don't manufacture it; the SS'Habi do. It makes people - relaxed. Encourages them to enjoy themselves. And what is there in life but enjoyment, after all? When they've taken potion for a few days, people become happy again. Indeed, we all take potion on festival nights. It enhances the desire for the sexual act.'
She couldn’t hide her disgust at that.
'No, no, my dear, I can see by your face that you have quite the wrong idea of us. This is a very happy community. Violence is unknown, as are hunger and poverty. The only problem is that we're short of ladies, but those we have are treated with great honour and tenderness. I promise you that you and your companions will have nothing to complain of. Indeed, I'm quite sure that you'll find life here more pleasant than you could ever have dreamed of. There's no Discord or Serpent Cult here. You yourself, although possibly past childbearing, will find you are welcomed here, and that your body is not too old to give you enjoyment - and to make your partner happy at the same time.'
'I shall not, nor will my companions, follow your customs. We tread our own path.' Her voice was flat and emphatic.
He smiled. 'Dear lady, you will find you have no choice. No - don't say anything more! You're weak and tired now. You'll only say something you'll regret later. When you've had time to think it over, you'll see that we've found a graceful solution to all our problems. With us, the act of love has become an art form.' His eyes and lips were moist at the thought. 'As are all the necessary activities of living. Life here is remarkably easy and pleasant. I'm one of the few in this generation who came from the Twelve Claims. I can remember how harsh life was there, and I shudder at the memory, absolutely shudder!'
'I didn’t find it so unbearable - not until recently, at any rate.'
' You would have lived in luxury. Others did not. You'll find no slums here like the Shambles that fester on the outskirts of cities in the Twelve Claims.'
He sickened her, but it would be stupid to show that while she was still so weak. She sighed, as if too weary to argue any more. 'I need to sleep now, Sarm. I'm very tired. Please leave me.'
'Certainly. Certainly. Shall I send Narla to sit with you?'
'No. I need no one.' Herra watched him leave, her face losing its hesitant elderly look and hardening into grim determination once the door had closed behind him. The thought of the way of life he’d just described to her was highly distasteful, and it was obvious that the majority decisions were a concealed form of dictatorship. No wonder Narla was so afraid of offending Sarm! Until Herra knew more and saw her own path more clearly, she decided that she, too, must be wary of provoking the Captal. She was too weak to defend herself against a whole town.
But let them beware of her once she’d recovered!
* * *
Robler scowled at the com-screen. 'Why is the image so fuzzy still? Surely you've sorted the problem out by now?'
'We don't know. It doesn't respond to any of our fine-tuning controls.'
'A malfunctioning tracer, probably.' He stood and watched the computer-enhanced image for a moment or two. 'What's that silly old woman doing now? Every time I see her she's in a different place. You're wasting your time studying her, Soo. She's just a fugitive now and has no further importance for the Confederation.'
Soo shrugged. 'My time, my decision. Besides, I thought you wanted me to try to find out about the instantaneous transmission that the deleff seem to have. They've moved Herra again, only a short distance, but instantaneously.'
'I do want you to find out about that. But she won't know anything about it.'
'She has the only tracer we can tune into. The others just show darkness. It never hurts to gather as much information as possible.'
Robler had Soo trapped in a corner and the only way she could move away would be to push past him. She waited for a moment, hoping he’d get tired of annoying her.
'You're a very beautiful woman,' he said abruptly.
'That's none of your business, Robler.'
He reached out to stroke her arm and she jerked back.
'Afraid Mak will come in and catch us?' he mocked.
'I'm afraid of nothing that Mak is likely to do. Let me pass, please, Robler.'
He made an exasperated sound between his teeth, but he stepped back. 'Soo, about this liaison of yours . . .
'
'It's not a liaison. Mak and I are married. Permanently.'
'If it's permanence you need, I'd be prepared to offer the same conditions - and I'm a very rich man. Soo, why don't we . . . '
This time she did push past him.
He hissed after her, 'I shall have what I want from you - one way or another. You'd better get used to that idea!'
Her shudder, as she sped away, brought a vicious expression to his face that didn’t fade for quite some time.
CHAPTER 4 DISGREEMENTS
Herra woke in the evening to find Narla sitting by her side. Narla put a finger to her lips and gestured to the back wall of the hut. 'I hope you're well rested, Herra, and that you feel happier now that Sarm’s explained our ways to you?'
'I feel much better, thank you.'
'If you feel well enough, perhaps you'd like to join us for the evening meal. It isn't a festival night, but we'd like to make you feel welcome in our community.' Narla nodded vigorously to encourage her to accept.
'I shall be happy to join you.'
'And in the meantime, there's a pleasant walk by the stream. I don't have time to come with you, but one of the Council Corps will be happy to escort you.'
'Council Corps?'
'The young men who protect the village.'
'I thought Sarm said there was no violence here? Why do I need protection?'
Narla shook her head and mimed silence. 'There isn't any violence, but it's sometimes useful to have officials to - to organise things.'
'Very well, then. I'll go for a walk.' And once we're out of sight of the village, she thought to herself, I'll find out a few things for myself from this young man.
What she discovered only added to her disgust and her determination not to conform to the ways of Dsheresh Kashal.
* * *
That evening when Herra followed Narla out into the street, all the moons were moving towards one another, like the three friendly sky-riders in the children's tales. She wondered where the satellite was now, and whether Those of the Confederation were monitoring her. Did the Confex tracers still function in Dsheresh?
She patted hers idly.
The members of the Council, all elderly men, were ceremonially presented to her one by one. Like Sarm, they were suntanned and healthy, but she didn’t think they did much manual work, or even took much exercise. Their bodies were too plump and their hands too soft.
'And how old
are you, my dear?' asked her neighbour, almost as soon as they were seated at the table. 'I'm nearly seventy, but in excellent health. Not a thing wrong with me, except for a little stiffness in the mornings.'
Herra stared coldly at him. How dared he ask that question and stare at her like that?
'Well? Come on! No need to be shy. How old are you? I'm on the Council, and you'll have to tell us tomorrow, so you may as well be frank now.'
'My age is my own concern.'
'Well, not quite, my dear. It's also the concern of the Council, but no need to worry about that tonight. I know, I'll guess your age and you can tell me when I'm close. Hmmm. Let me see.' Like Sarm, he didn’t hesitate to eye her body openly. 'I think - sixty - and a well-preserved sixty at that. You're past the age of childbearing, but one can't have everything.'
'I'm well past sixty,' she said, her voice cold as ice. 'Past two hundred, in fact.'
Sarm, on her other side, laughed loudly. 'That'll teach you to be inquisitive, Donnal!' He turned to Herra.
'He's right, though. You'll have to tell the Council tomorrow, so it's false modesty to keep your age a secret tonight.'
Herra's eyes were sparkling with indignation. 'I'm two hundred and forty-three years old,' she said firmly.
' Believe what I say, for it’s the truth.'
Everyone fell silent.
'How is that possible?' asked Sarm. 'Do you have special drugs, or is it the Sisters' magic?'
'The ways of the Sisterhood prolong life. Few of us die before one hundred and fifty. There's no magic in that. We don't believe in magic, but in developing skills and breeding carefully from our healthy lines. I am, however, exceptional, even in the Sisterhood. My Brother the God has blessed me with more years than anyone has ever known before.' She didn’t tell him that she knew herself to be in her last phase of life, or that her Gifts had been enhanced by their Brother to serve her in this Quest.
No one spoke. It was hard for them to take in what she’d told them, yet harder still, under a Compulsion, to believe that she was lying.
Donnal recovered from his shock first. 'Then you’re doubly welcome, Herra. You shall share your secrets with us tomorrow at the Council meeting. Two hundred and forty-three. Goodness me!' He was studying Herra now as if she were some strange wild animal.
Sarm changed the subject, but Herra noticed that he too kept casting covert glances at her.
What Narla had described as a simple evening meal seemed an over-lavish feast to Herra. She was amazed at how many courses were offered and shook her head to most of them.
'Is there something about this food that you don't like?' asked the man across the table from her. She had noticed that the women took little part in the conversation.
'No, of course not. But if I overate, my body would grow fat. At my age, it's better to stay lean.' Not wishing to give offence, she added diplomatically, 'You've obviously made an art of cooking and eating. I've never tasted food quite so delicious.'
Sarm began to explain just how some of the dishes had been prepared, and Herra feigned an interest in what he was saying.
After a while, she pleaded weariness. She’d had enough of watching people grossly overeating, and enough of sly glances and impertinent questions. 'Would you please excuse me now? I'm not fully recovered yet.'
'Of course! Of course!' Sarm stood up and offered Herra his arm, but looked with obvious longing at a new dish which had just been set on the table. He caught the eye of Narla, who was sitting at another table, listening to a dark-haired man with close-set eyes and a pasty face.
Herra put a gentle Compulsion on Sarm and he called, 'Narla, my dear! Would you mind escorting our guest back to her hut? It won't take you long.'
Narla was a poor actress. She affected reluctance so badly that a child wouldn’t have been deceived, but most of the town's inhabitants had drunk liberally of the alcoholic drinks being served and seemed not to notice the eagerness with which Narla stood up. There had been a special serving of potion to welcome the newcomer, but Herra had refused it. No one else did, but she noticed that a few women managed to tip theirs surreptitiously on to the ground.
'Forgive me, Farlan,' Narla said to her partner. 'I’ll return as soon as possible.'
The man held her arm for a moment. 'See that you do! I've missed your company too often lately, my own dear lady.' His words were affectionate, but his tone was sharp and his eyes were heavy with lust.
Once they had left the lighted eating area, Herra asked, 'Is it safe to talk now?'
'As safe as it will ever be.'
'What's the matter with everyone? There's an undercurrent of dissatisfaction here that one cannot miss.'
Narla shrugged. 'Some of us - some of the women, that is - are tired of being passed from man to man every year. And if we protest they give us potion, which - well, it makes us very pliant to their wishes - and usually pregnant. I have no desire to have another child.' She sighed. 'I've had six already. They're well-behaved little things, but . . . ' She shrugged.
'In how many years?' The Healer in Herra could never quite be suppressed.
'In eight years.'
'Too many, and much too quickly.'
'I agree.'
'Then why must you have more?'
'The Council has forbidden us to practise any form of prevention.'
'The Council?'
'Yes. That's the fair way, isn't it? The wishes of the majority - only the majority here is always made up of men, so the women get little choice. And to be frank, many of the women enjoy the life here, especially those who come from the Twelve Claims. Our life is very easy. And - and the men don't mean to be unkind to us, not really. They shower us with luxuries.'
'But you don't enjoy the life you're forced to lead?'
'No, though what have I to compare it with? I was born here and I've seen nothing else. But the deleff don't allow anyone to return to the Twelve Claims, and - well, I would be an outsider there if I did go back, wouldn't I? So I'm trapped.'
'Are you sure people never return to the Twelve Claims?'
'Never.' Narla sighed. 'I could join the desert outcasts, I suppose, but that sort of life sounds no better to me. It must be very dangerous in the wild country beyond Dsheresh.'
'The desert outcasts?'
'Yes. Some people do leave here voluntarily. And anyone who causes too much trouble is banished across the desert. They're given food and water for ten days - the SS'Habi say that's enough for them to reach the other outcasts.'
'How do they leave?'
'The deleff just send them away through one of their portals, I suppose. No one’s ever returned, so we're not sure what happened to them. It seems too risky to leave.' She tried to smile. 'You may think I'm being a coward.'
'I think you're very sensible. Alone you'd stand little chance of survival.' As they stopped outside her hut, Herra asked quietly, 'Narla, how can I get a message to the SS'Habi? I must speak to them. I'm much stronger now. I can't just stay here and do nothing, hoping the deleff will decide to set my friends free one day!'
'You have to contact them through Sarm. And only in an emergency. Usually they contact us.'
'I feel a desperate need to see my friends.'
'Well, if Sarm doesn't agree with your need, he won't contact the SS'Habi, whatever you say or feel. He'll just call a Council meeting and they'll overrule you. And if you protest or cause trouble, they'll give you some potion, forcibly if need be. Best not to risk that. If you're as old as you say, who knows what it would do to you? It always makes me feel nauseous afterwards.'
'What exactly does this potion do?'
'It makes you want to - to be pleasured by a man. But they always conveniently forget the after-effects when they tell us it's for our own good.'
Herra shook her head, feeling disgusted. Brother, you lead me along strange paths, she thought. She turned to go inside. 'I'll wait until morning to speak to the SS'Habi. I'm very weary, still affected by those conversations with the
High Council, but I'm getting stronger every day.'
Narla patted her arm. 'You have to go before our Town Council in the morning, so you'd better get a good rest. If you still feel you must, you can ask Sarm then about contacting the SS'Habi. But he'll say no. He always does.' She sighed. 'I've enjoyed talking to you, Herra, but I'd better go back now. Farlan is never too drunk to notice how long I've been gone. He's the worst partner I've ever had. No one enjoys spending a year with him.'
She turned at the gate. 'Herra - please don't cause trouble for yourself tomorrow. Believe me, it isn't worth it.'
'We'll see.'
* * *
The next morning Herra felt almost her normal self, as if the last traces of her experience with the High Council had suddenly worn off. She wished she could participate in a morning Gathering. How she missed that daily communion with her Kindred! She shook off the feeling of slight depression and settled into a deep meditation. And this time she had recovered enough from her encounters with the deleff to achieve a state of complete relaxation that made her body feel good and tingling with life again.
After a while, she stood up and stretched before starting a set of exercises. Part way through the gentle series she had decided would be suitable, she was interrupted by Sarm, who walked into the hut without knocking.
Annoyed, she continued her movements. 'Stand back, please. I need to finish my exercises. And next time, kindly knock and ask permission to enter my room!'
'Since I'm here on Council business, I have no need to ask anyone's permission. Stop messing around and pay attention to what I say!' His tone was peremptory, completely different from the last time she had seen him, when he’d been all charm and honeyed words.
Herra continued her exercises and when he made as if to stop her forcibly, she whirled him out of the way using a simple self-defence movement.
He staggered across the room and half fell across the bed. 'What did you do to me? How dare you disobey a member of the Council!' His face was red with outrage, his whole body quivering with indignation and shock.
'How dare you assume that you have a right to command me? I'm not a member of your community.'
