Bradley, Marion Zimmer - Novel 19 (8 page)

 
          
As
she had feared, this revived Dai's major grievance.

 
          
"How
could I, bumping along in the luggage compartment beside the old hag who was
doing the driving?"

 
          
"I'm
sure you saw more of the city than I did," she said, but he was not
mollified. "I didn't come here to look at scenery!" he grumbled,
"No, not a word of it."

 
          
"I
thought not, or you would not be complaining about their having kept us
waiting," she said. Briefly she explained what the Lady Miranda had told
her of the deathwatch on the High Matriarch, and the possibility that whoever
took her position might have a totally different attitude toward the Unity.

 
          
Dal
asked sharply, frowning a little, "What is the attitude of the
Pro-Matriarch—this one, the house where we are staying? What are her feelings
about the Unity?"

 
          
"I
don't know, Dal. The time didn't seem quite right to ask. I should imagine,
from the way the Lady Miranda spoke—she herself said she would like to study on
University—that she is not completely prejudiced against the Unity: but I don't
really know."

 
          
"I
should think that would have been the first thing you would have wanted to
know," said Dal, frowning. "Don't women ever come to grips with
essentials?"

 
          
Now
she was provoked. She said, "I don't know what women do, Dal; I only know
I used my best judgment about what I could and couldn't ask! After all, we are
in a strange society here, and have to find out something of their forms of
courtesy and social restrictions! I did the best I could!"

 
          
"I'm
sure you did," Dal muttered, but it was clear he didn't think that was
good enough. She said, trying to placate him, "I don't know what Vaniya's
political attitudes are, but she was willing to let us use her house as a base
for the study of the Builder ruins, because it was located so near; the Lady
Miranda said that the upper rooms here actually looked down on the ruins."

 
          
She
moved to the window, and drew aside the curtain. They were high up above an
enclosed garden, hedged with greenish-gray shrubbery, brilliant with flowers
and green leaves. Further off lay a long section of shore, with sandy beaches
and a long expanse of slow rolling surf, and a small fishing village, houses
clustered and crouching under a cliff, and one tall building, a kind of
lighthouse or watchtower. It looked quite old, and weathered.

 
          
And
further away still, down the shoreline, lay low hills, and on the nearest of
the hills, something else. A cluster of thick, black, upthrusting shapes,
blackened, squarish; higher than any of the houses of Ariadne, and more
regular; and at this distance, windowless, blank, featureless; strange, in
their unvarying geometry, their curious proportions. They were not like
anything else Cendri had ever seen.

 
          
"Dal,"
she said. "Come here, look at this. Are these the ruins which the Scholar
Dame di Velo called Builder ruins?"

 
          
Dal
came to the window, his muscular hand holding back the pale folds of curtain.
He was silent, staring, and Cendri, watching his face, saw the jawline tighten,
the eyelids twitch.

 
          
At
last he said, his voice muffled, "They are—ruins. More than this I could
not possibly say. The Dame di Velo had seen what she considered evidence, to
convince her that they were what we needed to prove that the Galaxy had
actually been seeded by these people. It would not—not be accurately scientific
even to hazard a guess. But yes, they are the ruins of
Isis
—the ruins we came here to see."

           
Abruptly he turned from the window,
letting the curtain swirl down into place. He strode heavily to the
"Amusement Corner," blundering into one of the light interior screens
as he went and steadying it with an unregarding hand. Why, Cendri wondered,
with firm interior walls and curtains, were the screens here at all, when they
had no function of separating off interior rooms? Or did the women of
Isis
feel that a room simply did not look to
them like a room, or
feel
to them like a room, without the customary
screens? She knew she was focusing on this silly question to hide her anguished
awareness of Dai's pain.

 
          
He
said, his face pressed into the cushions of the "Amusement Corner,"
"And to think I can't—can't get out there and do anything about them,
can't even go out and Jook at them—it's all going to be up to you, Cendri, and
you don't even really care at all, do you? I should never have
come,
I should never have come...."

 
          
She
wanted to weep, to protest; /
do care, Dal,
/
do.
But she knew
the words would be empty on her tongue. Quietly, she turned away from him,
knowing he would never forgive her for having seen him break like this. His
work meant so much more to him than anything else, anything in his life. Next
to his despair,
her own
work seemed suddenly trivial,
meaningless. But the only thing she could give Dal now was a sense of privacy.
Very quietly she went to the far end of the apartment—glad, now, of the
interior screens which divided it into several sections—and started unpacking
their things and stowing them in the spaces provided.

 
          
Hours
later, when the light outside had dimmed somewhat, Cendri heard on the lower
floors of the house a variety of sounds— footsteps, voices, movement and
bustle—and knew that the Pro-Matriach Vaniya had returned. She knew they would
soon be summoned to dine formally with her, so she bathed in the luxurious
bathroom, did up her long fair hair in an elaborate coiffure, and put on a gown
suitable for formal dining on University. Later she would learn, she supposed,
what was proper for such occasions here. But it was not, from what she had
seen, a society where minute differences in dress conveyed many cues about
status. As she smoothed the narrow pleats in her elegant close-fitting dress,
she wondered at that. It had seemed to her reasonable that a society structured
by women would have paid enormous attention to dress. Wasn't that one of
women's special concerns everywhere?

 
          
Dal
had recovered his spirits and was stowing their collection of reference works
and making sure the cameras and recording devices had suffered no harm in the
packing. He seemed busy and self-absorbed; she hated to disturb him, but
finally said, "Dal, shouldn't you get ready?"

 
          
He
shrugged. "What makes you think they'd invite me? Or have you forgotten
I'm only the dog?"

 
          
She
couldn't blame him at all for that. "Let's say I have a hunch, Dal. After
all, they went out of their way to notice you by giving me a room with
an
—" she hesitated, then laughed, a forced laugh, but
she knew they must make a joke of it or it would be unendurable, "an
Amusement Corner."

 
          
He
laughed too, as she had hoped, and came to drop a kiss on the back of her neck.
"It's a bit more elaborate than a dog's bed! If you're good, I may let you
sleep in it with me!" His hands lingered, and Cendri felt an overflowing
relaxation, a lessening of tension. At least he was not blaming her!

 
          
"I
will try to make them realize you are a Scholar in your own right, Dal."

 
          
His
smile was a little sour. "Why bother? Enjoy it while you can. Women are
always saying they don't get enough recognition, there aren't nearly as many
Dames as Master Scholars—this might be your only chance at Scholarly
eminence!"

 
          
That
ruffled her a little; she would have been a Dame by now, had she not taken off
time after her marriage! Then, with humility, Cendri thought; that's what he
means, a man, a serious Scholar, wouldn't have done that. Women just aren't as
serious about Scholarship as men! "Well, Dal, we will simply have to prove
it to them."

 
          
He
laughed, stroking her hair. "We can't upset the whole basis of their
society, darling. Do you think I give the weight of a hydrogen atom to what
they
think of my scholarly credentials?"

 
          
It
felt so good, to have him laughing with her again! And of course Dal was right,
there was no way, and no need, to challenge the basic postulate of the
Matriarchate; but she supposed any young anthropologist in a society which was
wholly irrational, would feel this way! The
daydream; that
she,
single-handed,
could show
them
the error of their
ways, prove a
major influence to bring them into
the
mainstream of
the
Unity
... .
She laughed at herself and turned so that Dal could tie
the ribbons of her sash.

 
          
She
looked at herself in the mirror with satisfaction; no woman of the Matriarchate
could say she had not taken the trouble to honor her hosts! Hostesses, she
amended. Dal, too, was resplendent, with the University decorations which
proclaimed him Scholar and Master, and the insignia of his homework! Pioneer;
he had dressed as if for a Scholar's Banquet, and she was proud of him.

 
          
The
Lady Miranda came for them; after bowing to Cendri, she turned to Dal, with a
shy gesture. "The Scholar Dame, and her Companion,
are
bidden to dine with the Pro-Matriarch this evening, and I am bidden to say to
you that my mother's Companion, Rhu by name, is eager to entertain and find
company and friendship with the Scholar Dame's Companion."

 
          
Thank
God, Cendri said to herself, someone at fast has taken special notice of
Dal,
and
men, at least, can dine with women.' For a time she had wondered if
this society had revived ancient interdining taboos; in some societies men and
women did not eat together, but it was usually because women were considered
unclean, or unfit to join the dominant males; she had been afraid this culture
had simply reversed all cultural taboos!

 
          
Lady
Miranda had taken down her braid, and her long hair flowed down her back; she
wore a loose, waistless gown of pale blue, nearly translucent, which made her
pregnancy very conspicuous. She must
be,
Cendri
thought, very near to term; she looked enormous. Miranda's eyes lingered on Dal
for a few minutes, shyly studying his decorations, and Cendri felt annoyed. Are
the men kept out of sight so much that I'm going to have to worry about women
admiring Dal? Even pregnant, Miranda's pretty enough that if she seriously
tries to get Dai's attention, I ought to worry!

 
          
Downstairs,
in an enormous long room, scattered at low tables and sitting on cushions, many
women, and some children were gathered. There were two or three pre-adolescent
boys, but she saw, at first, no other adult male. Miranda led them through the
clustered small tables, heads turning to watch as they passed, into a small
alcove at the far end, where a man and woman were sitting.

 
          
Cendri's
first thought—is this a polygamous society, is he the husband of all these
women and father of all these children?—was quickly dismissed; the man was very
young, considerably younger than Dal himself. But it was the woman beside him,
rising to her feet to greet them, who drew Cendri's eyes.

 
          
Vaniya,
Pro-Matriarch of Isis/Cinderella, was a woman of middle age, her face lined and
slightly stern. She had the head of a magnificent lioness, framed in a heavy
cloud of thick, frizzy, amber-colored hair. She was tall and strong-looking,
her forehead high, her nose long and arched; her eyes deep-set and flashing
brilliant blue. Her thick body was draped with violet silks, falling in
elaborate folds which did not suit her; but she looked imposing. She raised her
hands and clasped them before her face, in the Unity's greeting.

 
          
Her
voice was a light soprano, which nevertheless was strong enough to be audible
everywhere in the room; the voice of a trained singer or public speaker.

 
          
"It
is a pleasure to welcome the Scholar Dame Molocq from University. In the name
of our High Matriarch Rezali, I make you welcome for yourself, and for the
Scholars you represent."

 
          
Cendri
said, aware that after the trained resonance of Vaniya's voice her own sounded
like a child's, "It is a pleasure and an honor, my Lady."

 
          
The
Pro-Matriarch's face, stern and unsmiling till now, relaxed in a smile. Her
face was unsymmetrical, and when she smiled she looked lopsided and untidy, but
good-natured. "And now I am sure you have had quite enough of formalities,
my dear Scholar Dame. Please sit here beside me." She indicated a large,
soft blue cushion. Awkwardly, Cendri lowered herself. There were societies with
chairs, and there were societies without chairs, and she was glad of her young
and athletic knees. The Pro-Matriarch turned her piercing eyes on Dal, who
raised his hands in the Unity gesture of greeting; after a moment the
Pro-Matriarch returned the gesture and Cendri relaxed.

 
          
"May
I know the name of your Companion, Scholar Dame?"

 
          
Cendri
said firmly "He is the Master Scholar Dallard Malocq."

 
          
Vaniya
raised her shaggy eyebrows. Her complexion was tawny, roughened somewhat with
age.
"Dear me, all that?
What do you call it, my
dear?"

 
          
Cendri
colored with annoyance and dismay. "
Dallard,
or
Dal."

 
          
"Dal."
Her smile was charming and hospitable.
"Rhu, you must entertain Dal for me while I talk seriously with the
Scholar Dame," she said, turning to the young man on the cushion beside
her.

 
          
Women
were moving around the room, setting bowls of fruit and platters of undefinable
substances on the tables, taking their own places. There seemed to be no
servants, or if there were, they sat at table with their betters and were not
distinguished by dress or manner. Lady Miranda took a seat beside Cendri,
saying courteously, "Allow me to serve you, Scholar Dame," and began
to fill her plate with food.

 
          
"I
trust the rooms prepared for you are comfortable, my dear Scholar Dame,"
Vaniya said.

 
          
"Very comfortable indeed; very luxurious."

 
          
"I
hoped you would find them so," Vaniya said. "They are the rooms which
I myself inhabited with my Companion when I was somewhat younger, but such
luxuries, of course, are more suitable for younger women, and I felt it proper
to allot them to the honored guest of the Matriarchate.
And,
to her Companion.
Your Companion is charming and attractive," she
added, "but I find it surprising that you brought no assistant for your
work among us, Scholar Dame."

 
          
Cendri,
feeling Dai's eyes upon her said firmly, "I thought it had been made
clear, my Lady, that my Companion is—" she stumbled over the lie,
"—is my assistant, and that I shall require his company and assistance at
all times in the Ruins."

 
          
"A man, for assistant?
But how
surprising!"

           
"Dal is a Scholar in his own
right," Cendri said. Vaniya's smile was a little uncertain. "One
understands, certainly, that there are male Scholars on University, which is
why we requested the Scholar Dame di Velo for work here. But it did not occur
to us that a woman Scholar would choose a male for assistant at her serious
business!" Now Cendri identified her expression; Vaniya was scandalized.
"Don't you find it—" she actually blushed, "distracting."

 
          
Cendri
thought, helplessly,
Oh
,
damn, this is
ridiculous.' The one thing she must not do was blush, now, or she admitted her
vulnerability to this idiotic cultural and sexual taboo! She bit her lip, hard,
and the pain dispelled the blush she felt rising to her cheeks. Her voice was
level. "Not at all distracting, my Lady; our work is kept apart
from—" she fumbled for a moment; the language of
Isis
had no word for marriage.
"From companionship."

 
          
Miranda
lowered her eyes; Vaniya frowned slightly in puzzlement. "I am not
narrow-minded, I hope; I am not one of those who believes that learning makes a
male somehow unmanly, and on some subjects I can converse with Rhu—" her
eyes dwelt on him, fondly, "almost as with an intelligent woman. But that
is not what I meant, not entirely. You come from a society dominated by men,
Scholar Dame—at least one where the academic prizes are mostly reserved for
men. So it would seem you might well have chosen a fellow woman for the
prestigious post of your assistant, rather than choosing a man who could have
won scholastic honors on his own. I understand how rude it must seem for me to
criticize your choice, and I can well understand that a young woman might well
desire for her Companion to be trained in her own field so that she might have
the pleasure of his attendance on an assignment far from her home world. But
you could have brought a capable woman for assistant, my dear; we would
willingly have extended hospitality to your Companion, simply for your
convenience and—" she smiled, indulgently, "the amusement of your
leisure."

 
          
Miranda
was blushing; she said something almost reproving to her mother in an
undertone. Cendri was debating half a dozen answers, realizing—and the memory
stung—that the Scholar Dame di Velo had chosen a male for her assistant, and
that she, Cendri, had originally intended to accompany Dal in much the same
capacity that Vaniya now indulgently allotted to her "Companion." But
any answer would only satisfy a selfish desire to defend her own customs against
Vaniya's—an ignoble desire for an anthropologist!