Venus of Dreams (25 page)

Jon peered at her. "You haven't heard anything, have you?"

"No, but I don't think anything happened in Spencer. I've learned a lot—I know how to ask the cyberminds questions about different things. If a Counselor had died in Spencer, I would have seen some clue to that fact in the records somewhere, a discrepancy that couldn't be accounted for." She hoped he would believe that story, feeling, without knowing why, that she was somehow protecting Chen.

Jon shrugged out of his coat. "Maybe you're right. I guess if you're so smart, you'd know."

"It's better not to talk about certain things, don't you think?"

"Sometimes it's better not to talk at all." Jon helped her out of her coat, then led her to the couch. She was already regretting her impulse to ask him in here. His blue eyes looked up at her expectantly as he pulled her down to him. He wasn't seeing her at all; she was only another woman to enjoy, one he would forget in time. His hands groped at her pants, pulling them down over her hips. Her body was already responding to his touch, but her mind seemed to be gazing at the encounter from afar.

She thought of Chen. He had infected her with his love; she might always compare other men to him. Chen shared her thoughts and her dreams, as Jon did not and never would.

Jon groaned. She pressed her mouth to his lips, silencing her own thoughts.

Chen and Iris became bondmates at midnight on the first day of February, saying their pledge before the screen, the eye of the cyberminds. LaDonna was solemn as she spoke her name, witnessing the pledge; Angharad's voice was steady, but her brown eyes shone with tears.

The pledge was recorded. Iris locked it away with a code only she and Chen knew; no one in Lincoln would be able to call it up, but it would remain in the cyberminds' memory banks, another bit of data filed away in their circuits until the time Iris might need it.

Angharad and LaDonna left Iris's room without speaking. Iris sat down on her bed, suddenly weak. She and Chen would be bondmates for twenty years, and all of the clauses and provisions she had been careful to add to the contract would not change that fact. Angharad had wailed when she heard the length of time.

"Well, I've done it," Iris said tonelessly as Chen sat down next to her. "I kept thinking I'd back out, but I didn't." She covered her belly with one hand, feeling as though the child she carried was already robbing her of her strength.

He squeezed her arm. "I wish it could have been different," he said. "You should have had a new dress, maybe some flowers. Some women like to carry flowers when they make a pledge. You should have had a new dress and a party afterward."

"There's nothing to celebrate. I'm not doing this just for you—you know that. Once I was pregnant, I couldn't turn back, or I'd be here forever with no chance to get away." She knew that those words would wound him. "I've deceived my mother, lied to everyone else in my commune. Even if we do get what we want, I wonder if anything good will come of it."

"Iris, I love you. I won't let you down."

She stretched out on the bed. He stroked her hair, seeming to sense that she did not want to make love. "You've lied to me too," she murmured. "You're not here just to do normal work. I know it, I can feel it. I can't believe the Counselor would have given us so little trouble unless he and others had some reason to keep you content. There's something you don't want anyone to know."

"There's nothing. You're just upset." His uncertain voice convinced her that he was lying.

"Don't worry, Chen. I won't ask you what it is. There's no reason for me to care about your secrets as long as I get what I want, is there?" She would, after all, have her own secrets to keep from him.

Iris covered her face, wondering how she would endure the coming years.

Fourteen

Iris sat inside the nearly empty town hall, waiting outside the Counselor's door. She had already had two meetings with David Annas, one in the company of her commune. The second meeting, a private one, had been harder. David had asked her questions about her bond with Chen and how she felt about it; she had given him the responses she had rehearsed, hoping that they did not sound too practiced. She was sure that she had convinced him that the bond would not alter her behavior or cause any problem with the commune. She had even gently mocked Chen's insistence on the pledge, saying that she had agreed mostly because she did not want Chen to think that Plainsfolk could not generously adapt to a stranger's ways, and because Chen had wanted the bond with his son.

David had praised her for her thoughtfulness; he had, in fact, seemed almost deferential, but male Counselors often behaved that way with Plainswomen.

The entrance to the town hall opened; a carpet of light fanned out over the floor, then disappeared as the door closed. Peter and Maria walked toward Iris and sat down in the chairs nearest to hers.

"Don't tell me you have an appointment too," the bearded man said. "If I'd known we'd have to wait—"

"You won't have to," Iris replied. "I'm just waiting for Constance and Eric." She paused. "Any news from Laiza?"

"She sent a message this morning," Maria answered. "She'll probably send you a message soon, though I told her not to spend too much of her credit. You should see her room—why, it's hardly more than a closet. You'd think a Linker in Denver would have provided something more."

"It
is
a crowded city," Peter said. "They probably don't have much space."

Maria folded her arms. "She'll get tired of it. She'll be glad to get home then. She's already complaining a little, says it's hard to meet suitable young men. She's afraid to walk around the city for fear she'll get lost, and she can't read a map, so every time she goes out, she hires a hovercar or a guide, and you can imagine how much that costs." Her thin lips curved in a smile. "She'll give it up."

"She might get used to it," Iris murmured.

"She'll give it up." Maria lowered her dark eyes to Iris's abdomen. "She ought to be home, having a child, following your example."

The Counselor's door opened. Eric emerged, followed by Constance and Fatima Miriams. Peter rose, adjusting his long brown jacket; Maria smoothed down her blue tunic over her pants and then poked at a loose, dark hair.

"David says it's all right," Eric burst out, though his smile had already told Iris that. "He said I could go ahead."

"What's this?" Peter asked.

"Eric's going to be a shopkeeper." Constance pointed her chin. "Fatima's taking him on." The blond woman, who had argued with her son when he first mentioned his plans, seemed satisfied now.

"How interesting," Peter said.

"It wasn't my idea," Constance said, glancing at Iris. "But it's what Eric wants, so we'll see."

"I don't know what the world's coming to," Maria muttered. "I've got a daughter gallivanting around Denver and you have a son who's staying home, and then there's this wise one over here, with her lessons."

Peter frowned as he ushered Maria into the Counselor's room; he was, after all, another man who had remained in Lincoln.

Iris followed the others outside. "We'll see what happens with my business now," Fatima Miriams said. "My, my. I'm almost looking forward to this new venture. Still, new businesses can be a problem."

The square was cloaked in late afternoon shadows; patches of grass were already thriving under the spring sun. Townsfolk carrying packages hurried toward the roads that would lead them home; Fatima craned her long neck and watched them through narrowed blue eyes, as if assessing her customers. "When do you want to move in?" she asked Eric.

"I'll come over tomorrow," Eric said, "before you open."

The lanky shopkeeper nodded, then hurried off toward her shop. "We can go to the tavern and celebrate," Eric said. "I'll buy."

"I have to help with supper," Constance replied. She pursed her lips; the hollows in her cheeks deepened.

"Go on, then. We'll be home in a little while."

Constance turned from her son to Iris. "I hope this works out."

"It will," Iris said.

"I don't know. It's not that I mind my son being a shopkeeper, being close to home, but—" She sighed.

Constance walked with them in silence to the tavern, clearly lost in her own thoughts, then left them at the door. The two walked inside. Three visiting men stood at the bar, drinking; two women were gossiping in a booth. Eric and Iris walked toward the back of the room and sat at a table.

"I couldn't have done it without you," Eric said. "I wouldn't have thought of it myself."

"Yes, you would."

"I won't forget it." He got up and went to the bar. Iris rubbed at a ring on the tabletop. All she had done was to propose the idea to Fatima and Eric.

Chen had, during the time he was in Lincoln, interested a few of the townspeople in his artistic pursuits. He had soon attracted a circle of young women with pretensions who had not only wanted to buy his carvings but who had also wanted him to teach them his craft. That had required paper for drawing, pencils and pens, chisels and knives, modeling clay, materials for carving. Fatima, who ran the toy store, had known an opportunity when she saw it and soon began to order the materials; now, the extra business was taking up too much of her time and her daughter's, and she needed help. Iris had thought of Eric, who had been on his way home for a visit; she had grabbed at the chance to help the young man.

She had tried to warn Eric of possible pitfalls. The women might grow tired of their new pursuit when they realized how difficult such crafts were; Eric would have to anticipate that, and steer his customers toward other goods he could provide. He had said he would take that chance, but he had seemed so enthralled by the possibility of realizing his ambition that Iris doubted he had actually heard her warning. Eric had changed during his time away from home; his thin face had grown harder, and he seemed more sullen and resentful, as if great misfortunes had befallen him on his travels.

Eric returned to the table with a beer for himself and a milk-and-fruit drink for Iris, who had been advised by Letty to abstain from alcohol. "David said I could be given a few other jobs to do here," he said as he sat down, "but he seems to think working with Fatima's a good idea. It'll save the Administrators the trouble of sending a man here to do jobs I can handle, and I can make enough to cover whatever Fatima spends on me."

"You can make a profit. You have to sooner or later. You can make more when Chen comes back to visit. He'll do more carvings, and you can sell them too- He won't mind having you make a little from them just to save him the trouble of keeping track of it."

"That wouldn't hurt. But how often will he come here after a while? This isn't his home."

"He'll want to see his son. He isn't like most Plainsmen." Speaking of Chen made her realize how much she missed him. After becoming his bondmate, she had been anxious for him to go, feeling oppressed by his almost constant nightly presence; now she wanted him near. "He said he'd definitely come back when our son's born, and stay for a while. But you mustn't depend on him. He might not always stay in the Plains."

Eric lifted a brow. "You sound like you're not so sure about me now."

"It isn't that," she said hastily. "You have to create a demand for more goods. Order some light sculptures, or holo landscapes—whatever. Tell people how nice they'll look in their houses. Once they start buying, they'll want more. They'll collect them, want different ones for different seasons."

Eric smiled sourly. "It'll cost, and I might not make it back."

"I'll order something from you. I'll put a landscape in the common room where all the neighbors can come to see it, and I'll tell them where I got it. It isn't hard to make people want something new they don't have."

"You're clever, Iris. Maybe you can come into business with me someday. You could keep the records and tell me what to get."

"You'll learn all that for yourself."

"Constance was disappointed that I'm moving in with Fatima and Jehan, even if David said I should. I told her I had to be there anyway, and it would look funny to have a grown son living at home—people might say I'm like Peter." He grimaced. "But you know what they say about Muslims."

Iris laughed uneasily. "You don't believe that," she said. It was rumored that some Muslim women, in keeping with the old tenets of their faith, sometimes made secret pledges to men before sleeping with them and then dissolved the bond when the dalliance ended. "If those stories were true, some man would have told the rest of us by now. Anyway, you can always go to Jehan's room and find out."

Eric sniffed. "Maybe they don't apply it to Catholics." He finished his beer, then went up to the bar again, returning quickly with another beer and a small glass of whiskey. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't talked to Fatima."

"What you were doing, I suppose."

"I hated it. You don't know how much I hated it." He gulped some whiskey, washing it down with beer. Iris watched him apprehensively. She had seen him in the courtyard late at night stretched out next to an empty bottle, barely able to rouse himself enough to stagger off to his room. "I don't know why I couldn't have stayed here in the first place. If I'd been born to a shopkeeper, I could have. If I'd been like Peter, or there weren't enough daughters in the commune—"

"That doesn't matter now. You're here, aren't you?"

"I hated it." His voice rose. "Go here, fix that, stay in a house where some woman you don't want keeps trying to get you in her bed, or in some damn hostel with a bunch of men talking about where they dipped their wicks, just because some Administrator or other tells you to."

"Shush." She looked around the room nervously, but the two women had already left and the men at the bar were absorbed in their own conversation.

"You ought to understand," he said more quietly. "You haven't been doing what people thought you should, either." She looked down guiltily, even though she was sure he could not know about her bond with Chen. "You've never been away. You don't know what it's like, how lonely it can be when it isn't what you want. You don't know how some other people feel. I've talked to men who say we don't need the Mukhtars, that it's time to run things ourselves. And what do we need Linkers and Counselors for, anyway? If we ran into some sort of trouble, the cyberminds could come up with an answer."