Venus of Dreams (27 page)

"Mother, I—"

"Why don't you smile?" Angharad's voice shook. "Why don't you celebrate this news? You should be happy."

Iris pressed her lips together. Angharad wanted her to show her joy, yet at the same time seemed determined to rob her of much of it.

"The signs were always there. God was showing me your destiny, and I refused to see it." Angharad continued in this vein for a bit as Iris listened unhappily. Her mother had never sounded quite like this before; she was speaking as though she were already an old woman facing death instead of a young one with most of her life ahead of her.

"Be happy for her," Chen said during a break in Angharad's mutterings. "I never dreamed this would happen. You're still young, Angharad—you can have another daughter."

Angharad shook her head. "No. My branch of this family line has ended here, and must continue somewhere else. The Counselor will tell me that Lilia is capable of running the farm, and her mother is my cousin, so at least that branch may continue for a time."

Angharad went on, speaking of lines and branches and ancestors in her flat, despairing voice, until Iris could no longer bear it. "Mother!" she cried.

"Don't try to comfort me. You think that, because I have no learning, I can't understand the world. You hid your dreams from me, and yet you think I never hid my thoughts from you. I know that the Plains will change, I've seen it coming these past years. This generation has fewer children, and there'll be fewer in the next. I've seen the signs. I denied them for a long time, but I can't any more. Oh, I thought that at least our line would live on here, that we'd find a way through this, but it isn't so. Some day, this farm will pass into other hands, and your children on that other world will forget me."

"I won't let them forget you," Iris said.

"Oh, Iris, how can they not forget? They won't see what we've built here. Our line will be only a list of names to them." Angharad lifted her eyes and gazed at Chen. "How proud you are. I see it in your eyes, in the way you stand, as if you've been chosen yourself. Beware, Chen. Iris may feel, one day, that you're the one holding her back, and then she'll cast you off too. She'll see you the way she's come to see me."

"It isn't true," Iris said. "Don't say that."

Angharad's lip curled. "You think you know so much. There's still a lot for you to learn. When you have a child of your own, you'll see." Her voice broke. "Pray that he doesn't cut at your heart as you have at mine."

Fifteen

Iris's memories of her labor faded after her son was born. Dimly, she recalled how she had walked the floor of her room, clinging to Angharad's strong arms while the small scanner Letty had brought to the house hummed as it monitored the birth. There had been no reason for the physician herself to be present, no sign that Iris's delivery would be anything but normal, but all of the household's women had been with her to aid the birth. Chen, against his wishes, had been barred from the room. Angharad had not cared what his customs or feelings were in this case; birthing was women's business, and she would not risk a possible curse on her grandchild by having a man present at such a time.

Iris lost the memory of her pain, but remembered her mother catching the child and placing him on her chest while Constance bathed him with warm water in the darkened room before cutting the cord. She had gazed at the tiny, wizened creature with his shock of straight dark hair, thinking hazily of how soon she would have to leave him. She would have some time to nurse him and care for him, but she had wondered if it might have been kinder to leave him immediately; it would only be harder later.

A month after the baby's birth, the priest arrived in Lincoln, making her rounds of the towns in that part of the Plains, and Iris, following her mother's wishes, took her son Benzi to the church to be christened. The priest told Iris about the child she had borne before she had taken her vows; she said nothing about the boy's odd name, which Chen had given to him in honor of an old friend, but she was startled when Iris said he would be known as Benzi Liangharad instead of as Benzi Irises.

"I want him to carry his grandmother's name," Iris said firmly, ignoring the old priest's disapproving eyes. She said nothing about the fact that Benzi would carry his father's name as well. It no longer mattered what anyone thought; she would be leaving.

Before the baptism, Angharad and Wenda had taken Benzi to the edge of the fields to be blessed by a group of the town's Spiritists; not knowing what might befall the boy in the future, Angharad wanted to be sure he would be protected by all the gods. She had prevailed upon a visiting man who followed another of the Plains' faiths to pray for the child; she would have taken Benzi to the Muslims to be circumcised if Chen had not vigorously forbidden it.

Iris had expected the townsfolk to treat her as they treated other young mothers, but few came to her house to praise the healthy baby, or to bring her gifts and offer advice. Those who did seemed too deferential; they rarely gossiped in front of her, or stayed long to talk. She had been chosen; people were uneasy around her. She had brought honor to the town, and the communes were happy to take credit for her accomplishments, praising themselves for having such talent in their midst. They treated her with respect, but they were already withdrawing from one who would no longer be part of their community.

Iris rarely left her son's side that fall. She carried him everywhere in her sling, letting him nestle against her heart. The women in her household murmured approvingly about her devotion, surprised at how little time she wanted to herself.

Her attention to Benzi masked her true thoughts. He was only a small creature demanding nourishment and care; she had formed no emotional bond with the boy. She looked at his small, golden-skinned face and felt nothing; guilt kept her at his side. She wondered if the knowledge of her approaching departure kept her from loving him, or if that feeling would always have been absent. She came to realize that her son meant less to her than her dream.

She had once seen the child as a way to gain what she wanted; now, she wondered if she would ever really care for him and how he would feel if he ever knew how she felt. She bathed him, fed him, rocked him in her arms, and sang to him while she worried that she was planning to do him a great wrong.

Iris awoke. Her eyelids felt gritty. She had hardly slept, even though Angharad had moved Benzi's cradle to her own room a few days ago so that Iris could get more rest. She huddled in her bed, almost unable to move. Benzi had been weaned; Iris had gone through her belongings, packing the few things she would take with her. The day had finally come; she would be leaving.

She threw back her coverings and sat up. Her stomach fluttered as apprehension warred with anticipation. What if she failed at the school? Other students might be better prepared than she. What if the work was too hard for her? She shivered at the thought, which had been plaguing her for a week, ever since the town's New Year's celebration. Angharad, as part of her mayoral duties, had given a short speech about their expectations for the coming year of 539, and had faltered when mentioning that her daughter would then take up a student's obligations; Angharad would be pleased if she failed and had to come home.

She couldn't fail. The Nomarchies would not have chosen her, wasted extra credit on her, and paid the commune for the loss of her labor if she were not ready for a school. She would not allow herself to fail.

She washed quickly, returned to her room to dress, then hurried downstairs. The household had gathered around the long table in the middle of the kitchen, where Sheryl was dishing out oatmeal from a large bowl. Benzi rested in Angharad's arms as she fed him his bottle. Iris felt a pang; the boy would not miss her.

"Let me see," LaDonna called out. Iris held up her arms as she displayed her new green tunic and pants, then thrust out her left arm, showing her identity bracelet. "Are you sure you'll be warm enough in that?"

"I have my coat," Iris replied. "It'll be warmer in Caracas."

"Are you coming home for the next harvest?" Tyree asked.

"I don't know," Iris said. "They'll be giving me a lot of work to do." Angharad lowered her eyes. "I'm sure I'll get some time to visit," Iris added hastily, not sure at all.

She sat down at the table between Lilia and Constance and forced herself to eat as she listened to the household's advice:

"There are thieves in cities. Make sure you don't wander around with anything valuable they can steal."

"Don't stay in the port too long. Someone'll try to sell you something and you'll never see either your credit or what you bought."

"Make sure your door is always locked. Don't ever open it to anyone you don't know."

"Don't talk to strangers. You don't know what they'll want."

"If you want a man, try to find a good Plainsman. You don't know what kinds of habits or sick practices others might have."

"Don't eat any food unless you know what it is and where it came from. Make sure you get plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables, even if they cost you more there. Don't eat any meat unless it's good North American or Argentinian beef—you don't want any of that animal tissue they clone in vats."

"Don't study too hard. It'll unbalance you and drive you mad. If you read too much, you'll strain your eyes and go blind and have to have a cornea transplant or special lenses put in."

Iris was silent as she absorbed the advice of women who had never left Lincoln. Only Julia, who alone knew something of the outside world from experience, said nothing.

She ate hastily, then rose. "I'd better go. The floater's probably already here."

Angharad tried to thrust Benzi at her. "Kiss your son."

Iris shook her head. "Please. That'll just make it harder."

Tears rolled down Angharad's cheeks. "We'll take good care of him," she wailed. "You make sure you send him messages. It doesn't matter what you say, but I want him to see your image, and remember you." She sniffed. "I'd go with you to the floater, but I can't have people see me like this."

"Please. It's all right. It'll be easier for us if you don't come with me. You can all stay." Iris kissed her mother quickly, then hugged Julia, who seemed almost ready to cry herself. Other arms reached for her. At last Iris managed to extricate herself from their embraces. "I have to go. I'll send you a message as soon as I can."

She entered the hall, trailed by LaDonna and her daughter Mira. "I'll look out for Chen when he visits," the dark-haired woman said.

Iris smiled gratefully. "You'd think I was going away forever."

"In a way, you are."

Iris's gray coat was lying on top of her bags. She pulled on her coat, then hoisted the bags to her shoulders, trying to remember if she had forgotten anything. Mira waved at her solemnly as Iris stepped toward the door. The young girl would be almost a woman by the time Iris completed her studies. Iris felt a twinge of guilt. She had taught Mira how to read a few simple sentences before Tyree's mockery and the girl's own lack of aptitude had made Mira give up on trying to learn anything more. Perhaps Iris might have encouraged Mira if she had stayed.

Iris turned away and stepped outside; it was too late to think of that now.

Eric and Laiza were waiting in the street. Laiza had returned that fall, ostensibly for the fall festival, but she had never gone back to Denver. She had been unwilling to talk of her short-lived job, saying only that she had missed Lincoln. Eric took one of the bags from Iris as they began to walk south.

"You make sure you send me messages," Laiza said, even though she rarely had during her own absence.

"I will." Iris glanced at Eric. He seemed sullen; in recent weeks, she had wondered if he might be resenting her departure. "Chen'll be back sometime next month for a bit. Make sure you get him some commissions."

"I already have a few." Eric adjusted the hood of his jacket with his free hand. "We would have come inside before, but I didn't know—"

"You were right not to. Angharad's pretty upset. Maybe you could visit her tonight."

The weather had grown warmer, at least temporarily; the snow was beginning to melt, muddying the road. Faces peered out at the three from the windows of the houses they passed; Iris lifted her head.

The floater was in the elongated bowl of its cradle; the long, silver dirigible cast a shadow over the small group of townspeople standing near it. As Iris crossed the field and came closer to them, a few waved at her; one woman held up her child. "Take a good look, Sarah," the woman said. "She's going to be a student."

Another woman sniffed. "That's all very well, and a credit to us all, but a farmer has nothing to be ashamed of, either."

Daria was standing near Winnie, who was bragging to a couple of men who stood on the floater's ramp stretching their legs. "There she is now!" Winnie cried as she gestured at Iris. "She's the one who's going to that school in Caracas. It just goes to show you. Anyone clever enough can rise, even if she isn't the child of a Linker. We grow more than wheat in Lincoln."

"She always was smart," Daria said, with an edge to her voice. "Used to go off by herself to study." The red-haired girl's smile bore a trace of malice. "Wouldn't tell us what she was doing."

"Silly girl," another woman said. "She needn't have made such a secret thing of that. Who knows? She might even become a Linker herself one day, and that can only help all of us."

"Good-bye, dear," Winnie said, waving one chubby hand. Laiza hugged Iris as Eric clasped her fingers. She freed herself, took her other bag from Eric, and began to walk up the ramp toward the open door above. The two men on the ramp let her pass, then followed her inside.

A tall, thin man was standing in the aisle between the rows of seats. "Iris Angharads?" He pointed with one long finger down the aisle. "Straight down, first door on your left. Seems you get one of the rooms." She hesitated. "Better get settled in. We'll be leaving soon."