“I don’t think it’s like that at all,” Magda said, remembering the man she had met in the stables that morning. This man was one of them, no longer torn between two conflicting worlds; he had found a home. “The Empire has him listed as dead. Maybe he wants it that way.”
But Aleki was not listening. “I’ve got to find out what he knows. Just now, when we’re making really crucial decisions about Darkover, he could be the key to the whole thing.”
Conflicting Oaths. As much as the Renunciate Oath meant to her, she was in a sense sworn here too. She was Terran, though she did not want to be, and the thought terrified her. She rose decisively.
“I really have to go, Monty.” As he rose to escort her, she shook her head. “No, no, I was finding my way around this place when you were still studying for the Service entrance exams!”
She could see that hurt him. Was he so conscious of himself as novice and of her as expert? He doesn’t deserve anything but good from me. I used him and I despise myself for it, and now I’m trying to make him feel small. What a bitch I am! She let him put his arm round her.
“Are you going to the Festival Ball in Comyn Castle?”
“A Renunciate? My dear!” She had to laugh. “The people in the castle don’t know we exist; they’d invite you people first!”
“Well, that is exactly what they have done,” Monty began, and Aleki said, “As it happens I will be there myself; I came here to tell Monty, and that was one reason I was pleased to find you here, Miss Lorne.” He handed Monty a sheet of elegant parchment.
“As you can see, it requests the Coordinator, with chosen members of his staff and suite, to attend the Ball as a gesture of good will between Terrans and Darkover,” he said, “and people who have lived here a long time, know how to behave properly, dance well and so forth—such as you, Miss Lorne.”
“As a matter of fact, I did know,” Monty said. “The old man mentioned it. But what with one thing and another, I never got to mention it to you, Magda.” His grin struck her as oddly boyish and vulnerable, a side of him she had never seen, hiding behind the hard masks Empire men wore. Peter had shown her this side too, and she wondered if all men had it, even Darkover men like Dom Gabriel or Kyril Ardais, hiding behind the imposed roles of their society. Men are as much trapped in their social roles as women. Aren’t they? But they at least had the benefits of those roles; it was easier to play the role of master than of slave!
Her first impulse was to refuse at once. A Renunciate at Festival Ball, and as part of the Terran delegation? If anyone who had seen her at the Guild House was there, her careful cover of half a year would go up in smoke.
But they would have to know who she was, sooner or later. She was Terran; why pretend she was not? And it might just be the first chance any Terran woman had ever had or would ever have—to attend Festival Ball in Comyn Castle!
“You can fill me in on everything I need to know,” Aleki said, “and keep me from making any real social blunders…”
“And my father will be leading the delegation,” said Monty, “You owe it to all of us to come and keep him from doing something disgraceful.”
“Oh, surely Jaelle—or Peter—”
“I’m not sure Jaelle likes me,” Aleki said, “She’s civil enough, but I get the feeling somehow that she’s fighting me. Haldane resents me, and I don’t blame him. His career’s here on this world, and I come and then I go but still he knows my report can make or break him. There’s no way he’s ever going to like me. I’d like to go with someone who’s not hostile to me.”
She sighed and nodded. “When you put it that way, of course.”
“Do you have anything to wear? Or shall I have them requisition something for you?”
“I can do better than that. At Midwinter, Lady Rohana gave me a gown—I wondered when I’d ever have a chance to wear it again.”
“Shall I fetch you from the Guild House?” Monty asked, and she laughed merrily.
“Heavens, no! I can imagine the talk that would cause! I love my sisters, but they have one trait I despise in women—they gossip! I don’t grudge them their fun—but I don’t want to be part of it either. I’ll meet you in the street near the castle.”
She gave Aleki her hand; Monty insisted on taking her to the door.
I like him better as a colleague than a lover. I would rather be his friend than his mistress. Reluctantly, she let him take a farewell kiss; she did not want to hurt him.
Walking back through the streets, she remembered that Jaelle had once accused her of being too protective toward men. Probably true, she thought, I’m stronger than most of the men I know, and they’re so damned easy to hurt. The Amazons say it’s wrong to hurt a woman; why is it right to hurt a man?
Or have so many of them suffered so much at the hands of men—Camilla, for instance—that they no longer believe men can be hurt at all, but are always superior and invulnerable?
She could feel for Monty—alone and friendless on a strange world—because she remembered when she had been alone on the Alpha colony for training, a stranger from a pioneer world, an exotic, a difficult conquest, there were so many men who had wanted to seduce her because she was alien and different; not because of who or what she was. She had been so lonely. She was lonely now…
Men are so weak. Or do I surround myself with men who are weak, because the strong ones would challenge me too much?
There was no one on hall duty, but Rezi came, her hands floury from the kitchen, to let her in.
“Some of our sisters from Bellarmes Guild House are here for Festival, and you will be going to the women’s dance tonight, won’t you? Camilla said she was going with you.”
Magda thought she really would have preferred the women’s dance to the dance in the public square of Thendara, but she shook her head. “I am sorry; I am promised elsewhere. I did not think Camilla would have involved me in her plans without asking.”
Rezi made a rueful gesture. “Very well; but do not come and weep in my lap if Camilla is angry with you!”
Magda flared, “I am not Camilla’s property nor is she mine!”
Rezi laughed and shook her head. “You and Camilla must settle your lovers’ quarrels without me.”
Magda went up the stairs frowning. It had never occurred to her that Camilla might expect, or feel she had a right to expect her company at Midsummer. I should have known. Oath-sisters are family. If it came to that, she thought she would rather be with Camilla, or even with Rezin whom she really did not know well or like much, than with Monty and Aleki and the whole damned Terran delegation! But she had given her word, and it was important to her work.
She spread her holiday gown on the bed to air; she had showered in the Terran HQ, so she set about brushing up her short hair; while she was at it, Camilla came into the room and stopped short in delighted amazement.
“How pretty you look, breda! But that gown is too fine for the women’s dance; our sisters from Bellarmes have been on the road for days and have only traveling-wear, and many of the women will be poor widows and the like who would live with us in the Amazon house if they could, but they have children or aging parents they must care for. Festival gowns like that would make them feel very shabby, so we usually do not dress up at all for the women’s dances. Besides, dresses like that are only to attract men!”
“Oh, Camilla, I am sorry! But I cannot go to with you to the women’s dance, I am expected elsewhere…”
Camilla’s low voice was filled with ripples of amusement. “And no doubt you have been invited to Comyn Castle and Lord Hastur himself will lead you out to dance!”
Magda began weakly to giggle. “I don’t know about Lord Hastur,” she began, “but the truth is, Camilla… oh, you’ll never believe this!” She broke off; she could hardly tell Camilla about the Terrans and Alessandro Li’s insistence that it was her duty to come.
Fortunately Camilla assumed at once that she had had the invitation through Jaelle, who was her oath-mother;
and an invitation from Comyn amounted, after all, to a royal command.
“How splendid! You must tell me all about it afterward, breda. You have no jewels, but I have a necklace of firestones I can lend you; it is just the color to look beautiful with that dress,” she said, and went to fetch it. When Camilla brought it, Magda stared at the precious jewels.
“Camilla, it’s too much, I can’t take that—”
“Why not? What is mine is yours,” Camilla said simply, “and it is for sure I shall never dance at Comyn Castle with the Hasturs! It was my mother’s; I saw her only once after—” she hesitated, “after what I told you; but when she died, it was sent to me by a messenger. I never wear jewelry; but there is no reason it should lie forever in a box and not be displayed on the throat of a beautiful woman for once.” She put it round Magda’s neck, and Magda said impulsively, “You are beautiful to me, Camilla!”
Camilla laughed. “I did not know you suffered also from poor eyesight with all your other troubles,” she said, but she smiled at Magda, and caught her close in a quick embrace. “The Comyn ball ends at midnight,” she said, “and we will go on in the public square till dawn. Come and join us afterward.”
Magda said impulsively, “I would really rather stay with you. I only wish I could.”
I would. This isn’t a pleasure for me, it’s going back on duty. Camilla’s worth any ten of them, and more fun to be with.
Camilla’s face lighted. She said, “Really?” and caught Magda closer still, She held Magda tight, her face buried in Magda’s hair. She whispered “Margali, Margali… you know I love you …” and could not go on. After a minute, when her voice was steady again, she said, “You are not, like Keitha, a cristoforo… it does not horrify you…” and broke off again.
I should have expected this. I have been backing away from it since I came to this house. I discovered this day that it was not a man I wanted. I did not want Peter, and Monty was no better. I should have known all along…
I gave myself to Monty and I did not care for him. And Camilla is my sister, my closest friend here, she has cared for me and stood by me when I was in disgrace, whenever I was alone here and needed a friend, there she stood, asking for nothing, offering me love and devotion. In the name of the Goddess herself, how can I blind myself to the truth, how can I give myself to Monty who is nothing to me, and refuse Camilla this? She kissed Camilla’s soft greying curls, raised the woman’s face and kissed her on the lips. Camilla smiled at her, breathless, and Magda said hesitantly, “I—I don’t know—no, I am not a cristoforo, the idea does not—does not trouble me in that way, but 1—I don’t know, I never thought about it—” she fell silent, fumbling for words.
Never thought about it, that I could love my friends, instead of responding to men who are after all alien to me… she knew that it was more than this, she was not certain, but if she could try to make Monty happy, when he was nothing to her, she was willing—even eager—to turn to Camilla.
“But I don’t know—I have never—”
Camilla stopped her confused words with a kiss; but then, taking Magda’s face between her hands, she looked at her seriously.
“Do you mean this? Even when you were a young girl, you had no bredhya … ?”
Numbly, Magda shook her head. Never. I had no woman friend, not even an ordinary friend, not a lover, till I came to the Guild House. I did not even know that I wanted a woman for a friend until I discovered myself risking my life for Jaelle.
It almost seemed to her that Camilla could read her thoughts a little.
“It’s all right, love,” she said in a whisper. “Love is a simple thing, a very simple thing… come and let me show you how simple.”
* * *
Chapter Two
There was nothing inside the HQ to distinguish Midsummer from Midwinter. The light was the same—no windows to throw back the heavy winter draperies, no smell of baking in the air, none of the street sounds of merrymaking. But when Peter came in, she managed to find a smile for him.
From behind his back, rather self-consciously, he produced one of the baskets of fruit and flowers that vendors sold at this season in the streets. She was touched; he must have gone into the Old Town for it.
“From Midwinter to Midsummer; we have been together half a year, Jaelle. Who could forget that? And when Midwinter comes again, we shall be a family of three.” He caught her close in his arms, kissing her, and she felt a flood of warmth for him. He had remembered. But it was not, quite, the old warmth. That was gone forever, and there was only emptiness where it had been. As she nibbled on a piece of the fruit, and went to find something to put the flowers in water, she wondered if this was why Renunciates vowed never to marry di catenas; because that first feeling went away so swiftly… he came up behind her, holding her familiarly and whispering in her ear.
“You must find your finest outfit,” he murmured, “for dancing tonight, even if you don’t do much dancing in your condition—”
“I don’t really want to go to the public dance in the square,” she demurred. “It’s always so crowded, and there are riffraff— sometimes an Amazon will get into fights with men who want to prove something—”
“Nonsense,” Peter said. “I’ll be with you; do you think I would let any man lay hands on my wife? Yes, yes, I know, you’re strong, your Oath says you can protect yourself, but if you think I’d let a pregnant woman fight… anyhow, there’s no question of the public dance,” he added. “It’s a famous first for Darkover, darling, and I’m sure you had something to do with it. An invitation has come from Comyn Council for Montray and a delegation from the Terran Headquarters; and of course they specified you and I should make one couple, since you are Darkovan and I have worked so often in the field that I know manners, language, protocol for such things. They are trying to cement good relations by asking certain hand-picked members of the staff—”
“That would certainly leave out Russ Montray,” Jaelle said, noting that her tone was acid. Peter shook his head.
”Unfortunately the Coordinator can’t be left out, but an unofficial word came that I’m supposed to stick to his elbow and make sure he doesn’t do anything too ghastly. And of course Monty will be there. But you’re assigned to stick tight to Cholayna, since she’s never been in the field and never will, and she’s the only woman here with rank suitable for the Coordinator. I wish we could manage to get Magda from the Guild House but I don’t suppose they’d let her go. Between us we’re hoping to keep the Old Man out of trouble.”
Jaelle still cringed at the disrespect in his voice. If the man was so incompetent, they should remove him from office, or at least make sure he was a figurehead without power; as Comyn Council had done with several recent kings, and she supposed they had done with Dom Gabriel—everyone knew Rohana had been the real power behind Ardais, for many years.
Peter directed her eyes to the invitation. “Look, we were specially requested— ‘ and he pointed. ”Mr. and Mrs. Peter Haldane…”
Men dia pre’zhiuro… never be known again by the name of father, husband or lover… “Peter,” she said, her voice dangerously quiet, “I am not Mrs. Peter Haldane. I am Jaelle n’ha Melora. I will not say this to you again.”
He flinched, but protested. “I know that, love. But the Terrans do not understand, and why does it matter what they call you? It is a legal formality, no more. They probably looked at your name on the payroll lists—don’t blame me for it.”
She let the paper drop with a curious sense of finality. My whole identity gone. Not Jaelle n’ha Melora. Not even Jaelle, daughter of Jalak. Just an attachment of Peter Haldane, wife, mother of his child… . I am no one. Not here. Peter is right. It doesn’t matter.
She saw him relax. “I was sure you’d be reasonable,” he said. “That’s my good girl.” Clearly without speech she heard him say, I knew you’d see it my way. “What are you going to wear? You can’t go in uniform, or in Amazon breeches…”
“I suppose I
shall wear the green gown Rohana gave me at Midwinter,” she said, trying to recapture the excitement of their first dance together, but he did not even remember; he shook his head and said “That’s been seen; for this you should have something new and special.”
“I have dresses at home in the Guild House, but my own clothes would not fit me now.” She looked ruefully at her thickening waist. “But Rafaella and I have always worn one another’s clothes, and she is heavier than I; her dresses will fit me perfectly now, and she would be glad to lend me one.”
How she had twitted Rafaella when her waist had thickened and she could not wear Jaelle’s clothes!
“I can’t let you borrow somebody else’s used clothes!”
“Piedro, don’t be absurd, what are sisters for?”
“My wife does not have to borrow clothes, or wear an old, worn dress!”
“Piedro,” she said, reasonably, “Rafaella dresses very well, she never wears a Festival gown more than once or twice, and no one here has seen any of them, they might as well be new.” It seemed that Piedro was two men again, her lover, and this crazy Terran with his absurd prejudices and notions, standing between her and her beloved Piedro. “Be reasonable, Piedro. Where in Thendara would we find a dressmaker who would make us a gown on Festival itself? I must either wear my old green gown—though I cannot think of a gown I have worn but once as old—borrow one from Rafaella—or wear my old breeches,” she finished, laughing. “There is no other choice!”
“I hadn’t thought of that. It is short notice, isn’t it?” He frowned, then his eyes lit up. “I know, we’ll go down to Costuming and get them to make up something; it isn’t a holiday here. Let me have the green gown—we’ll have it copied in some other fabric; do you like blue?”
That took the rest of the day, with barely a moment to snatch a bite of dinner before it was time to get dressed. It seemed to Jaelle that she was always snatching at something in haste— food, hello-good-bye, a shower, piece of paper with important message, a piece of clothing, a minute for lovemaking. She was getting heartily sick of it, but it wouldn’t do to be too late; by the time the dress was sent up by messenger, carefully wrapped in plastic sheeting, she was saving seconds, and looking wistfully at the comfortable trail leathers as she brushed out the curls in her hair. As the yards and yards of skirt spilled from the box, Jaelle gasped; it was exquisite, low-cut, trimmed with marl-fur and embroideries. Then, looking more closely, she realized it was not spider-silk, nor fur… there was not an inch of honest thread in it. Just chemicals, all artificial, like all Terran clothing. Darkovan made, it would have cost a season’s income from a good-sized estate, but it was a sham, a fraud.
The Saga of the Renunciates Page 63
