The Shore of Women (30 page)

I kept my eyes down. “When you join with the spirit-women, it is taken from your male member. A woman who wants a child…” I swallowed. “The seed enters her body through her female parts. It’s taken from the man and brought to her. It is inserted with a syringe—a device we have—and then a child begins to form inside her.” I could hardly force these words out. “What the spirit-women do allows us to collect your seed.”

“It is from the joining. I had wondered—there was a mystery in this joining, and now…” He was leaning closer to me; I could feel his breath on my face. “But why must it be that way? If seed comes during such a joining, why don’t you come to us yourselves instead of sending spirits? The spirit-women have pleasure with men, as we have with them… why could you not… ?”

I jumped to my feet, disturbed and frightened by this turn in our talk. “There would be no pleasure in it for us,” I cried. “We can find that only with our own kind. We can no longer feel that with a man.”

“Are you saying that once you…”

“I don’t want to speak of this!” I paced by the fire, then spun around. He gazed at me as he picked up the hide.

“You asked me not to grow angry at the truth,” he said. “Now it is you who grow angry at it.”

I moved closer to him. “In ancient times,” I said as calmly as I could, “some women could bring themselves to enjoy a man, but it is no longer so. Men could use that pleasure to enslave women, and often they sought their own enjoyment whether or not the woman was willing. We’re free from that now.”

“Perhaps men were also enslaved by it. You enslave us now with spirit-women in the shrines and enclaves. Even men with strong lusts and willing boys and men to satisfy them can find the Lady’s blessings greater. If we didn’t have the knowledge of the Lady’s pleasures, perhaps we would find more enjoyment with each other and more love. With your magic, you might find a way to take our seed and give us boys without such blessings, but you would rather bend us to your will with that reward.”

He reached up suddenly and seized my wrist. I tried to pull away; he got to his feet. “I cannot wear the circlet now,” he continued, “without the risk of betraying you again. There will be no more spirit-women and their pleasures for me. I have no friends to love. You are all I have left. What am I to do, Birana? I can hold myself back, but I don’t know if I am strong enough to do it forever.”

“You will find friends in time. It may be…”

He pulled me to him. His hand gripped my hair, and my face was against his chest. “It is you I want now,” he said. “You tell me that women can love each other, and I have seen how the spirit-women perform with a man. Would it be so hard for you to show me what you do with another of your kind, and for me to give blessings to you, so that we could share some pleasure?”

“What you ask is impossible!”

He held my head so that I was forced to look up at him. “I saw how you looked at me when I came out of the water. For a moment, in your eyes, I thought I saw your spirit warm toward me a little.”

I tore myself from his grasp and stumbled toward the shrine, huddling against the wall. I could hide nothing from him, not even my fleeting thoughts. Could he have seen something in me I could not acknowledge to myself? I was nearly sick at the thought.

I knew then what I would have to say to protect myself. As he came toward me, I lifted a hand. “Listen to me,” I said. “If you shared any pleasures with me, you would want to join with me all the more. If that happened, if your urge was too strong to control and your seed ever entered me, a child would be created inside me. I’d be ill at first, and then my belly would begin to swell. I would be much more of a burden to you then, because my body would grow large and clumsy. There would be no physician to guide me through the birth; my pain would be greater than any you have ever felt, and it’s likely that both the child and I would die. Even if we lived, you couldn’t care for us, so we would die anyway. I would give birth in agony, and then I would die, for I would have none of the help a mother has in a city. That’s what joining would be for me. The pleasure you long for would mean my death.”

His face was drawn, his gray eyes wide. “Birana…”

“Think of that, and perhaps restraint will be easier for you—that is, if you want me to live.”

“You know that I do. I’ll try to put these thoughts from my mind.” His voice was strained, his eyes unhappy. He turned away and went back to the fire.

I waited for Arvil to tell us when we might ride on, but he seemed content to linger by the shrine, the most peaceful place we had yet found. From the deerskin, using a bone needle and strands of gut, he fashioned a coat for me. With the cat’s fur, he made a short cloak for himself. He led me through the forest bordering the shrine as he gathered plants, showing me how to recognize them and where they might be found; he fished in the stream with his spear, and found a berry bush with ripening fruit.

He asked no more questions, and I grew easier with him during the days; but at night, I felt his eyes watching me and wondered what he might be thinking. We had taken to sleeping inside the shrine, one of us resting while the other kept watch by the door. Sometimes I would awaken and sense him standing near me and hear him sigh.

My bleeding stopped at last. I washed out the last bit of cloth I had worn and put it in my pack with the others, then led each of the horses to the stream to drink.

Arvil was walking Star around the shrine when I motioned to him. “This place has been a kind of refuge for me,” I said, “but we must look for another soon. The horses are growing restless.”

“I wonder if we’ll find a place as peaceful.”

“We must try.”

“We shall leave soon. Now I’ll hunt for the last time in this place. I have seen ducks not far from here.” He took up his bow and arrows and vanished into the wood.

I tethered the horses, practiced with my sling, and then went back into the shrine. Ever since our talk of blessings and what they meant, Arvil had been careful not to come too close to me. He no longer smiled or took my hand for a moment, and I realized that I missed those signs of friendship. Why couldn’t he be my friend without longing for more? I knew the answer to that. It was my kind that had awakened such desires in him.

I heard the door whisper open; Arvil could not be back so soon. Perhaps he had decided not to hunt. I turned, intending to smile and say something kind to him, and met a stranger’s eyes.

I caught my breath and drew my deerskin coat around me. The man’s brown hair was plaited in two long braids; his blue eyes narrowed as he watched me. He wore a loincloth with leather leggings that reached above his knees, and a furry hide covered his shoulders. He did not look pleased at finding me there.

I wanted to run from him, useless as that would have been. I waited as he walked toward the altar.

The stranger set down his small pack and weapons, knelt in front of the image, and bowed his head. I might have run outside, but he could follow, and nothing would prevent him from harming me there.

He finished his prayers and sat back on his heels. I sat down next to the altar, hoping the coat Arvil had made hid my breasts. “A truce while we speak,” I said in my own language.

“There is always peace in Her presence.” He peered at me; I forced myself to gaze at him steadily. “You did not travel here alone.”

“That is so.”

“What are you called, lad?”

I thought of the name Arvil had given me. “Spellweaver,” I replied.

He nudged the spear in front of him with his foot. “I am Narid, and perhaps that is all I should tell you, for I have heard of the horsemen beyond the Ridge in the west who would rid the world of those on foot.”

He did not look like a man who wanted a truce; I could not fight him. If he went outside, he could strike at Arvil when he returned, and if I tried to stop him, I would die as well. He had seen what we possessed and might take it all. I would have to reach a more lasting truce with this man and did not know how I could persuade him to one.

“What you have heard of the horse folk is not true of my band,” I said at last.

“Do you speak truth?”

“Can I lie in the Lady’s presence?”

He frowned as he considered that. “You might shape your words so that you do not utter a lie and yet conceal the truth.”

“I swear this before the Lady.” I pitched my voice as low as it would go. “We do not seek your land. We want only peace with any who live here. I would pledge a truce if you pledge one for yourself and your band, one that would protect us both when we leave this holy place.”

He scowled. “You are only a boy. How can a band be bound by the truce of a boy?”

I had no answer to that.

“Perhaps your horsemen seek new lands, and you are here as scouts. Perhaps I should leave your bodies outside for your band to find, so that they will know this is not their place. You may be willing to pledge peace for now and wait for a battle to come later.”

“If you kill us, others will not rest until your band is dead, until any band in this region is dead. Would you bring that upon yourself from horsemen who do not seek your land and do not wish to act against you?”

He stroked his brown beard as he considered this.

“We have horses,” I continued, “and men on foot are no match for those on horseback.” My terror had made my words harsher than I had intended. “You will only bring death to your band.”

Narid lowered his eyes to my hands; I suddenly wanted to hide them from him. “I see your weakness, lad. Your wrists are thin; your hands are not strong. You cannot fight me.” He reached for his belongings and stood up. “I go outside to await your companions. There cannot be more than two, perhaps only one judging by the signs I see. He will not be expecting attack. Do not think you can warn anyone, for if you set one foot outside, you will surely die. I offer you this, since we are in a holy place. Stay here, under Her protection, and you will live until hunger and thirst force you to leave. I can wait. Perhaps when your friends lie dead, and I have eaten of your food, my spirit will grow more merciful. I might take what you have but leave you your life.”

He backed away, keeping his eyes on me until he reached the door; it opened and then closed behind him.

I put my feet under me and rose. I could reveal myself to him; he would spare us both then. But then there would be another man who could betray me in shrines, or who would tell his band of what he had seen here. Unless I dwelled with them, I could not protect myself, but if I did, I might never reach a refuge.

I walked toward the door, knowing what I would have to do, wondering if I could find the courage for it. Arvil might die if I did not act. It was not only fear of my helplessness without him that drove me, but also the thought of his body lying in the dirt, of the loss of my only friend.

The door slid open. Narid was moving toward the trees to the south, preparing to conceal himself. He spun around and lifted his spear, aiming it, ready to hurl the weapon. “You heard me, lad. You will die when you step from holy ground.”

“Your spear might miss me,” I said, unable to keep my voice from quavering. “Then I will have a chance to strike. But I know you are more able than I, and maybe you’ll take my life. I will be certain that, before I die, I stain this wall with my blood to warn my companion of danger. I will cry out with my last breath, and he will hear, for he has not gone far. You won’t surprise him, and he will hunt you for killing me.”

This man, in order to surprise Arvil, would have to drag my body away and hide the corpse. He would strip off what he could steal from me, and then he would know what I was. The shock of that would make him believe he was cursed. His fears would chase all thoughts of lying in wait for Arvil out of his mind. I thought of my mother then, of how she had died outside a shrine, of how one of her murderers had screamed in despair.

“Don’t be a fool,” Narid said.

I took a breath and stepped from the door, ready to dodge his spear however I could. I knew there would be no chance to reach for my sling before he threw.

He stared at me for a long time, then lowered his spear as he strode toward me. I shrank back as he slapped me on the back with such force that I staggered and almost fell. “You show some bravery, lad. I see what your band must be if it has such boys. I have no wish for a battle with such men.”

My legs were weak with relief, but somehow they carried me inside. Perhaps he had only been testing me; maybe his words had been as empty as mine. We walked toward the altar. “Will your companion grant me a truce?” he asked.

“I swear to you that he will, and that you have nothing to fear from him,” I answered.

“Then I shall swear one to you, and, when I return to my band, I will tell them they are not to harm you as you pass through our land.” We swore our oaths in front of Hecate’s image, and then Narid began to move toward a couch; I realized he was about to put on a circlet. He looked back at me, apparently noticing my apprehension.

“What is it, lad?”

“It is nothing.” He knew me only as a boy called Spellweaver; he could not betray me. I moved away from him and sat down by the door to wait.

Narid said little to me, and I kept my distance from him as I watered the horses and gathered wood. He sat down outside the door, cleaning and sharpening his weapons as he watched. Arvil would, I knew, take care in approaching the shrine, but if he saw me outside, unharmed, he would know I had a truce with the stranger.

He returned in the afternoon with two ducks; he and Narid went inside to pledge their truce. The two were soon talking freely as they plucked the ducks; I carried wood to the fire and breathed on it to set it ablaze.

The evening air was cooler; Narid rubbed his hands as he warmed them by the fire. “I came here from an enclave,” he said. “This is the second time I was called, and yet I have no boy. I pray that there will be one for me before long.”

Narid’s talk, filled with digressions and stories of his band’s exploits, finally revealed that he had traveled for nearly two months to reach an enclave. “So far?” Arvil asked.