And she moved toward the man she had called Dom Ann’dra.
And then Jaelle saw something which made her realize why she could never be Magda’s replacement, or even her equal, in the Terran Zone. As she moved into Ann’dra’s visual field, Magda was a very proper and ladylike Darkovan woman, except for the short-cropped Amazon curls. Then, for perhaps a half a second, just as Ann’dra’s eyes lighted on her, she became transformed into a Terran; it was as if Jaelle could see through the Darkovan lady, who might have been Comyn of the second rank, to the woman standing there, as if in the half-naked Terran uniform, a perfect representative of the Empire. And then again she was a correctly courteous Darkovan noblewoman, bowing to a Comyn noble and tacitly asking permission to approach him.
Dom Ann’dra bowed over Magda’s hand. Jaelle was not close enough to hear any of what they were saying, though it was low-voiced and quick, but she was confused again, surely this man was a Comyn noble, how could anyone possibly believe him Terran? Then Magda was back at her side again, and they were drifting together toward the buffet table, and Jaelle found that she had one sharp impression in her mind of Dom Ann’dra, Comyn or Terran; a tall powerful man, fair-haired, not handsome, but with an impression of immense power and self-confidence. It reminded her of—she searched in her mind for impressions—of the time when she had been presented, as a child, to Lorill Hastur, Regent of Comyn. He had been a small, quiet man, soft-spoken, almost diffident—or perhaps that was only good manners. But nevertheless she had the impression, behind the courteous quiet facade, of almost awesome personal power, kept perfectly controlled. It was what she associated with Comyn. Dom Gabriel had never had it, but then, he had been, since she knew him, an invalid. But that a Terran should have it? Nonsense; it must be only a trick of his great height and enormously powerful frame. The buffet was all but deserted; Jaelle scooped up a cup of some fruit drink but when she put it too her lips it was too sweet and she set it aside almost untasted.
“Look,” Magda said, “I think he is leaving.” And indeed Dom Ann’dra and the man with him were bowing before Prince Aran Elhalyn as if taking formal leave.
“It doesn’t make any difference, you know,” Jaelle said abruptly. “That man could talk all day to Montray, or to Aleki, without giving anything away that he didn’t want them to know.”
Magda was filling a small dish at the buffet with an assortment of fruits in cream. It looked delicious, and Jaelle looked at the other colorful delicacies almost wistfully, wishing she could manage to feel hungry enough to try them.
Magda said, “Can’t you see? That’s why I had to keep them apart. No matter what he told Li, it would be wrong; what’s the old proverb, it takes two for the truth, one to speak true and one to hear? Alessandro Li has made up his own mind about Carr; the truth is beyond him. What he wants is an excuse to have the Comyn declare Carr persona non grata so that Li could wring him out and find out everything he thinks Ann’dra can tell him about the Comyn. Then the Altons would have a grudge against the Terrans that would last for generations. And if Carr made up the lies Alessandro expects to hear he’d find some way to twist it…” Magda broke off, and Jaelle could almost hear her say, I am disloyal, disloyal to my own people as I have been disloyal to everyone, and her dismay stabbed with real pain at Jaelle.
She is my sister, and I cannot help her because I myself am so filled with confusion!
Magda gasped, “God above!” and abruptly she was thrusting through the crowd, muttering apologies. Jaelle, following slowly with her plate in hand, saw that Alessandro Li and Russell Montray, Peter hurrying behind them, were approaching Carr’s party near the door. Peter caught at the Coordinator’s shoulder, expostulating with him in a whisper, but Montray wrenched loose.
He walked up directly to Carr and said something in a low voice.
Jaelle could not hear what Dom Ann’dra said in reply; she saw only the frosty politeness in his voice. Montray said something loud and aggressive this time, and Dom Ann’dra’s two bodyguards closed in, one on either side, clearly ready to protect their lord from this bumptious alien.
The tension was now plain enough to draw attention from onlookers, as Montray said, clearly enough for Jaelle to hear every word, “Look, I just need to talk to you for a few minutes; I’m sure you don’t want to do it in front of everybody here, do you? But I’ll do it that way if you leave me no alternative…”
Peter grabbed him urgently, physically hauling him backward, and Ann’dra’s bodyguards closed in, their intent and threat unmistakable. Suddenly a little murmur ran through the crowd, and Aran Elhalyn, prince of the Domains, between his aide and young Danvan Hastur, came toward them, the crowd parting with little respectful murmurs to either side. Magda caught Alessandro Li by the shoulder and said something urgent in an undertone, and Li turned and bowed to the nobles. He was speaking Terran Standard and Magda, at his elbow—and Jaelle noticed, it was very clearly the Terran Magda again—translated in fluent casta;
“Majesty, your pardon is humbly beseeched; this matter will be attended in private; and we gravely regret any disturbance.” Even before Magda finished speaking, Prince Aran waved a negligent hand, dismissing the matter, and turned away, and Alessandro Li said in a savage undertone, “Montray, damn it, one more word and I’ll make damn sure you never get another post except punching buttons in a penal colony!”
Jaelle wondered how she could hear at this distance. It didn’t matter. Peter came and guided her to the rest of the delegation. The music had surged up again and a group of cadets in black and green were dancing some kind of energetic dance with a lot of stamping and kicking; Prince Aran had withdrawn to watch them.
Dom Ann’dra and his party were gone. Peter shook his head and muttered “That tears it. Everybody knows what Montray is. Nobody has taken official notice of it before now—”
Russell Montray was muttering, “I am going to make an official appeal to Lord Hastur. That man is a Terran citizen and I demand the right to speak to him officially—
“Let it alone sir,” Monty said quietly, “before you get us all expelled from here. Haldane knows what he’s talking about. And so does Magda—”
Montray turned on them both in a fury. “And I’ve had enough of both of those damned so-called experts, and their insubordination,” he snarled, in a grim undertone. “I’ve put up with it, and knuckled under to the way you go around bootlicking the natives, just about long enough! Because you think you are rated expert, you think you can get away with anything! Well, I have heard enough and I mean enough! The minute I get back to HQ I am going to put through a formal request to have both of you transferred out, as far as I can, somewhere in the other end of the Galaxy, and I’ll make damn sure neither of you ever gets clearance to get back! I still have that much authority, and I should have done it a long time ago! As for you, Lorne, I want you back on HQ and under orders tonight. Not tomorrow. Tonight.”
“I am officially on leave,” Magda began.
“Leave canceled,” he snapped. “Recalled to active duty under orders under Section 16-4—”
“To hell with that,” Magda said, and to Jaelle it seemed that visible, electrical sparks were flying from her eyes and creating a field of light all round her, “I resign. Cholayna, witness it. I’m sorry, it has nothing to do with you—”
“Magda,” said Monty, putting his arm around her waist, “Honey, listen to me. Everybody calm down. Father—” he addressed the angry Montray, “this is neither the time nor the place—”
“I’ve calmed down and listened for the last time in my life; don’t you think I know what everybody here thinks, that I’m just a figurehead and no one has to listen to me? Well, it’s about time I stopped listening to that shit! This whole damned planetary administration has been mismanaged for forty years, we’ve been handling people with gloves and it’s about time we made them realize that they can’t face up to the Terran Empire that way. There’s going to be a new deal around here. I am going to have some
new Intelligence people here, people whose main loyalty is to the Empire, and I want a clean sweep of the people who have been mismanaging everything so badly! As for you, Haldane, I knew when you married a native woman that your judgment and loyalty had gone to hell, and I should have fired you right then. And I’m going to be rid of all of you if it’s the last thing I do.”
“It probably will be, sir,” said Alessandro Li. “The way Darkover is being handled at Central is a matter of very high policy,” but Montray was too angry to listen.
“Then, damn it, maybe I can get transferred out myself— which I’ve been trying to do for seven years!” He turned and strode away; Peter said, numbly, “Good God,” and turned to Jaelle.
“Darling. Go back with Li and Monty, will you? I’ve got to get to him before he gets that request sent through Empire channels or we’re all in the porridge pot. We can appeal, but by that time—”
Monty put a hand on Magda’s arm. “Don’t worry about the Old Man. He’ll calm down. Haven’t you ever seen him in a tantrum before?”
“I was dealing with his tantrums when you were doing entrance examinations for the Service,” Magda said wearily, “but I’ve just dealt with the last one. I meant it, Monty. I resign. And I have to back inside the Guild House by sunrise—”
“I’ll go with you and spend the night in the Guild House,” Jaelle said, but Peter seized her shoulders.
“No, Jaelle! Don’t fight me now, for the love of God! Go back to the Terran Zone and wait; I’ve never needed loyalty so much—what kind of wife are you. anyhow? For my sake, for the baby’s sake—I’m fighting for all of us!”
The baby. I had forgotten. What can I do? I have no choice now. Alessandro Li said, “Let me escort you home, Jaelle,” and she slumped against him. All she wanted was to run through the streets to the Guild House, run home—but it was not her home anymore. Why was she deceiving herself?
Peter had hurried away after the Montrays. She never remembered that walk back through the streets of Thendara, only that they were filled with gaiety, crowds laughing, drinking, dancing, tossing flowers. When she was in her quarters alone, she found small flowers caught in the folds of the imitation dress in which she had danced so gaily.
She found herself thinking, with a bitterness that astonished her, I hope they do send him offworld, I hope I never have to see him again. Never think again of my failure. My failure? No, his; he loves no one, he thinks only of his own ambition and his own work…
She told herself she was not being fair. Her needs and Peter’s had been so different, they had really had no chance; but they had been blinded by passion. She had never known a man before. She had not been prepared for the all-encompassing pull of love—of sex, if she must be perfectly honest with herself. She had been ready for a love affair; and she had not been able to admit that it was no more than that. But they each had needs the other could not meet. He had needed—if he needed anything—a woman content to further his ambition, to be there when he needed her and patiently stand aside when he did not. He was not cruel or heartless; he was a kind and good man But the magical togetherness and blending she imagined had never been there; or it had been there omy a little while and she had imagined that it continued only because she had needed so much to feel it there.
If she had truly loved him, friendship and kindliness and shared goals could have come to take the place of that first blinding passion. They could have accepted this new level of closeness, enough to build a pleasant life together, as even Gabriel and Rohana had done. But Gabriel and Rohana, whose marriage had been arranged, had never been led to expect anything more, and had never been blinded by that first rush of passion. She and Peter had had nothing more, and when that was gone, nothing was left.
Nothing left—except Peter’s child. Poor unwanted child, perhaps it would be better if it was never born. No, it was not unwanted; Peter wanted it. And she really had wanted it too, for a little while. Or perhaps it was her body, ready to exercise its natural function, which had wanted the child. Any child. Not just Peter’s.
Now she could see why Magda and Peter had not stayed together. To Peter a woman was a necessary convenience, a background to his ego. Suddenly she felt sorry for him. He needed women, but he needed them to be all wrapped up in him in a way neither of them could be. She was sorry for the thing in Peter which attracted strong women to take care of him. She supposed it had been happening all his life, but when he had them he must weaken and destroy them because he feared their strength.
It did not matter now. It was over, as this Festival Night was over.
But I am sworn, for the legal term of my employment. Because Peter is false to what he has promised, must I be false too? She had at least known enough not to marry him di catenas. Freemate marriage could be dissolved at will; among the Terrans there were a few legal formalities. She was still responsible for Monty, and for Aleki. And after that disastrous near-meeting with Dom Ann’dra, or Andrew Carr, or whoever he was, who knew what either of them would do? By the Amazon oath she was not liable to any man…
She had been with the Terrans too long. Now the Amazon Oath too seemed too constricting. She had taken the Oath when she was too young to know what it meant. But could she now forswear it because she had outgrown it? That was not the honorable way. Rohana had said, honor is abiding by those oaths even when it is no longer convenient. But Rohana, for her own purposes, would bind her to the greater slavery to Council and Comyn; she could not trust Rohana completely, any more than she could trust the Terrans.
She did not want to wait for Peter to come in. Nor did she care how his confrontation with Coordinator Montray had come out. He had created the problem for himself and must now deal with it as best he could. He was perfectly competent in his own way, he did not need her help, and if she thought that he did, that was just one more symptom of what had gone wrong between them. There was such a deep sadness in her, because all the sweetness had gone awry. But Kindra had always said; there is no use fretting after last winter’s snow. And the love they had shared was further away than that.
Quickly she dressed herself in uniform, checking the small communication device built into the collar. How quickly habits grew! She remembered how she had resented this. She would go down to the cafeteria and find something to eat, then go to Cholayna’s office and try to work out some new arrangement. The Darkovan women who would soon be coming here to work in Medic would live outside the walls, and come here only to work, surely they would let her do the same. Part of her knew she would miss the conveniences of the Terran way of life.
She was fastening the final tab on her collar when she heard Peter’s step. She could see, as he walked in, that he was very drunk. She shivered; once when Kyril was drunk he had tried to molest her and she had had to defend herself. To this day she hated drunkenness. But Peter only flung a surprisingly vicious curse at her.
“Peter, what’s the matter? What did you find out from Montray? Where have you been?”
He looked her straight in the eye. “What the hell do you care?” he said, and pushed past her. She heard the shower running.
Part of her wanted to stay and have it out with him when he was sober. Another part did not care. She said “You’re right, I don’t,” knowing he could not hear her over the running water, and went out.
* * *
Chapter Three
Magda moved slowly through the streets of the Old Town, Cholayna’s words still in her ears; she had promised to wait, to think over her resignation when the older woman could come and talk to her in the Guild House but she wished she had not. She wished she could flee back to the company of her sisters in the Guild House and never return to the Terran world at all. The effort to confront old loyalties again had taken its toll of her.
After the half year free of the conflicts between men and women, even the most casual contacts between the sexes now seemed strange and abnormal to her; she found herself examining the least of them for nuances. Of course,
that was what the housebound time was all about, to break old habits, to examine life rather than living mindlessly by old patterns laid down in childhood.
She had half promised to meet Camilla at the women’s dance… was that where her loyalties now lay? Suddenly she was troubled again. She was a trained scientist, a skilled professional, what was she doing here, after a day spent in using the special skills she had trained for. Was she seriously thinking of giving it all up, going back to obey their silly damn rules, mucking out barns, asking permission to step outside the garden? She thought wearily that if she had a grain of sense she would go back to the HQ, put in for transfer—Montray had threatened her with it anyhow—and get right away from a world she desired and hated and of which she could never be a real part.
Would she really be able to give up the Renunciates? Seriously, now, without worrying about things like stables and bathrooms. She had discovered a kind of solidarity which she had never known, a world of women. If that world was small and petty in many ways, built on denial and restraint, by women who thought themselves free but were bound in a hundred small ways, what life was entirely free? And there were amazing freedoms in that life. In all her twenty-seven years she had never found a world so near to fulfilling all her dreams and needs; could she leave it because it was not perfect?
Who was the Terran philosopher who had written that since no man could be free, that man could be counted fortunate who could find a slavery to his liking? The Comhi’ Letzii, the Sisterhood of the Unbound, had at least chosen for themselves.
As I choose…
And there was Camilla to be considered, too… she had avoided thinking about Camilla, yet Camilla was one of the reasons, she knew, why she now wished to take flight
The Saga of the Renunciates Page 65
