Venus of Dreams (24 page)

"He won't say anything. You can tell him we're only trying to follow Chen's customs, that it's just a formality, that it'll be almost as if it never happened." Iris paused. "And bonds can be broken later, or can lapse. They aren't unknown on the Plains in special circumstances—some say that even a few women in Lincoln have had secret bonds. The Counselor will be pleased that we're willing to compromise a little to ease matters for Chen, and nothing else will change." Iris spoke the words without inflection, reciting them as though she had rehearsed the statements.

Angharad could no longer restrain herself. "He's with us! He should abide by our customs!" Her face burned with rage. She would lose control and begin to scream, but even that was better than sinking into the passivity of despair. "How much pain will you bring me before you're done?" She turned from her daughter and focused on Chen. "I should never have let you into this house, you and your ways. Do I have to tell you what a child knows?" She bit her lip, unable to go on. Having only one partner, clinging to one person for years and years, could only lead to perversion. Passion would die; two bondmates, bound by contract, could easily turn to evil practices in their bed to prolong and heighten their love. It made Angharad sick just to think of it.

"I'll drive you out, Chen," she said evenly. "I'll send you from this house and then take Iris to Letty Charlottes. I'd rather see that child aborted than have it born under my roof." Mother of God, she thought wildly, forgive me for saying that.

Iris clutched at the bedpost. "Letty can't do that without my consent, and you'd have to tell the Counselor—"

"Then I'll drive you out too. Have your child and your bond somewhere else. You won't be my daughter then." Angharad's dark thoughts were threatening to overtake her again; she had to drive them away with her anger. "I curse the day I had you! You've shamed our line, and bring nothing but pain."

Chen had drawn near Iris protectively. The girl's face was white, her mouth tight with tension. "Is that what you want?" Iris said quietly. "A scandal? It would destroy you, too, and everything you've worked for here."

Angharad nearly groaned. The air in the room seemed thick; it was hard for her to breathe. Her daughter knew how to call her bluff, how to win; she had learned it early, when Angharad had been forced to give in to her. But Iris still thought that it was only scandal her mother feared, or the loss of her position; even after all this time, she had never seen how much Angharad loved her. She had only tried to do what was best for the girl, to save Iris from the misery and regrets that were sure to come to her if she did not do her part for the farm and her line.

She could no longer fight off the depression that was enveloping her. She herself was to blame for this. She had encouraged her daughter to take Chen as a lover, never imagining that his pleasant face could hide such a vile purpose; she had urged Iris to have a child.

Chen got up and went to her side, kneeling on one leg as he put his hand on the arm of her chair. Angharad forced herself not to recoil. "Angharad, I beg you," he said. "If I'd thought you would turn against Iris this way, I would never have spoken. I care for her too much to cause her such grief."

Angharad lifted an eyebrow, a bit surprised at the uncharacteristic eloquence he was summoning.

"If I had wanted to deceive you," he went on, "I would have said nothing, and found some way to hide all this from you. Is it so evil for a man to care for a woman the way I do, and to want a bond with a child as well? Iris will still be here with you." He looked away as he said that, and his voice was strained; Angharad wondered if he was really being honest. "And bonds don't have to bind people tightly. Iris can be free to love other men." Those words seemed to be causing him even more difficulty. "It would be a bond for only fifteen or twenty years, until our child is grown."

Angharad's eyes narrowed. The two must think that she was a fool. "You're not telling me the truth," she said abruptly as Chen stood up. "You seem to want a bond and not want a bond at the same time. There's something else here, some other reason for asking this." Her mouth twitched. "Exactly why is this bond so important to you?"

Chen was silent. The mattress on the bed whispered, then footsteps padded across the room; a shadow fell across Angharad.

"I want this bond," Iris said. "I want it for my son. Chen will finish his work here, and eventually Earth may send him back to Venus to work on the Project again. If we have no bond, he has no formal tie with my child. If we do, the boy may be able to join him there. The Project honors bonds—in fact, it encourages them." She sighed. "A boy will have to leave Lincoln anyway, in time. I'd rather have him there, doing something important, instead of wandering the Plains."

Iris's green eyes were glassy. Angharad looked away, unable to think of a reply.

"It will do you honor. Mother," Iris continued. "A grandson of yours might take a branch of our family line to another world. Wenda told his fortune already—she said he would wander far."

Could that be? Iris had been born when Venus was in the sky; could this be what that sign had meant? Angharad gazed into Iris's cold green eyes; could this be worth the secret shame of a bond?

"And your line can continue here," Iris said. "I can have another child. Maybe the Counselor will even recommend that you have one—it's still possible. You're young enough. Let me have this bond for my son."

"You're a woman now," Angharad replied. "You know that I can't stop you."

"You can't stop me from doing this, but you can expel me from this house. The other women wouldn't stop you if they found out why."

"And lose what I've worked for? No, daughter. I'm afraid you've won." Angharad's eyes stung; she swallowed, refusing to cry in Chen's presence, knowing how much some men hated tears. "If anyone finds out—"

"They won't find out. I promise you that. I’ll place a call to our Counselor, explain the circumstances and the need for secrecy. You can be a witness, and I'll ask Laiza. She's leaving Lincoln anyway."

Angharad shook her head. "Not Laiza. I can trust LaDonna. She always kept my secrets when we were girls. Anyway, she has two children by one man. She can hardly cast too many stones at you." She looked up. "I have only myself to blame for this. I could have put a stop to your nonsense years ago. Now, it's too late."

"Mother, I—"

"Leave me."

Angharad waited until the door closed before turning to her desk. She rested her head on her arms, but her tears refused to flow.

Some force outside of her had brought these events about. The star at Iris's birth had been a sign; the appearance of Chen, brought from that star to this place, had been another. She had always known that the way of the Plainsfolk would not endure; did God have some other purpose for her descendants? Mary's line had ended with Her Son, and yet Their names lived on.

Her thoughts were too grandiose, but she had always been prey to the sin of pride, as well as to the greater sin of despair. Angharad began to pray, knowing that doubts and dark thoughts would soon claim her once more.

Thirteen

Iris turned off her screen and rubbed her eyes, feeling exhausted. She had been lucky; the Counselor, David Annas, had sounded sympathetic, offering only a short scolding before telling her that her bond with Chen would cause no problem. Their discussion had gone almost too smoothly; she had expected more obstacles. She would have what she wanted, but she felt no joy in the victory, only relief that the struggle was over.

She went to her window. Chen was below, in the courtyard, talking and drinking with Sheryl and LaDonna. He glanced up at her; she nodded and gestured with one hand, signaling that the Counselor would go along with them. Chen smiled as she turned away. He had said that the Counselor would not object; now she wondered how he had been so sure.

Her room was hot and oppressive; she had to get outside. She strode over to her clothes rod and grabbed her coat, then hurried into the hall and down the stairs.

Tyree, carrying Nicky, wandered into the hall as she was pulling on her boots by the door. "Where you going?" the dark-haired boy asked. Nicky began to squirm; Tyree set the cat down.

"I'm going out."

"But it's snowing."

"You should be in bed, Tyree."

"I know, I know. Don't boss me around. You aren't the leader yet."

"Well, at least you won't be around when I am," Iris snapped. Tyree pouted. "You're lucky," she said more gently. "You'll see a lot of new places."

"Bet Chen stays with my mother tonight," Tyree said.

"I hope he does," Iris replied, meaning it.

"He stayed in her room before. She still likes him, you know. You don't have to keep him all to yourself." The boy's eyes narrowed. "You think he's yours."

His gaze was too knowing; she could almost believe that he somehow sensed her plans, even though he could not be aware of them. "Chen's in the courtyard now," she said hastily, "talking to your mother and Sheryl. If he stays with her, that's fine with me." She suddenly longed to forget their approaching pledge.

Nicky rubbed against her legs as the door opened, then jumped back as Tyree picked him up again. Iris went outside and hurried into the street.

The snow swirled, veiling the houses along the road; the lighted windows were beacons in the white mist. Ice crunched under her feet. She walked toward the square, thinking of Wenda's prophecy.

Chen might have given her a chance to leave Lincoln, but he could not force her to do so. She could always break their bond later, whatever it cost. She tugged at her fur hat, pulling it down around her face. Now that she had a chance to get away, she was wondering if she wanted to leave. She had a place here. She would be leader of her commune someday if she settled down, and her actions could affect the lives of others in the town. Her studies might show her ways in which she could help them; within limits, she even had some freedom, for the Nomarchies' Mukhtars were only a distant, outside presence whose lives rarely intersected with those of the townsfolk.

She walked into the square. The tavern's lighted windows gleamed through the falling snow, promising warmth and companionship. Iris lingered near one window for a moment, staring through the glass at the people gathered around the bar; she suddenly envied their thoughtless contentment. A blond man glanced over his shoulder at the window; a familiar pair of blue eyes met hers.

Iris turned away and went on to the town hall. She stood in front of the steps and gazed up at the closed door. Since becoming a woman, she had taken part in the town meetings, and had often grown impatient with the talk of whether a new shop was needed, whose dog might be a menace to children, what new enzyme might be useful as a pesticide, or whose road needed repairs. The most recent discussion had concerned the Muslims' request for the use of the town hall rather than a private home for feasts to celebrate the end of Ramadan, as well as who would host a New Year's party for the town's children. Iris had thought of such matters as insignificant, dreaming of greater things. But the meetings were a sign that Lincoln's life was its own in most respects.

She might be leaving her home for a place where she might lack the power to change anything, even the smallest details of her own life. She might not know what she had lost until she stood on one of Venus's Islands and saw a dark world that might mock her efforts.

The wind sang, gathering strength; by morning, it would howl over the town's rooftops. Iris shivered. Near her, a shadowy shape loomed, growing more distinct as it emerged from the falling snow.

"I thought it was you I saw before," Jon Ellas said. Snowflakes glistened on his hat, caught by the dim lighting around the town hall.

"Hello, Jon."

"I've been here for a week, over at Zandra Jeannines's place."

"I know."

"I was going to come over and see you, but then I figured you'd leave me a message at Zandra's if you were interested. Still doing those lessons?"

"Sometimes." She shrugged. "I've got a lot of other things to do now. I'm pregnant. The baby'll be born in the fall."

"Who's the father? That Chinese guy who's staying in your house?"

She nodded.

"Zandra told me about him. Says he's artsy, carves stuff. Doesn't talk much to anyone, though."

"He's shy," she said.

"But not shy where it counts, huh?" He put his gloved hands on her waist. "I miss you a little." His breath smelled of beer. He had not spoken her name; she wondered if he even recalled what it was.

She took his arm and impulsively led him up the steps. The door opened and they entered the hall, then stopped in front of one door. I'm not a bondmate yet, she thought. "We can use this room," she said. "It's the mayor's office—that's my mother. She won't mind." She had not made her pledge to Chen, and yet she could not even bring Jon back to her room. Chen would not yield to Jon gracefully; he might even provoke a confrontation. She suddenly resented Chen's love, his possessiveness; he might be waiting for her now, in her room, disappointing LaDonna once again. She was bound to Chen already.

Jon was staring at another door. "They lock up the Counselor's room here yet?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Those rooms are being closed up like that everywhere," Jon said. "I don't know. I keep thinking of that story I heard about the Counselor in Spencer. I think they're worried."

Iris froze. She stood in the doorway of the mayor's office, suddenly sure that she knew why Chen had been so confident that he would be sent back to Venus, so certain that David Annas would not object to their bond. He had worked on the Counselor's room; he had been careful to keep others away while he was working. Had he been there to install only a lock? What could the Counselors want to hide? They might have to keep Chen happy, reward him for his silence, and Chen, she thought sadly, might be deceiving her even now. If he could lie about one thing, he could lie about others.

She turned toward Jon as he followed her into the room. "It wouldn't be smart," she murmured, "to voice your suspicions, would it? If you're right, and people find out what you think, you could get into trouble. Even if you're wrong, you could have problems."