Isle of Woman (Geodyssey) Read online

  “Blaze—fire,” he said, making the gesture of rising flames. “Wife— Bunny.” The signal for a woman. “Son—Stone.” The signal for a half-grown man. Was she understanding him? The signs were common across the countryside, but perhaps not known in the city, where many people spoke the same language. “Seed—Stone.” He looked at her, arching one eyebrow in a question. How much of this did she understand?

  “Seed marry Stone?” she asked.

  She did understand! He had not used the word “marry,” and her word was inflected differently, but in the context it was clear enough. He realized that she had understood him more readily than he had assumed, but had waited to commit herself. That made sense, because if she was to be given a choice, she needed to know what he was offering. She had thought at first that he wanted a sex slave for himself, and signaled her aversion to this by returning his fur. Of course he could have bought her and forced her, and she probably would have made only token resistance, if any. She had been hungry and thirsty; he could simply have refused to feed her until she stopped protesting. So she had not truly turned him down; she had merely expressed her preference, when she thought she was being asked. Then he had freed her, and fed her, without making any sexual demand. By such tokens he had satisfied her that he was not trying to deceive her, and did want to know her wish. So now she was talking.

  “My son,” he agreed. “Stone—fourteen.” He showed five, five and four fingers. “I have daughters too, younger.” He made fingers to show their ages. “Seed?”

  For the first time she smiled, briefly. It was like a flash of color as dawn intensified. “Seed is fourteen, also.”

  “Stone works stone,” Blaze said carefully. He brought out his obsidian knife again. “Stone made this.”

  She looked at the knife, and nodded. “Stone is good with his hands.” Her speech organization differed from his, but he was able to pick out the key words: Stone, good, hands. He knew that Seed was doing the same as he gradually elaborated his speech. The trader was right: they spoke the same language, just different forms of it.

  “Very good,” he agreed. “He is a good worker and a gentle man. He would like a beautiful woman like you. He would treat you well. But you would have to work.”

  “Stone wants babies?” She cupped her abdomen with her hands, spread her knees, and made a downward motion, as of squeezing something out.

  “Yes. We value children. We treat them well. We are a family.”

  “I would like to be in that family,” she said. “But I must not.”

  Blaze had thought he was understanding her increasingly well, but now he stumbled. “Seed—wish—no?”

  She looked at him, and he saw tears flowing down her face. “Blaze—Stone wish no.”

  He was baffled. She would like to marry Stone, but thought that neither Blaze nor Stone would want her to? How could she think that, after their dialogue? “Why no?”

  She paused, then wiped away her tears with the back of one wrist. “When you know me,” she said. “How I came here.”

  “Tell me,” he said.

  The telling took some time, but Blaze was hardly aware of its passage.

  He saw Seed in his mind’s eye, as if he were she, fourteen years old and living in the great city.

  It was so exciting, being chosen to compete for the great spring ceremony of fertility. Seed had done her best to win the favor, practicing her walk and her smile and studying her body in her mother’s obsidian mirror. Now it had happened; she was one of the ten finalists. It was an honor to be among them, but still she hoped for more. She wanted to become the Spring Leopardess.

  So did the other nine girls, of course. They ranged in age from eleven to sixteen, and all were pretty, but Seed’s mother had whispered that she was the prettiest. The younger ones were not yet fully developed, Seed’s mother said, so that they looked like children with bumps, and the oldest was too mature, so that her breasts sagged as if weighted by rocks. Seed had to smile at that remark. Of course there were men who liked either type, but the fertility god liked them perfect, neither green nor overripe. Everyone knew that. And Seed, her mother said, was perfect. She had the best face and figure in the city. Seed found that hard to believe, and suspected that her mother was not completely objective, but it was fun to imagine that it was so.

  Seed went to the interview chamber on the appointed morning, and climbed down the ladder to stand on the floor mat. Six of the other girls were already there, and the other three arrived soon after. No one wanted to be late for this occasion, lest she lose the honor by default.

  Then the girls were interrogated by the Priestess Lea, who was splendid in her leopard robe. She asked each if she came here of her own free will, and of course each said yes, and whether she had ever lain with a man, and of course each said no. Sexual experience was great and good, as everyone knew, but for this purpose, virginity was essential.

  When the priestess had satisfied herself about the qualifications of the girls, she proceeded to the really important part. She had them step out of their robes and stand naked before her.

  Seed was not supposed to be interested in the bodies of other girls, and ordinarily she wasn’t, but in this case she was. She had to judge for herself whether she had a chance. So she glanced around surreptitiously, sneaking glances this way and that, while removing her garb, folding it, and setting it carefully on the low shelf by the wall. She saw that though the breasts of the youngest girl were slight, her body was otherwise well formed, and her buttocks were actually rather nice, flexing quaintly as she walked. And though the breasts of the eldest were quite solid, they hardly sagged when she stood deliberately straight and tightened her chest muscles, and were quite impressive. In between were several whose narrow waists accentuated their other qualities, making them seem better proportioned. Three had truly lovely faces, and four had flowing tresses that reached to their thighs and even to their knees. One girl overlapped those groups, with both face and hair. Seed had always been pleased with her even features and fine brown hair that reached to her bottom, but in this company she was by no means outstanding.

  In fact, whatever aspect she studied was better represented by one of the other girls. Seed’s confidence withered like pea vines in a drought. She had been deceiving herself, supposing that she could prevail because of her good body. But she refused to let her nervousness show. She kept her chin high, her belly muscles tight, and her chest half-inflated, so that at least she had no bad weaknesses.

  A girl peeped. Several others turned their heads to look at her, but Seed remembered just in time that lapses in poise were faults, and kept her eyes forward and her expression serene. She knew that Lea was watching all of them, and noting who reacted to what. Still, Seed was horribly curious about what had caused the other girl to peep.

  The priestess walked behind Seed. Suddenly something wedged into her left buttock, low and inside. She was so surprised that she didn’t react at all, not even tensing the afflicted part. What was going on?

  Then she realized that the priestess had poked her with a finger. That was why the other girl had peeped! It was another test of poise, a pretty direct one. Seed had gotten through it mostly by accident.

  “Now form a line and walk,” Lea said.

  Seed fell in behind the eldest girl, and others fell in behind her. They walked around the chamber in a circular path. Seed saw that the girl ahead had a flexure of hip and bottom that was bound to score. She tried not to be too obvious in her emulation of it.

  “That is all,” the priestess said abruptly. “Dress and go home.”

  All? Seed saw that the others were as surprised as she was. But she kept her face composed and walked to her clothing. She suspected that the interrogation was not over, and that they were still being judged. So she dressed efficiently but without undue haste, maintaining her poise. Then she started to walk to the ladder—and paused.

  She was not the first or the last to complete her dressing. Three girls were a
head of her, and one was starting up the ladder. Two were approaching it.

  Seed walked instead to the Priestess Lea. She made a formal little bow, and waited. It was bad form to speak to a priest or priestess; one had to respond when they required it. But one could signal an interest in being addressed.

  “What is it, Seed?” Lea inquired after a moment.

  “Thank you for the interview,” Seed said. “I appreciate being considered.”

  The priestess nodded curtly. Seed turned without further speech and walked to the ladder.

  Then the other girls realized their error. They had been about to depart without paying their concluding respect to the priestess. Fortunately they were able to salvage it; none had actually left before Seed’s action. But Seed had made a coup by being the first to recognize the courtesy.

  She went to the ladder, now being the first to use it. She climbed, evincing no haste, and stepped out on the roof. She did not look back. Decorum, poise, composure throughout—these were the hallmarks of the successful candidate. She hoped.

  She made her way to her own house, in the residential section of the city. The entrance hole was open to the sun so the chamber could air out. She turned and put her feet on the ladder, climbing down into the room.

  “How was it?” her mother asked.

  Now at last Seed was able to relax. “I think I made no mistakes,” she said. “I didn’t look when a girl peeped, and I didn’t peep when the priestess poked me, and I remembered to thank her for the interview. But when we were naked, I knew that anything I have, someone else has better. So I think I won’t be last, but neither will I be first.”

  Her mother bustled her into a less formal dress, questioning her rapidly. At each answer, her mother commented. “Yes, that peep eliminated that one,” she concluded. “She lost her poise. How many did she poke?”

  “I think only two, though maybe others who didn’t peep. But why didn’t she poke us all?”

  “Because she had already eliminated most of them. She poked only the finalists.”

  “But that would mean—”

  “Yes. And you were the first to thank her. That gives you an advantage. I think you won it, Seed.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t have!” Seed protested, flustered in a way that surely would have disqualified her at the interrogation. “I was not outstanding in anything, really.”

  “A woman is not fashioned from a single trait,” her mother reminded her. “If you were second best in everything—”

  “Oh, surely I was in the middle on most things.”

  “But if you were last in nothing, and first in poise and politeness, you could have been first overall. You may be sure she had made her decision by the time she dismissed you. I think you have won.”

  “Why didn’t she tell us, then?”

  “She must consult with the head priest. He could refuse her choice, if he had reason. They are great rivals for power, you know. He might do it just to embarrass her.”

  Seed did not argue further, because it would have been impolite, and because she hoped it was true that she had won.

  Her mother proved to be right, for the next day the priestess announced her selection, and it was Seed. She basked in the applause and envy of the other girls. She did her very best to project a modesty she did not feel. She had won!

  At the appointed time Seed went alone to the shrine wing of the city, where the Priestess Lea instructed her in the protocol of her role.

  “As you know, the bull is our symbol of male potency,” Lea said.

  “Oh, yes, the Great Bull is the god of our city,” Seed agreed brightly, eager to demonstrate how well she had been taught. “He brings us good crops and makes us strong.”

  “Yes. This is why the high priest wears the bull horns during ceremonial occasions. But it is the leopardess who is fertile. His potency counts for nothing if it does not meet her fertility.”

  “And if the potency and fertility do not meet, our crops will fail,” Seed said.

  Lea nodded. “So it is essential that every part of the ceremony be properly performed. I must see that you do your part, or it will reflect on me. I chose you because I believe you are best able to accomplish what I wish.”

  “To make the crops flourish!” Seed said.

  The priestess smiled. “That, too.” She paused, then stared hard at Seed. “You are remarkably poised for your age and experience.”

  “Thank you,” Seed said, trying to prevent the unpoise of a flush of pleasure.

  “You will need it. You must swear not to reveal what I am about to tell you to any person not of the priesthood.”

  She was going to learn secrets! Wonderful! “Oh, yes, I swear. I will tell no one, not even my family.”

  Lea nodded, smiling grimly. “Do you understand the broader aspects of your role?”

  “I will represent the leopard goddess in the ceremony,” Seed said promptly. “I will have my first sexual coupling, with the bull god, represented by the priest, and that mergence will bring the good crops. And if I should get a baby, the next season will be even better.”

  “This is the ceremonial role, yes,” Lea agreed. “Only a virgin may perform it. I was the representative of the goddess, when I first bloomed, and when I got a baby not only were the crops good, I became a priestess. When the head priestess became infirm, I assumed her role. It may be that you will perform similarly.”

  “Oh, I hope so!” Seed said.

  “But the timing must be right.”

  “Time?”

  “This is not known generally, but it is not mere chance that causes a woman to get a baby. She must receive the man’s potency at a certain time. Even then it is not certain, but it is far more likely. We must discover the one day of the month that is right for you. The ceremony shall be scheduled for that day.”

  Seed was amazed at the nature of the secret. Only one day? She had never thought of such a thing.

  “There is more,” Lea said. “This is something you must not say even to one of the priestly persuasion. The gods do not necessarily answer our calls, even when our ceremonies are perfect in every way we can fathom. In fact, it may be that the gods do exactly as they please, regardless of our inducements.”

  Seed was horrified. “But we need the crops! How can the gods ignore our need, if we do our best to please them?”

  “We actually know very little of the ways of the gods,” Lea said seriously. “Perhaps they humiliate us on occasion merely to remind us of their power. But here is where the human aspect comes in. If we arrange a perfect ceremony, and the crop nevertheless fails, what do you suppose will happen?”

  “It could not be a perfect ceremony, if it fails,” Seed said. Then she remembered what the priestess had just told her. “Or—that is what people will say.”

  “Precisely. It will be considered imperfect by definition. So what will happen?”

  “The highest priest or priestess will fix the blame,” Seed said slowly. “The wrong part will be eliminated, and the ceremony done again.”

  “And who will receive the blame?”

  “Why, I don’t know. I—” She broke off, a horrible realization coming.

  “Now you appreciate the risk,” Lea said. “If the high priest makes an error, do you suppose he will proclaim it?”

  “No, he will blame someone else. And that could be me.”

  “That could be you—though you are innocent,” Lea said. “Seed, you are not only a marvelously lovely girl, you are intelligent. That is why I did not want to choose you. But I could not choose a lesser girl, this time; you were too clearly the best.” She shook her head. “How I wish you had jumped and screeched when I goosed you! But you would not be spooked.”

  “But I wanted to be chosen! It is the greatest honor!”

  “Seed, it is not yet too late. You could be disqualified, and so avoid the ceremony.”

  “Disqualified!”

  “There are ways. If you were to be intercepted on your way home, by
an ignorant brute of a man, and raped—”

  “Raped!”

  Lea sighed. “I see you will not be moved.”

  “Of course I will not be moved!” Seed said hotly. “I will fulfill my role in the ceremony, and all will be well!”

  “I hope so,” the priestess said. “It has been well the last three years, and perhaps will be so again.”

  Despite her fervor, Seed found the doubt contagious. “Why do you suspect it will not be well this time?”

  “Because we are in a persistent drought,” the woman answered. “We must have rain, or the crops will be poor. There is no sign that rain will come.”

  “But surely the ceremony—”

  “Only if the gods wish it. And I fear they do not.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the high priest has had the role ten years, and there has been no baby. We can not assure fertility in one year, or in two, but in three or four or five we have normally been successful. He has been too long. I believe that his potency is suspect, and that no girl will conceive by him. I fear that the drought is a sign of the gods’ displeasure. We must replace the high priest—but he refuses to go.”

  Seed worked it out. “I will not get a baby, no matter what, because the bull is not sufficiently potent. And if I do not, and the rain does not come to make the crops grow, then I will be blamed though the fault is not mine.”

  “That is my concern. Seed, you have much to offer. It would be a shame to see you unfairly disgraced. But a lesser disgrace now could free you from that risk. Let a stupid girl replace you, and take that ill chance.”

  “No! I would not—cheat.”

  Lea sighed again. “Spoken like the perfect candidate for priestess. I think I knew you would not renege. But at least I have acquainted you with the risk. At any rate it is not certain; the weather may change, or you may after all get a baby. Either would save you. Now we must ascertain your day, to give you the very best chance.”