“You must be mistaken, in this case at least. If I were a product of the Dry Towns, I should be a—a chattel, as women are there; chained, some man’s property; a woman unchained is a scandal—she must bear the mark of some man’s ownership. I swore the Renunciate’s oath as soon as I was old enough, and I have—have forgotten—everything I have done since I left the Dry Towns has been a way of—”
She stopped, her voice trailing into silence, completing in her mind, a way of proving to myself that I would never wear chains for any man… Kindra said once to me that most women, and most men too. believe themselves free and weight themselves with invisible chains…
Cholayna brushed her hand absently over her silver-white hair.
“If everything you have done since you left the Dry Towns has been a way of proving that you were not one of them, then, whether you live by their precepts or no, they have formed everything you have done. If they had left no influence on you, you would have chosen your way without thinking whether it was their way or the reverse—wouldn’t you?”
Jaelle muttered “I suppose so.” She was still carefully breathing, forcing herself to relax, to unclench her fists.
Cholayna added, casually, “I know little of the Renunciates, either. You spoke of the Oath, and so did Magda, but I know nothing of it. Is it a secret, or can you tell me what a Renunciate, a Free Amazon, swears?”
Jaelle said tiredly, “The oath is not secret. I will gladly tell you.” She began “From this day henceforth I swear—”
“Wait—” Cholayna lifted a hand. “May I turn on a recording device for the records?”
There was that word again! But what was the point in arguing? It was, perhaps, the only way to make the Guild House comprehensible to an outsider. She said, “Certainly,” and waited.
“From this day I renounce the right to marry save as a freemate; no man shall bind me di catenas and I will dwell in no man’s house as a barragana,” she began, and steadily recited the Oath from beginning to end. How could Cholayna believe that she, if she were truly, as the woman said, a product formed by the Dry-Town culture, without hope of change in personality or sexuality or will, could have freely chosen the Oath? Ridiculous, on the face of it!
Cholayna listened quietly, nodding once or twice at some provision or other.
“This is, of course, not strange to me,” she said, “for in the Empire, and particularly on the Alpha planet where I grew up, it was taken for granted that women had these rights and responsibilities; although we also admit,” she said with a faint smile, “that the father of a child also has rights and responsibilities in determining care and upbringing. Some day, if you wish, I should like to discuss this with you at length. Also, I can see why it was that the Free Amazons—forgive me, the Renunciates— were the first Darkovan women to seek to learn from the Terrans. I have two things to ask of you. The first is that you should visit Magda in the Guild House and talk with her about choosing suitable women as candidates for Medic training—or whatever else seems suitable.”
“That will be my pleasure,” Jaelle said formally, but her mind ran counterpoint, If she thinks I will help to persuade our women to act as Intelligence spies, she may think again.
“Jaelle, what was your work among the—the Renunciates? What sort of work do they do?”
“Any honest work,” Jaelle said, “Among us there are bakers, cheese-makers, midwives—oh, yes, we train midwives especially in the Guild House in Arilinn—herb sellers, confectioners, mercenary soldiers—” Abruptly she stopped, realizing where this line of questioning was leading.
“No, we are not all soldiers, Cholayna, nor mercenaries, nor sword-women: if I had to gain my porridge with the sword, I should have starved long ago. The outsiders think always of the more visible Free Amazons, the ones who hire out as soldiers and mercenaries. There was a time, long ao, when there was a Sisterhood of the Sword—in the Ages of Chaos—it was dissolved when the Guild, the Comhi-letzii, were formed. The Sisterhood were mercenaries and soldiers, then. You asked what I did? I am a travel-organizer; we provide escort for ladies traveling alone, at least that was how it started, because we could chaperone as well as guide and protect. Later, men also came to us, so that we could tell them how many pack-beasts to hire, what food to buy for them, and how much they would need for the journey—we also act as guides through the worst country and the mountain passes.” She smiled a little, forgetting her anger. “They say now that an Amazon guide will go where no man in the Hellers will dare to set his foot.”
“That would be invaluable to us,” Cholayna said quietly. “Mapping and Exploring can always use guides and personnel who can tell them how to outfit themselves for the weather and the terrain. Lives have been lost for lack of that knowledge. If the Renunciates will consent to work for us, we will be truly grateful.” She paused a moment. “I wish, too, that you would consent to talk with one of our agents about what you remember of the Dry Towns, however simple. I am not asking that you should spy upon your own people,” she added shrewdly, “only that you should help to prevent misunderstandings—to tell us what your people think our people should know about your world, forms of courtesy, ways to avoid giving offense by ignorance—”
“Yes, of course,” said Jaelle. She could not remember now why she felt so angry at the very thought of talking about the Dry Towns. She was an employee of the Empire, so employed with the consent of her Guild Mothers, and as such she should obey every lawful command of her employer.
“For instance, we have an agent—his name is Raymon Kadarin—who is willing to go into the Dry Towns and send back some information from there. I want you to meet him, to see if you think he could go into the Dry Towns without being immediately spotted as a spy. What we know of the Domains— she broke off as a light began to blink on her desk with repetitive insistence.
“I told those fellows not to disturb us,” Cholayna said, frowning slightly, “Just let me get rid of them, Jaelle, and we’ll go on. Yes?” she snapped, pressing the blinking stud.
“The Chief’s on a rampage,” said the disembodied voice. “He’s looking all over for that Darkovan—you know, Haldane’s girl? Finally Beth said she was in your office, and he made a scene. Can you send her down here double-quick and calm him down?”
Jaelle felt herself clench tight with wrath. She was not Haldane’s girl, she was not a girl at all, she was a woman and an Empire employee in her own right, and if they wanted her, they could have the courtesy to ask for her properly by name! She started to blurt out some of this, then saw Cholayna was frowning, and sensed that the woman was almost equally angry.
“Jaelle n’ha Melora is in my office, and I have not yet finished my conference,” said Cholayna coldly. “If Montray wishes to speak with her, he may request her to come to his office when I have finished.”
Jaelle had met the Legate at the Council and had not liked him. She knew that Magda, too, had small respect for the man who had been her immediate superior; that he knew far less of Darkover than Magda herself, or any of half a dozen agents who worked under him. Peter, too, had said something like that; Granted, the man’s a career diplomat, not an Intelligence Agent, but he ought to know something about the world where he’s stationed!
Cholayna pushed the button and it went dark. “That will hold him for a little while, but I can’t guarantee that he won’t send for you right away. I’ve done my best.” She smiled at Jaelle, in a sudden, conspiratorial way, and Jaelle realized she liked this woman, she had one friend here, at least.
“Now, how would you like to record what you know of the Dry Towns?” Cholayna asked. “You can put it into a tape for Records, or you can talk directly to the Agent…”
I’d rather not do either, Jaelle thought. She hated talking on tape, but she had not learned to relate to the men she found here in the Headquarters. The thought of talking to a strange Terran Agent, to any Terran man without at least the tacit protection of Peter’s presence, frightened her. Yet the words of
the Amazon Oath tormented her. I shall appeal to no man as of right, for protection… what, she thought distractedly, has happened to me, since I have come to live here as Piedro’s freemate?
Cholayna was still expectantly looking at her and Jaelle realized that she had not answered. She stammered, “I’d—I’d like to think about it a little, before I make up my mind.”
What I really want, she thought, is to talk mostly to the women. I feel safe and comfortable with Cholayna, even with Bethany. I feel secure relating to Darkovan men, even those who detest everything the Free Amazons stand for, because I know how to disarm their suspicions, to work among them as one of themselves. She did not think she could learn to do that with Terran men, and she didn’t really want to try.
And then she felt ashamed of herself. She was a grown woman, a Renunciate, she should not expect to hide behind Cholayna or even behind Piedro. She said almost aggressively, “I’ll talk to the Agent,” and stared at the floor, uncomfortably conscious that Cholayna was looking at her with sympathy.
I’m a big girl now, I don’t need to be protected or mothered… she told herself, wishing she could feel the truth of that.
The light on Cholayna’s desk blinked again, and she said to it, irritably stabbing with one polished nail at the button, “What now?”
“Mr. Montray to see you,” answered the voice, and Cholayna raised her eyebrow.
“The mountain cannot fly to the birds, therefore each of the birds must fly to the mountain,” she said wryly. “That is an old proverb on my planet, Jaelle. I’m afraid I’ll have to let him in. You can go, if you’d rather.”
Jaelle shook her head. “I shall have to meet him sometime,” she said, bracing herself for the graying, disapproving Montray. The man who entered, however, was a stranger, at least twenty years younger than the Legate Jaelle remembered.
“You were expecting my father?” he asked at Cholayna’s look of surprise. “I’m Wade Montray, and Father sent me up to look the girl over and see what use we could make of her—” He broke off, looked around at Jaelle and grinned apologetically.
“I did not know you were still here; I don’t mean to be rude. I believe I saw you at the Council, but we weren’t formally introduced.”
Now she remembered; he, at least, spoke the language flawlessly and had interrupted some of his father’s more tactless and unsuitable comments. “Yes, I remember seeing you, Mr. Montray—”
“Wade,” he said, “but I know that isn’t easy to say in your language. I’m usually called Monty, miss—” again he broke off. “I am sorry; I don’t know the polite address for a Renunciate—”
“I am Jaelle n’ha Melora. If you do not feel ready to use my name, you may say mestra. But if we are to work together and I am to call you Monty, I should be Jaelle.”
He nodded, repeating the name carefully. “May I take her down to the Old Man’s office, Cholayna? Or do you still need her up here? If you do, I’ll try and smooth it over a little.” He hesitated and said, “Look, he really doesn’t mean any harm. It’s just—well, he’s been running everything, Intelligence, and Communications, Linguistics, all that stuff out of his office, and all of a sudden he doesn’t know where his authority leaves off and yours begins, so he’s feeling a little raw around the edges.”
Cholayna nodded. She looked a little grim. “I can see that it would be hard for him. Technically of course I am not responsible to any planetary Coordinator, but only to Head Center. I’ll try not to—to step on his feet, unless he gets in the way too much—I mean, in the way of Empire Intelligence. Jaelle, please feel free to call on me for help any time. And ask Peter to come in and see me sometime tomorrow, will you?” Cholayna turned her attention back to the lights blinking on her console, and Jaelle turned to the door with young Montray. Monty, she reminded herself, to distinguish him from his father.
“Your command of the language is excellent,” she said, as they went down the hall. “How—
He grinned at her disarmingly.
“How do I speak the language so well when Father still needs an interpreter? I came here before I was ten years old, and I’ve always been good at languages. The old man kept expecting, every year, that he’d be shipped out next year to a place he liked better, and so he never bothered with the language. I was shipped offworld for a proper Empire education when I was fourteen, but I liked it here and couldn’t wait to come back. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you with my personal problems. We can take this elevator.”
The sickening drop was less frightening now; her legs were almost steady under her as they stepped out. In Montray’s office, the plump, balding official was seated near a window looking out over the spaceport.
“I asked you to come down here, Mrs. Haldane,” he said, in casta so poor and stumbling that Jaelle decided it would not be the least use to correct him about her name, “because I have a special assignment for you. My colleague here, Alessandro Li.” A tall man, standing beside his desk, turned and bowed to Jaelle.
“He has been sent here as a Special Representative of the Senate at Head Center, with diplomatic status, to investigate whether Cottman Four shall retain its Closed World status or be reclassified, and to make recommendations about a Legation here. Sandro, this is the first Native Darkovan woman in Intelligence; she is married to Peter Haldane—”
“I know Haldane’s background in Intelligence,” the man interrupted. “Alien anthropology specialist; excellent field operative.” His casta was better than Montray’s, though not perfect. He turned and bowed slightly to Jaelle. “It is a pleasure to meet you, domna.”
Jaelle forbore, for a moment, to correct him. Alessandro Li was a tall man, hatchet-jawed, with steel-gray eyes under protruding eyebrows, the whole face shadowed by bushy dark hair and made—to Jaelle’s eyes—ridiculous by a foppishly trimmed moustache.
“Do you think you can fit him to travel incognito in the Hellers and the Kilghard Hills, mestra?” Montray asked.
The first thought that came to her mind was an absurd, not with that moustache, but she bit it back; after all, the man was new to her world and even from traveling between mountains and Domains she knew that the small things, dress and culture patterns and body language, varied so enormously that their significance could not be taken for granted. She saw, however, a gleam of amusement in Monty’s eye and knew that his first thought had been the same as hers. So she studied Alessandro Li for a moment without speaking. At last she said, “He could pass in the Hellers, up around MacAran country; some of them are dark and—and bony, like that. He would have to wear his hair longer, and either shave clean or wear a fuller beard. And he would have to be properly dressed, of course. And there is no way that he could pass until he has more training in the language.”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” said the elder Montray with unexpected humility. “Languages aren’t my strong point; that’s why I miss Magda; she was my best interpreter. Wasted, of course, as an interpreter; she was the best undercover agent we had. But you think he could, eventually, pass?”
Alessandro Li was trying to meet her eyes; Jaelle colored and dropped her own. There was no way he could know—yet—that this was rude in their society, but Monty spoke up.
“To start with, Sandro,” he said, “you don’t try to make eye contact with a strange woman, not here in the Domains, unless you think she’s a prostitute trying to pick you up. If Jaelle’s husband were here, he could call challenge on you for looking at her like that. Call it your first lesson in cross-cultural courtesy here on Darkover.”
“Oh, right,” the man said promptly, and dropped his eyes. “No offense meant, miss—excuse me—mestra, is that right?”
“None taken,” she said just as promptly, “but this is the kind of thing I mean. Piedro could help him more than I, of course. And it wouldn’t be easy. It would be simpler to prepare—” she gestured toward Monty, who laughed and said, “I’d like to work in the field, of course. But as for sending Sandro out in the field—w
ell, it seems to me that it would make more sense to let the actual fieldwork be done by our trained operatives, the ones who can go out and never be spotted as Terran because in everything that counts they are Darkovan; Haldane, Lorne—Cargill, Kadarin, even myself. Then we could report to Sandro and he could make his final decision from that.”
Russell Montray leaned his chin on his hands and thought about that for a moment. Finally he said, “There’s only one problem with that. Haldane, Lorne, Kadarin—the ones who can really pass in the field—they are Darkovan, for all intents and purposes. Yes, they’ve taken a Service oath, and I’m not questioning their loyalty, but it’s natural that they’d think in terms of what’s best for Darkover, not necessarily what’s best for us. No offense meant, Jaelle—” he mispronounced her name, but at least he wasn’t calling her Mrs. Haldane and she could tell that he meant to be friendly—“but Haldane married Darkovan—and now Magda has pledged to spend half a year in that Free Amazon women’s commune or whatever it is. And we don’t want the decisions made by someone who’s gone native on us; the investigation must be supervised by an objective observer, not prejudiced in favor of the Darkovan view of everything. Do you understand?”
Jaelle stared out the huge window that overlooked the spaceport. One of the Big Ships was there, a ground crew crawling over it, servicing the spaceborne monster which had come here, not because it cared to come to Cottman Four, Darkover, but simply because Darkover was a convenient way station on the way to somewhere else. The quick retort on her tongue, that Sandro Li would be equally prejudiced in favor of the Empire’s view, would not mean anything to Russell Montray.
The Saga of the Renunciates Page 35
