Isle of Woman (Geodyssey)

by Piers Anthony

“But we could not go to the city, just for that!”

  “There is another way to see it,” Bunny said. “We would not do well, going to the city unprepared. But she is of the city; she could teach us its ways. Then perhaps it would be better.”

  “We are mountain folk!” he protested. “The city would stifle us. All those people, knowing so little about real life!”

  “But if the weather does not turn, we must go somewhere, and I think there will be problems wherever we go. The city might be the least of evils, if we have abilities those people respect, and if one of us knows its ways.”

  The prospect remained disturbing, so he changed the subject. “That is one of her problems: missing her home, her family. What are the others?”

  “She carries a baby, and she is not sure of its father.”

  “Stone is a good young man! He will treat that baby well.” But he knew that this was not her point.

  “She first had sex with the high priest of the city. It might be his baby. She fears that it will look like that priest.”

  Blaze nodded. That could indeed be the case. Or, worse, the baby could have a blaze on its forehead. That would be true disaster. “But there is nothing to be done about that,” he said. “We must simply wait for the baby, and hope it looks like Stone.”

  “Yes. In truth, most babies look the way their parents choose to think they do. It seems likely that it will seem to be of our family. It will be one of us, regardless.”

  “So that concern will resolve itself, in due course,” Blaze said, relieved that Bunny had settled the matter in her mind. “What is the third problem?”

  “Have you seen how careful she is to please Stone?”

  He laughed. “She would please him even if she didn’t try! She would please any man.”

  “Yes. But she tries almost too hard.”

  This was becoming uncomfortable again. “I have hardly seen her in these months. What I know of her I have learned from you and the girls. Why should she not do her utmost to be a good wife?”

  “Most women tire of such catering, after the marriage settles in. Haven’t you noticed?”

  He looked at her. “I have never had any complaint about you, Bunny.”

  “Because you were always willing to accept what I offered. You never expected me to be your lost dream woman.”

  “There is no dream woman,” he said without real force.

  “Perhaps. But I think Seed has a dream man.”

  “A dream man? Not Stone?”

  “She is in love with one she will not name. This is the thing she will say to no one. So she caters ardently to Stone, to prove to others and herself that she has no other love.” Bunny met his gaze briefly. “As you have always done with me.”

  “As I will continue to do, for you have always been more than worthy of me.” But she had made the problem clear.

  That started a path of thought. There was no mystery about why he had succumbed to Seed’s allure; even had he not always dreamed of an unknown, perfect woman, Seed’s great beauty would have made him desire her. But why had she desired him? She had been grateful for his kindness in her adversity, but all he had asked of her was that she be good to his son. She had sought repeated sex with him, when her only prior sexual experience had been negative. That had not seemed to make much sense, for the desire of women was not like that of men. Now he saw an answer: she feared that there could be a baby from the priest, and she did not want it. So she had tried to get a baby elsewhere. She had been increasing the chances that the baby would not be the priest’s.

  But why would she love Blaze, when there was no further point? It could only be because she saw in him the shadow of her ideal man, just as he had seen his ideal woman in her. He was old enough to know his own foolishness and not be governed by it, but she was young. He still felt the pull of her, despite his resistance. He still desired her, and not merely for sex. She came often to his thoughts when he was alone, and not only then. Now he knew that her feeling was the reflection of his. They had tried to separate after a single night, and had not succeeded. But none of this could ever be spoken.

  “She is a good young woman,” Bunny said after a fair pause. “You made an excellent purchase. It is not her fault that age has not yet worn down her fancy. Time and children may do much, however.”

  “I have tried to stay well clear,” Blaze said somewhat lamely.

  “Too hard, perhaps.”

  How well she understood him! “What would you have me do?”

  “Sometimes the image is more interesting than the reality. Do not avoid contact. Be close to your son’s wife, as you are to him. Learn from her, as she has learned from you.”

  “Learn from her?” He would not ask what his wife thought Seed had learned from him.

  “About the city. The way they speak. I think we shall need that information.”

  Blaze realized that Bunny was prepared to move to the city, and that he would have to prepare himself also. The idea disturbed him, but if the weather did not turn, it might have to be. The city evidently had ways to survive a drought, perhaps by vigorous trading for food from far away, but the mountain folk had no established trading lines.

  “I think you should be the one to tell her of our discussion,” Bunny concluded.

  “I can’t do that!”

  “That we fear we may have to move to the city. That decision must be yours.”

  “That will please her,” he agreed wanly. As he considered it, he realized why Bunny wanted him to tell Seed. Because then her pleasure at his presence would have an explanation.

  And perhaps her love would fade as she saw that Blaze was an ordinary man. The same for him, as he saw how like his daughters she was. He loved his daughters, but had no sexual inclination toward them. Bunny had concluded that separation wasn’t doing it, so was trying proximity. He hoped she was right, because he felt guilty for his illicit feeling, knowing it was irrational and that it could only hurt others he loved.

  He went to his son’s house that evening. Stone was by the fire, working on a blade, painstakingly chipping to make it right. Much of his skill was simply patience; if it took half a day to get it right, he did not begrudge the time. He smiled as he worked, liking it, and perhaps thinking of his wife. Blaze could readily appreciate that.

  “I came to talk to Seed,” he said.

  “She went for water,” Stone said. Every woman made daily trips to the nearest spring to fill the family bags with fresh water. She would be back soon.

  “Then I will talk to you,” Blaze said, sitting on an adjacent mat. He realized that he had not done this in some time. In trying to avoid Seed, he had also avoided Stone. “You know we have a drought.”

  “I know. I’m glad I am working here, instead of trying to herd balky goats.”

  “If it does not ease, we will have to move.”

  “Where would we go?”

  “Either to a new land—or to the city.”

  “The city!”

  “You have a talent that will serve as well there as here. Instead of giving your blades to a trader, who then takes them to the city, you would have them there directly. And Seed knows the city.”

  “I would not leave my family.” Stone was thinking of his parents and sisters, rather than his wife and coming baby.

  “We would go too. We could learn its ways, as Seed is learning ours.”

  Stone looked up. “Seed—she is wonderful. But sometimes she weeps, when she does not know I am near.”

  “She misses her family.”

  Stone s eyes widened. “Yes! Why didn’t I realize?”

  “Because she did not want you to. She feared that you would think she was dissatisfied with you.”

  “If she wants to go to the city, I will go to the city,” Stone said simply. “I would do anything for her. My life changed, the day you brought her to me.”

  How well Blaze understood his son’s feeling! “You became a man, when she arrived.”

  “Ye
s. I did not truly live, until she came.”

  “My own fire skill should be useful in the city,” Blaze said. “Your mother can adapt to anything. Your sisters can learn.”

  “Still, it is not a good life for real people.”

  “Perhaps the weather will turn.”

  They waited, not talking further. Soon Seed returned, bearing two heavy bags of water suspended from a wooden frame across her shoulders. “My husband, my father,” she said as she saw them.

  Blaze looked up at her. Her belly was well swollen, and the rest of her body had fleshed out somewhat to match. She was no longer the infinitely desirable slave girl. Then his eyes met hers, and it was as if a fire spark jumped between them. The love was still there, undiminished.

  “I came to talk to you,” Blaze said, breaking his gaze away. How could he ever get beyond this illicit emotion?

  Seed reached the house entrance and set down her burdens. Then she brought out another mat and kneeled on it, facing them both across the fire. “Is something wrong, my father?” It was an honorary title, customary among mountain folk, signaling dutiful devotion. Sometimes such signals were correct, but not in the proper way.

  “The drought continues, my daughter. We must consider moving. It may be that it is time to give up our mountain life and go to the city.”

  Her face froze. Blaze realized that she did not dare react, for fear of being disappointed.

  “Do you think there would be a place for all the members of our family there?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes,” she breathed. It was almost as if she added “My love.”

  “Would you be willing to teach us the ways of the city, as we have taught you the ways of the goat herders?”

  “Oh, yes!”

  “Thank you, my daughter.” Blaze allowed his gaze to meet hers again, and again the spark jumped. He saw that her eyes were shining, and not with tears of sorrow. “I shall tell the others.”

  “I will do everything I can, my father,” she said. “But I must remind you of one thing: I can not yet return to the city, because the high priest would have me killed.”

  “Maybe if you concealed your identity,” Blaze suggested. “They would not recognize you as the wife of a mountaineer.”

  “I suppose, if I cut my hair,” she said dubiously.

  “Don’t cut your hair!” Stone cried, dismayed. Blaze privately echoed the sentiment; her hair was one of her beauties. He didn’t want to see any part of her sacrificed. Sometimes he had to fight his urge to reach out and stroke that hair, as he had when they had lain in the love embrace.

  “Maybe some other way,” she said, her excitement at the prospect of returning warring with her caution.

  Blaze stood, not daring to remain any longer lest his formal mask crack. “Then we shall begin to learn, though we hope the weather changes.”

  “I did not realize that you missed your home,” Stone said to Seed.

  “My home is here,” she replied.

  “I want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy with you.”

  She was ritual-perfect. Blaze walked away, knowing that Seed would soon make Stone forget any qualms he had about anything. But probably she would no longer weep when she thought he did not hear.

  A few days later the weather turned. Rains came, and repeated, turning the pastures green. The extra goats did not have to be slaughtered, and it was not necessary to migrate.

  But Bunny did not change her mind. “Weather is treacherous,” she said. “It can turn again. We have been warned, and we must prepare.”

  So Seed taught the family the ways of the city, as the next month passed. Every evening, when the work of the day was done, she would settle herself somewhat heavily by the hearth and discuss another aspect. One evening she told them of the way its houses were, each connected to all the others, and how they used ladders to get from one to another and to get inside by climbing down from holes in the roofs.

  “But why not use the entrance on the ground?” Doe asked, perplexed. Her breasts were filling out, and it was evident that she would soon be ready for marriage herself.

  “There are no entrances on the ground,” Seed said, to general amazement. “The city sits by the marsh, and the snakes are always there, so there are no doors and no low windows. The only entrances are in the roofs.”

  “But isn’t that a lot of trouble?” Weasel asked. “How do visitors get in?”

  “We don’t want visitors at night. They might be mount—I mean, unfriendly people. So we take up the ladders and keep them out, with guards walking the roofs. In the day we put the ladders out, and everyone uses them.”

  “This is weird,” Doe said.

  Seed smiled. “To city folk, sleeping in open houses is weird.”

  “What about when you need to poop?” Mouse asked.

  “You use the leather bucket.”

  There was a general titter. “You poop in buckets?” Weasel asked. “Then what do you drink from?”

  “Water bags. Then in the morning you take the bucket to a courtyard and dump it out. You also take the ashes from the hearth and dump them on top, to control the smell.” Seed looked at Mouse. “But you can poop there directly, if you want. Just poke your bottom over the edge of a roof and let it fall.”

  “I want to poop from the roof!” the child exclaimed, delighted. “Plop! Plop!”

  “Maybe wait till someone walks by below,” Weasel suggested. “Then ssssst! on their heads.”

  They all laughed. But Blaze was not at all easy about living in such a place. Its customs were strange indeed.

  When they had the general idea of the layout of the city, they worked on the language. It was a variant of their own, but had devious nuances, and the accent was horrible. But the girls considered it a challenge, and worked to get it right. Blaze and Bunny labored at it more doggedly, finding it harder to fathom. They found it easier to settle on a few common terms that they could manage without heavy accent.

  But the weather continued good, and their concern faded. What point, learning odd material, if there would never be need for it?

  “Stay with it,” Bunny told Blaze. “You might have to visit the city anyway, sometime.”

  “Even if I’m the only one?” he asked. “I would be alone with her.”

  “What would you do with her, when she’s great with the baby?”

  He did not care to argue the point. So when he was not otherwise busy, he would settle down by the hearth and talk with Seed. Sometimes the others were all out on other chores, that Seed was now too ponderous to undertake. If she was disappointed about losing her chance to return to the city, she did not show it. She met his gaze frequently as they talked, and smiled often. He found himself smiling back. He realized that her condition did not matter, for they had sworn off sex anyway. Only their tacit love remained, unvoiced but clearly present when they were alone.

  Why had Bunny permitted this? Blaze eventually worked it out. She wanted to keep Seed happy, and knew that though Seed loved her home city, she loved Blaze more. As long as she had his continuing interest, she was satisfied. If the weather turned again, and there was another bad drought, they might still go to the city, and then Seed could be happy about that. This was an interim measure.

  Even though his love for his wife had been compromised, Blaze was coming to appreciate new aspects of Bunny’s trust and competence. What would have become of him had he married some other woman instead of her?

  As it happened, Seed’s birthing time came suddenly when the others were out. There was no time to fetch Bunny or Doe or a neighbor woman. Blaze got her to her bed, helping her the way he had helped Bunny herself, putting out clean cloth and talking calmly and encouragingly to her. But as the pains intensified she became distraught. “Oh, hold me, my love!” she cried, forgetting their pact of silence.

  He put his arms around her shoulders, holding her half-sitting in the way she wanted. She clung to him with the strength of pain and effort. “My love! My l
ove!” she screamed as the water burst.

  “My love,” he murmured in her ear, stroking her fine hair, and she relaxed for a bit.

  Then Bunny arrived. Without a word she went to work, making competent what Blaze had made incompetent, and he was able to retreat from the scene. “Fetch the women,” she said as he left.

  In due course other competent women were there, and after what seemed like interminable time, there was the cry from the birthing chamber. They wrapped the baby in a clean cloth and brought it to Seed’s arms. Then they permitted Blaze to join them, so that he could see his grandson. He was relieved to see no blaze on the tiny forehead.

  “What—?” Seed asked, seeming to wake from a sleep.

  “Male,” he said. “You have a son, Seed, and I have a grandson. The women got you through.” So that just in case she had not realized it, in her delirium, she would know now that they were no longer alone.

  Bunny helped her get the baby in position for nursing. The other women had already set about cleaning up the blood and fluid. It had not been a bad birthing, as such things went. That was another relief.

  In a moment, Seed was asleep, the baby still at her breast. Now Stone arrived.

  “You have a son,” Blaze said. “You are a father. Your wife is all right. I must go and tell your sisters.”

  Stunned, Stone nodded, staring at mother and child. Blaze departed for his own house. He hoped Seed had not spoken any more guilty words during the birthing, but he couldn’t be sure. Perhaps Bunny had cautioned her.

  Stone named the baby Tree, signifying that he would not make the mistake of requiring his son to emulate either his grandfather in fire tending or his father in stone chipping. The baby was healthy, and seemed to favor his mother, leaving questions about his sire moot. Everyone was pleased. Seed brought him to visit his grandparents and aunts often, but after the initial interested fussing by the girls, this faded. Bunny was often busy, so many times Seed was with Blaze as he worked at the hearth. They continued to go over the material of the city, and Blaze felt that he was coming to know it so well that he would be able to make his way through it and within it if he needed to. The idea of going there was growing in him, because of his increasing competence to handle it. He also realized that if his presence helped make Seed satisfied to be a mountain woman, her presence would help him appreciate the city. It was a two-way effect, as Bunny must have anticipated.