The Shore of Women (47 page)

We brought baskets of food, enough for days, to the hut, for during the winter months there were times when the band could not reach the island. The bay, shallower than the rest of the lake, froze during the coldest times. Sometimes men could walk over the ice to the island, but on other days, the ice was too thin, and we often had to pound at the ice and break it to make a path for the boats. Twice the full moon came and went without a ceremony while snowstorms hid the island from view.

I had thought the winter might take the Prayergiver from us, but the old man, frail as he looked, grew no weaker. Others were not as fortunate. One of Tulan’s friends burned with a fever, lost the power to breathe, and died. A man nearly as old as the Prayergiver died quietly in the night. Another man, while fishing by a hole in the ice, fell through it and was claimed by the lake. It was Nallei’s task, and Birana’s, to stand over the bodies and recite holy words, telling the band that the souls of the dead ones were at peace with the Lady. The band accepted this, believing that the two had not used their powers to save the men because their souls would be happier in the next world.

These deaths, along with the fevers and aches that came over many in this season, led me to spend even more time with Wirlan. He shared his lore of herbs and potions that could cool a fevered one or calm the belly of a man who could not hold his food. I learned how to clean wounds, how to bind a broken limb, how to keep an injury from festering. I also learned more of his thoughts.

We had tended Dagelan, one of the hunters, for four days, fearing for his life until his fever broke and we knew he would live. As I left his dwelling with the healer, I said, “The Headman will send me to the island tomorrow. I would have more datura to take to the black-haired Holy One.”

He glanced at me. “Does She drink so much of it now?”

“It eases the aches of the body that holds Her spirit.”

His brown eyes narrowed, and a thoughtful look passed over his thin face. He pulled his hood over his graying hair, then drew me aside. “The Holy Ones share many of our weaknesses,” he murmured.

“It is Their bodies that share them, but Their spirits…”

“I know of bodies. I do not know of spirits. Lirilan and Paslan learn from me of the body but think their chants and spells hasten the healing. I don’t object, for if an ill man believes in such things also, he may be eased; but you, Vilan, are wiser than that.”

We walked toward the lake. Wirlan halted at the edge of the ice and stared out at the island. “Dagelan will grow stronger, not because of spells and prayers, but because he’s young and able to fight his illness. Metlan will die this winter or next, not because the Lady wants him in the next world, but because the few teeth he has left don’t allow him to chew the food he needs. I can share such thoughts with you, and you may become a better healer for seeing this. Paslan and Lirilan would only shake their heads and make signs against evil.”

I had not protested when Wirlan first spoke to me in this way. Although I had hidden my own thoughts from him, my silence as I listened and his knowledge that I kept his words to myself had convinced him that he could be open with me.

“I have been called to the Lady’s side,” he continued, “and not just to share Her holy state but for another reason, years ago. I swore that I would not speak of it, but I shall tell you this. Her spirit has little power over Her body, and I fear that She may grow weaker still.”

“You have told me of this,” I said.

“I have not told you what I will say now. Since She came among us, the faith of others has grown, but I have become more troubled. I see a being not unlike us, and when I think of the enclave now, I imagine other beings with such bodies hiding behind their wall so that we can’t see what they are. I don’t know where a man’s soul goes when he dies, but I do not think it goes there, to the Lady’s realm. Perhaps it is only carried away by the wind and is no more. I have seen many men die and know what has brought their death to them. I have seen no sign of spirits. I have seen no sign of the Lady’s power even though two of Her kind dwell among us.”

“It is said that the Lady tests our faith when we’re tempted to doubt,” I said.

“Why would the Goddess test us in that way, by having us see weakness and by wanting us to believe She is other than what we see? It is what we can see and touch and learn about that makes us wiser and better servants of the Lady. Only a malign spirit would seek to show us one thing and have us deny the evidence of our eyes. But I know of no evil spirits, either—only of the illnesses and pains life brings, and my eyes tell me that the two Holy Ones are subject to the same ills.”

I wanted to tell him of what I had learned from Birana but held back. Even Wirlan might betray me if he knew what was between us, and now I feared that, if he could see some truth, other men would as well.

“I do believe this,” I said at last, “that Their bodies are much like ours. But there may also be power in Them that we cannot see. Because we cannot see a spirit or power, it does not mean that it isn’t present. I’ll never see most of the men of Earth and yet know that they exist.”

Wirlan pressed his thin lips together, clearly disappointed in me.

Whether Yerlan still doubted me, I could not tell. He had wondered at my refusal when others of his men wanted to lie with me, but I was often with Tulan, and it was easy to allow the Headman to believe that I lay with the boy. I asked Yerlan’s advice and listened to his tales while telling him some of those Wanderer had told to me. I hunted with him on warmer days for fresh meat. A bond of a sort began to form between us, and our actions were those of two friends, whatever lay hidden in his heart and in mine.

Perhaps I would have been more wary of Yerlan if I had been enjoying Birana’s body during that season, but the winter had made that impossible. Birana could not urge Nallei to leave the warmth of the hut without risking her companion’s health, and the two of us could not lie on the snow or the frozen ground. When we walked around the island, practiced with our bows, or rode on the horses along the trail, I came to know a calmer joy with her. I had thought my desires would grow. Instead, they grew duller and more distant, as if it were the satisfying of them that fed them. I could be easier with Yerlan then, for I had nothing to conceal.

So the winter passed, that time when men keep close to their camps, live off what they have provided for themselves, and tell stories around the fire. This winter was easier than others I had known, for we had enough food and our dwellings were warm. Wirlan’s potions eased Nallei’s aches, and although there were more strands of silver in her dark hair, her face kept its beauty. I knew some peace, both at Yerlan’s hearth and in my soul.

During the winter, Birana told me more of life in her enclave. She spoke of mothers and daughters and clans of women who were related, and I saw that the enclave had bands of women, although they lived peacefully together. She spoke of how men were called and why the seed of many men was sought, speaking of men and women as the band’s gardeners sometimes talked of their plants. I knew that my seed had been taken and wondered if it now grew inside one of her kind.

There was sadness in her as she spoke of the enclave. At first, I believed this was because she longed for her old comforts and the enclave’s easier ways. But she was saddened also because of the things she would now never know and that the enclave’s magic might have revealed to her.

The enclaves had many strange arts, and one of these was the use of signs by which the women could set down the words they spoke and thought. Not only could they speak to one another through their magic windows and hear the words of one far away, but they could also look at markings and know the thoughts of those long dead. Their legends were tales Birana called history, and it was through their symbols, not just through stories passed by an older woman to a younger one, that they learned of ancient times. As she told me of these symbols, she traced markings in the snow with a stick and said that these signified my name. Then she traced other markings and said that they were her name. I gazed at them in wonder, afraid to sweep them away, as if I might erase us from the world.

Other markings were used to set down numbers, and these were even more mysterious. The women did not use these symbols only to count, but to understand magic that could not be put into words. It was this magic, which Birana called mathematics, that she had been learning before she was sent into my world.

This was what I learned when we spoke—that there was a world in Birana’s mind that grew ever more mysterious as she told me more about it, a world that men had known and mastered and had lost, a world I could never share with her. I had not felt this when my body met hers, but I felt it now, and the pain of knowing it grieved me. She spoke of a time before there was time, and of days when the stars were young. She spoke of dark stars where even the light was held by a mighty power and could not escape to shine upon the earth. She told me of the end of time, when the stars would die as they were drawn together. I listened in wonder, afraid to speak, unwilling to let her see how little I understood.

A day came when tiny green shoots appeared on the land and I smelled the scent of approaching spring. My body was roused again, and Birana came to me in the night while Tulan slept. Her body was new and fresh to me, and yet I knew how to pleasure it now.

Birana grew more skilled with her weapons. During that spring and summer, we often left the camp on our horses to hunt small game or to scavenge what predators had left. On a hillside to the south of the camp, near the top where I could see what lay below, I found a small glade where we could lie together without fear, where our voices could cry out our joy aloud. We sought each other out as much as we dared, knowing that winter would come again.

At other times, I rode out with Tulan. He spoke so often to me of his doings that I did not see that he might be hiding other thoughts. I was at ease with the boy. He had told no one that Birana and I were often by ourselves on the island. I believed myself safe until a day when he revealed that he had seen more than I knew.

We had ridden out to a strawberry patch where fruit was plentiful. Tulan had found the patch before, but it was far from the camp and I decided we would rest there and pick the berries in the morning before our return.

“The Holy Ones will be happy to have fruit,” I said as I lighted our fire, “and there is enough here for many of the men as well.”

Tulan drew up his legs. “You do not need to bring the Holy Ones many gifts. The brown-haired Holy Lady would favor you greatly even if you brought Her nothing.”

I glanced at him. “She favors me no more than others.”

“The others may believe that, but I am the one with you when you guard Her. She often seeks solitude with you.”

I told myself that he could have seen nothing, that I would have heard his movements if he had been near. “The black-haired Lady also seeks solitude with you, Tulan. She knows that Yerlan has some liking for you and that you can speak of him together, but She also enjoys hearing of what you and the boys are learning. She does not often have the chance to speak with a boy.”

“You leave my side in the night,” he said then. “You think I sleep, but sometimes I am awake.” He looked away and covered his face with his dark hair, as though suddenly sorry he had said those words.

I sat very still. “Sometimes I cannot sleep,” I said carefully. “Sometimes the brown-haired Lady is also awake, and we talk where we won’t wake you or Her companion.”

“Then why do you talk only when you think I’m asleep? Does She say words to you that She cannot say to me? Why do I feel you waiting as I lie next to you? Couldn’t you talk to me? Could She not come and speak to you there when I’m awake?”

I wanted to force him to tell me what he suspected but kept calm. “It is only…” I searched for words. “What is it, Tulan? Do you think that She doesn’t welcome your presence? She has a liking for you—you are the one who cares for Her horses. You came here with us, you’ll always have a special place in Her thoughts.”

His mouth twisted. “It is not Her thoughts I care about,” he said softly. His brown cheeks reddened. “I am closer to you than to anyone. Some of the men say you lie with me. You don’t deny it, you let them believe it. Yerlan believes it, too.”

“Do you want me to deny it?” I asked.

“I want you to make it true,” he answered.

I had been blind, so full of thoughts of Birana that I had not seen what was in the boy’s heart. “Tulan,” I said gently, “I do not deny such talk, because men might force themselves on you otherwise. This way, they believe I would protect you. Isn’t that why you allow the band to believe it?”

He shook his head. “I want them to believe it, that you want me, that you will come to me.”

“It is this way,” I said, as I stirred the fire. “I cannot lie with one so young. You must know of such men—Wirlan is another like me—who can only be satisfied with a man close to their own age, instead of with a boy who is weaker and unable to resist.”

“I am not weak and I’m not a small boy any more.” It was so. He was broader in the chest; he had grown taller during the winter, and his voice had deepened a little. “I wait,” he continued, “and you do not lie with me. You lie with no other. You would rather talk to Her than lie with me. Her spell is strong on you.”

“Be careful what you say.”

“I will say it!” he shouted. “I long for the day when She may be taken from us so that you’ll come to me. I look at Her and dream that She will vanish, that She’ll break the spell She has on you.”

I grabbed his wrist. “Those are evil words.”

“They’re true words! Let Her strike me down for it! If I cannot be with you, I don’t care what happens!” He pulled me to him then, pressing his face against my chest as I tried to think of how to reply.

“She would not harm you,” I murmured, “but She will see into your soul. If you harbor such thoughts about the Lady, She will no longer welcome us on Her island, and then we would both be dishonored before Yerlan and the band. Do you want that?”