ARVIL

 

Anger burned inside me. She did not want me near her. During the spring, when I had sought pleasures with her, I had never known if she would welcome me, endure me, or shy away. Bitterness filled me as I remembered all the times I had longed for days alone with her. Now there were too many days when I wanted to strike her or to throw myself upon her and force her to love me again.

I walked on, scarcely seeing where I went, and at last my anger cooled. I too had sought time away from her, had been happy for moments away from her sullen gaze. Perhaps love only thrived when barriers had to be overcome before having it. Perhaps danger had fired our passion and made our times together more precious.

Birana had told me that she was well, yet I wondered. During the winter and spring, I had grown used to the pattern of her cycle, of the times she would bleed and wear the soft skins we had taken from small game. It came to me that she had not bled for some time. I had not spoken of this to her, knowing that she grew shyer when that time came and blushed if I spoke of it. She had not bled, and that could be a sign of illness.

I halted and cursed myself silently. My anger had been so strong that I had not thought of her at all. I had learned healing from Wirlan and had forgotten to be a healer. I should have stayed, tried to find out what might be wrong. She had wanted me to leave. She was trying to hide her illness from me, perhaps hoping it would pass while I was gone. She would have turned to me for help before, would have trusted me.

I had to go back, yet hesitated, surprised at how much I feared what she might say. I could walk on, could still return before evening after seeing more of this land. I climbed to the top of a hill and looked east, then to the south.

Southeast of the hill, at the limits of my vision, a black form fluttered near the ground. I descended the hill and began to run toward this sight. As I neared it, I saw that black birds were feeding on a carcass.

The birds spread their wings and flew away as I approached. Panting for breath, I gazed down at the carcass. A small calf had died. The birds had pecked away much of its meat while flies and tiny worms were now feeding on the rest. I would get no meat from this calf, but my mind was not on food.

An arrow was lodged in what was left of the animal’s shoulder. I blinked, hardly able to believe what I saw, then leaned over and pulled the shaft out. Another arrow lay among the calf’s ribs.

I turned the arrow over in my hands, put it into my quiver, and began to search the ground. The trail, barely visible amid the grass, led south. Someone had shot this creature but had failed to track it here—for what reason I did not know.

Someone lived on this land, perhaps not far from me. I wanted to follow this trail while it was still fresh, find out where it might lead me, and then remembered Birana. This trail might be a long one that would carry me far from her. Better to return to our shelter, to see if she was well enough to travel, to follow this trail together.

 

 

I ran as fast as I could, slowing only when the hill covering our shelter was in sight. Birana sat by the fire, head bowed, hands around a sharpened stick. As I came nearer, I saw that her shoulders were shaking.

She looked up. Tears streaked her face. “Birana,” I said, “I decided I could not leave you alone if you might be ill, and now—I have found something.”

Her eyes gazed at me in despair. I sank down beside her. “Birana, are you still ill? You must tell me so that I can help you.”

“You can’t help me now. I’m pregnant.”

I gaped at her, not sure I understood.

“I’m pregnant!” she shouted. “There’s a child growing inside me now. How can I have a child out here?”

I could not speak for a moment. “But you told me…” I said at last. “You said there were times this could not happen. I’ve been careful. Much of the time I held my seed back so that it wouldn’t enter you. How can this be?”

“It seems we weren’t careful enough.” She dropped the stick. “I was going to abort it while you were gone, stab inside myself with this stick to kill it. I couldn’t do it.”

I reached for her; she pushed me away. “This is what you’ve done to me, and I let you do it.”

“I didn’t mean for this to come to you,” I said. “If I could change it.… Birana, what can we do?”

“I might die if I have this child. I might also die if I abort it.”

I cursed myself for my helplessness, for my love for her. My eyes fell to her belly, and then another feeling came to me, that awe I had felt when I had worshipped her kind. “This child inside you,” I murmured, “it has my seed. It’s inside you and is part of you, but something of me is in it as well.”

Her arm lashed out at me; I took the blow without flinching. “Is that all you can think, that it’s yours? See what you think of it when I’m dead, when you won’t be able to care for the child and it dies as well.”

I seized her by the arms and shook her. “I would see it die to have you live. But if its death would bring death to you…” My hands dropped. “Those in the enclaves bring such children out of themselves and yet do not die.”

“They have physicians—healers.”

“I’ve learned some of the healing arts. Can’t I use them to help you somehow?” I pondered all she had told me. “You said that men and women lived together in ancient times before your kind mastered its magic. They must have known ways to pass through such a time. You must tell me what you know, what will happen inside your body, so that I can help you.”

“I’ve told you what will happen,” she said. “My belly will grow very large. Eventually, it’ll be hard even to walk. I won’t be able to hunt after a while, and you’ll be caring for me alone. The birth will cause great pain, and there’s a chance I won’t be able to deliver the child. Even if I do and manage to survive that, the child may die. It’ll be a helpless, tiny creature for a long time, completely dependent on me, and I’ll be completely dependent on you. You can’t care for us both alone.”

I set down my quiver and took out the arrow I had found. “Perhaps I won’t have to care for you alone. I discovered a dead animal not far from here. This arrow was in the body, and another lay beside it. Do you see what this means? Others live on this land.”

Her face grew paler. “That can’t be true. A band couldn’t live here for long. There are no shrines, no places where men can be called.”

“Here is the arrow,” I replied, “and it is not one of ours. Someone aimed it at that calf but did not track it here. Perhaps those men fear the north or found other meat closer to their camp. Perhaps they have come to this land only for a time, to hunt and then return to their own region. We can follow that beast’s tracks. If we were with a band again, all the men could care for you and that child.”

She shook her head. “How could we possibly explain that to them?” She stood up and paced by the fire. “You know what it was like when we lived with a band. These men may want what I’ve given to you when they learn what I am. I couldn’t bear it.”

“There is something else. You hoped for a refuge once. You said it would have to be here, far from the enclaves, on land where men do not wander. Perhaps this arrow came from such a place.” I wanted to believe this, wanted to give her some hope, however small.

“There’s no such place, Arvil. I’m sure of that now. It’s a story a condemned woman tells herself when there is no other hope.”

“We’ve lived, have we not?” I said softly. “Couldn’t there be others like us?” She clasped her hands together as her eyes widened; I had awakened some hope in her. “We have a summer to seek for those who made this arrow. Wouldn’t it be better to look than to stay here? If we find no one, we cannot be worse off than we are. If they’re men with whom we cannot live safely, we can return here and prepare for the winter. They’ll be too awed by you to stand against you if you wish to leave.”

She folded her arms and stared at the fire.

“We’ll have to go soon, while I can still find the trail,” I said. “This is all I can do for you now. This arrow is a sign we must heed.” I could not let her die and refused to believe that she might.

“Very well,” she whispered. “Anything’s better than staying in this accursed place. We’ll go. We’ll leave now.”

 

 

We scattered the rocks and ashes of our fire. Vines and leaves would hide the entrance to our shelter. We strapped our packs and quivers to our backs, picked up our spears and bows, and began another journey.

I led her to the calf’s body. Drops of blood marked the creature’s path; we followed the trail through the grasslands until it grew too dark to see. I made a shelter with our spears and coats; Birana stretched out on the ground. As I lay next to her, I put my hand on her arm.

“You can do what you like with me,” she said. “You can’t possibly do anything more to me than you already have.”

Shame and guilt filled me. “Do you think I want that now? Do you think I can lie with you and have you hate me for what I’ve done?”

“It might have been better if you had forced yourself on me in the beginning. I would have learned to hate you then, I would have given you as little as possible, and maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Do not say that. You’ll live and this will pass.” I ached to hold her, to comfort her somehow. “If you wish it, I’ll never lie with you again.”

She drew my hand to her belly. “I brought this on myself. I can’t blame you for everything. Even if I had known this would happen, I might still have lain with you.” She sighed. “All my life, before I was expelled, I looked forward to the time when I would have a child. I wanted to be a better mother to it than my mother was to me. I wanted a daughter I could love, who would know her mother loved her. Even now, while I hope this child is never born, I think of when I longed for one.”

“I will help you, Birana. I’ll do everything I can for this child.”

“Even if it lives, what kind of life can it have?”

“It will have what we can give it.” I held her, stroking her hair until she slept.

 

 

The trail led us south and then east. We moved slowly as I searched the ground for signs. The calf had grazed at a clump of grass, had fallen by a pool. We followed the trail for three days; Birana rarely spoke, and when she did, her voice had the flat tone of one without hope.

On the fourth day, I lost the trail but found another sign of men. A place on the rocky ground was marked by charred wood. Someone had camped here, had come this far before turning back. I looked toward the rockier, more forbidding land to the east. “There,” I said, pointing at a bush. “Those branches were broken by someone who passed that way. We may have another trail to follow now.”

We walked on. Although there were many rocks to tread upon, these men had walked over the marshier ground around them, not troubling to hide their tracks. We came to another pool of water, but a brackish smell hung over the pool, and we did not drink.

Birana clutched at her stomach; I wondered if her sickness was upon her again, as it had been during the past days. She had explained that it would pass, that it was only an early sign of the child inside her, but I worried that her body could not feed the child if she did not hold her own food. “We’ll have to find water before long,” she said.

“Those who made these tracks would have needed water as well. They will lead us to it.” I heard a cry above me and looked up. Great white birds flew overhead, birds I had never seen before. This was a new land, unlike any I had seen, and I wondered what it might hold.

We continued east while I noted other signs—a tiny, torn bit of leather, a hole in the ground where a man might have leaned against his spear, wastes where another had relieved himself. They had moved over this land as though they felt no danger from enemies who might follow.

By afternoon, I grew aware of a sound I had not heard before. A distant roar drummed at my ears, a roar that swelled and faded and swelled again, a sound like a mighty wind and yet unlike it.

“What is that?” I asked.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“That sound.”

Birana stiffened. “I think… I’m not sure…”

I bounded over the grassland amid the rocks, drawn by the roar, which grew louder as I ran. Birana hastened after me. We scrambled up other rocks and then before me, rolling toward a shore of sand and rock, was a body of water that seemed to stretch to the ends of the earth.

I let out a cry. The roar drowned out my voice. The blue-green water rose and fell as white waves crashed against the shore.

I ran toward the water, drawn by the sound and the salty smell, and danced as the waves lapped at my feet. I had thought of the lake as vast, yet this body of water dwarfed the lake. There was no end to it.

Bright objects lay scattered on the sand. I picked one up and touched its spirals, marveling at its stripes. “What magic made this?” I shouted above the roar as I turned to Birana.

“No magic,” she cried back. “The sea made it. This is the ocean, Arvil. This is as far east as we can go.” She sank down onto the sand.

I filled my lungs with the air of the sea. Birana’s kind had retreated from this shore. It came to me that only the strongest spirits could live here, ones who could look upon the sea and meet its power with their own courage, for this sea retreated from the shore and then covered it again, pounding against the sand and crushing the treasures that lay there while depositing new ones.

I dropped my belongings, took off my shirt, and lay on the warm sand. The ocean’s sounds surrounded me. I had never seen the ocean before, and yet its rhythmic sound seemed familiar.

“A man could build a great boat,” I said at last, “and move upon this sea.”

“Men did so once.”

“Perhaps they will again. I would do so if I could.” I sat up and gazed to the south. I had lost the trail in the sand, but a black spot marred a white patch of shore. Birana stood up as I got to my feet. “There,” I said. “Another fire. These strangers have gone south.”

Her hand slipped into mine. “We can turn back,” she said. “We have water for only three more days, maybe four, and we can’t drink the sea. If we go on and find no water, we may be unable to turn back by then. We know this route now—we could return another time with more supplies.”

“Is that why you talk of turning back?” I asked. “Or is it that you fear what we may find?” She did not reply. “Birana, they may move their camp in this season. If we leave and return later on, any trail will be harder to find. We might have to roam far to discover where they’ve gone.” I released her hand. “But I must do as you wish. I have brought enough harm to you. I won’t force you on a journey you do not want to make.”

She pressed her lips together, then said, “I suppose we must go on.” She stared down at her belly. “Maybe the effort will cause me to lose this child.”

“Do not say it.” Somehow I felt that her life was now tied to the life within her, that if the child were lost, I would lose her as well.

 

 

The sea was ever-changing. Storm clouds appeared in the east, and I was unable to tell if the storm would reach shore and lash us with its wind or drift away. The ocean’s greenish waters became gray as the sky clouded, then darkened as the waves rose to white peaks. I huddled with Birana by a rock as a storm raged.

Near another place, where a fire had been built, lay the bones of fish. The waves washed other fish ashore, but we ate none of them. We had a little food left, and I did not know these fish well enough to be sure they were safe to eat. I gathered a few of the most beautiful objects the sea gave up to us. The ocean had robbed me of my will. I imagined wandering along the shore endlessly with each day bringing me another treasure, revealing another of the sea’s many aspects.

Birana had shed her shirt. Her skin grew browner, and although she was thinner, her breasts had swelled. I thought of when I had first seen her and of how she had tried to cover herself. I knew her body well, and yet now her form would become something new to me.

We drank as little of our water as we could, but on the fourth day of our journey along the shore, I knew we would have to find more. I retreated from the ocean’s edge to the steeper slopes bordering the beach, then waited for Birana to catch up to me.

“We must leave this shore and search for water,” I said to her. “This sea will steal my soul if we remain.”

She nodded. We climbed up the slope with difficulty, feeling the sand shift under our feet until we came to the top.

I now saw more of the land to the south and knew we had come to water we might drink. Farther ahead, the ocean had formed a bay. Through the rocks on the shore, a wide river fed the sea, flowing under willows with drooping limbs and on through marshland around the shore.

“We’ll have water,” Birana said.

“Those men might have made their camp along that river.” I turned toward her. “Perhaps you should cover yourself.”

She shook her head. “Better that they see what I am.”

We picked up our pace and were soon among the trees. I ran to the riverbank, tasted of the water, and drank from my hands. As I rose, a small object on the ground caught my eye. I bent and picked it up.

“Look at this stone,” I said. “It was part of a tool. A hand shaped this and made the edge sharp. Look here.” I touched a fern. “Someone has cut at this plant, has foraged here not long ago.”

She filled a waterskin, drank, then faced me. “They may be upriver,” she said. Fear flickered in her eyes. “We had better find out what kind of men they are.”

“Wait here. I can go alone, see if it is safe first.”

“No, Arvil. I can’t go back now no matter what lies ahead. I’ll come with you.”

I gripped my spear as we walked up the river. The banks narrowed until the other side was clearly visible. As we crept through underbrush, a voice reached me, a high, light voice like a boy’s.

Near the bank, two foragers clothed only in loincloths stooped over the ground. A hand pulled at a root and tossed it into a leather sack. The foragers stood up, turned toward us, dropped their sacks, and let out wild cries.

Birana gasped. I nearly cried out myself, but my voice caught in my throat. I stared at the pair’s beardless faces and then at their breasts, hardly able to believe what I saw.

Before I could speak, a man lunged from the trees behind them, spear raised. He gaped at Birana. His arm fell.

“We come in peace,” I said slowly. The man looked from Birana to me. One of the women raised her hands to her face. “We mean no harm.” I took a breath and dropped my spear and bow. After a moment, the man cast his spear on the ground.

“We have found your refuge,” I murmured as we walked toward them.

 

 

The three were older than they had seemed from afar. The man’s brown beard was streaked with gray while lines and wrinkles marked the faces of the women. Their bare breasts were pendulous and their bellies sagged.

The man began to speak as we approached. The two women stood behind him and covered their mouths as they peered at us. I had picked up my weapons but set them down once more as the man spoke. I could not make out his words, and although he kept glancing at Birana, his words seemed meant for me.

“We come in peace,” I said again when he fell silent.

He stroked his beard and spoke more slowly. His distorted and slurred words now sounded much like the holy speech, and I was able to make out a few. He was greeting us, offering to guide us to his camp.

“I know your words now,” I said, “but you must say them to us slowly.” He nodded, showing that he understood me.

“We would like to come to your camp,” Birana said. “We have little food left, but if you guide us there, we will share what we have with you.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. He did not move. One of the women was shaking her head.

“My companion and I will come with you,” I said. He nodded again; I wondered why he was able to understand my words and not Birana’s. “Are there others with you?”

“There are others,” he replied.

“Then I’ll put on my shirt,” Birana muttered to me as she reached into her sack. The women giggled as she donned her garment, perhaps wondering why Birana wanted to cover herself.

The man led us along the bank. The women trailed behind, stopping from time to time to gather other plants. “This is a joyous day.” The man spoke carefully, making each word clear. “We have always hoped to see others, and now it has come to pass.” Birana and I slowed to allow the women to catch up to us. He gestured impatiently. “Come. They know the way. Let them do their work.”

The ground was thick with shrubs and flowers. We pushed past the hanging limbs of willows and came to a path through the growth. We walked over a small rise and below, on the riverbank, I saw their camp.

Two dwellings of wood with grassy roofs stood on either side of a clearing where meat was roasting over a fire. A smaller dwelling had been built at the edge of this clearing. I looked at these huts for only a moment. Two men sat by the fire and two other women were feeding the flames with sticks.

“Rejoice!” the man at my side called out. “A man and a woman have traveled to our land.” I could not make out the rest of his words. The men below jumped up as the women dropped their kindling. Two naked young boys ran out from one dwelling. As we walked down to the camp, a third young one emerged from the other dwelling. I saw this child’s limp and then the hairless slit between her legs.

“A little girl,” Birana whispered to me. I caught my breath. Children were here, and these women must have borne them. They had lived. There would be help for Birana.

The men and women gestured, bowed, then surrounded us, laughing and babbling in their slurred speech as they poked at us gently with their hands. We set down our belongings and seated ourselves by the fire. One woman ran into a dwelling and came out with a basket of food.

They grouped themselves around the fire, the two women and the girl at our right, the three men and the two boys at our left. The other two women had reached the camp by then. They set down their sacks and sat next to the girl.

The man who had guided us to the camp struck his chest. “My band welcomes you,” he announced. “I am Tern, leader here. Next to me is Gull, and next to him is the man called Skua.” He did not say the names of the boys, or the women.

“I am called Arvil,” I responded, “and my companion is Birana.”

Tern muttered other words I could not catch, then said, “We will feast while we talk.” The women cut off pieces of roasting meat with stone knives and handed food to the men and to me before taking any for themselves or for Birana. I took out what was left of my dried meat and gave it to Tern.

I glanced at the women, who bowed their heads, refusing to meet my gaze. These women lived among men, yet seemed shy before me. I had already learned something of this camp and its people. The site of the dwellings on lower land and the path that led so clearly to the camp showed that these men and women did not fear attack and seemed to have no enemies.

“Are you alone?” the leader asked. “Or will others follow?”

I wondered how much to admit, but these men and women had welcomed us in peace, had shown no signs of fear or suspicion. “We are alone,” I said.

Tern frowned. “I had hoped there might be others, but we are grateful even for two.”

I reached into my quiver and took out the arrow I had found. “I think this is yours. This arrow guided me here.”

Tern took the arrow from me. “It is mine. We had gone too far from our own land and had to turn back. I hope our prey gave you some meat.”

“It gave its meat only to birds and worms, but that arrow was worth more to me than the meat.”

The man laughed. “You are welcome to dwell here for a time, to remain among us if you wish.”

“You are kind,” I said, surprised by this offer.

“You are needed.” He did not explain what he meant.

Birana was watching the women. One of them had a belly so big that I wondered how she could rise, and then it came to me that she, like Birana, carried a child inside her. Birana had said that her belly would swell; the sight of this woman’s belly terrified me. How large would the child be when it emerged, as large as Hasin had been when I first saw him? That could not be. Was it possible that a woman could live through such an ordeal? Guilt swept through me; I touched Birana’s hand for a moment, fearing for her.

I peered at the women again, then noted that all had the same light brown hair, although that of the older two was growing silver. They held their hands over their mouths in the same way, and their thin, pinched faces and narrow noses were alike. One glanced toward me with her yellowish-brown eyes and drew her hair across her face. I turned back toward the men. They also resembled one another and had the same thin faces.

Birana said, “We would hear of how you came to this place.”

Tern gestured at her. “We did not ask you to speak.”

Birana flushed. “I’ll speak without being asked.”

Tern scowled. “You are not to speak. He will ask the question.”

I frowned, then motioned to Birana as she was about to reply. We did not know this band’s customs. Perhaps they still feared her kind even after living among them. “How did you come here?” I asked.

Tern finished his meat, then set his hands on his knees. “It happened in this way. In the west, there lived a band of men, and out of the west, death came upon them. Many died at the hands of another, larger band, and only two lived. They cursed the spirits that had brought such evil to them, and then they journeyed to one of the citadels where the minions of the one called the Lady rule. There, within sight of the wall, they cursed the Lady and all of the men she holds in thrall, for they believed she had sent the band against them.”

Tern seemed to share their anger as he spoke of the Lady, and I wondered at the words he used in speaking of Her. “Then from that wall,” he continued, “a vision appeared to them, and an aspect of the Lady came out to them.”

This woman, Tern said, had revealed many truths to the two men, who learned from her that the Lady had little power in the lands to the east. From this woman they had also learned of the pleasures they could share with her and of how life could spring from them. From her body, two males and two females had come, and from the bodies of those two females, two males and three females, and from theirs, six more children. These six had come to the river where Tern’s band now lived, although the six had died many seasons ago. Tern sang out the names of all these men and women in a chant until he ended with his own name and those of his men.

“We live here now,” Tern said, “and although we were blessed in the past, we have known sorrow these past seasons. These three, and the one Hyacinth carries inside herself, are our only children. Another was born not long ago, but it did not live. One was born two summers ago, but so monstrously shaped that it could not be allowed to live.” He waved a hand at the little girl. “The child called Lily has a limp and also an affliction that makes her shake like a leaf in the wind—it was always so with her from the time she entered the world.” The child lowered her eyes. “I thought that the Lady had somehow reached out to curse us, but now that you are here, perhaps it is a sign that new ones will be born among us.”

His words filled me with horror. I had never known of a boy who did not leave an enclave fit and strong—his only defects of body would be those brought by illness, injury, or age. Birana had told me her kind made certain that their children were born strong and healthy. What would happen to her child here, away from her enclave’s magic? Would it also be afflicted? I tried to steady myself. The two boys seemed fit enough, and the girl had lived.

Birana’s face was white. “I thank you for telling me this story,” I said. “I too have tales to tell, but I would speak to my companion for a moment.”

Tern nodded. “Perhaps you do not wish to share our burdens. I cannot force you to stay but will tell you this—in all my life, I have seen no others except those here and the ones who brought us into the world. You will find no one else in this land.”

I took Birana’s arm and led her down to the riverbank. We were still within sight of the group but could speak softly in the lake tongue. “These afflictions Tern spoke of,” I murmured. “Could such things befall the child inside you?”

She drew her brows together. “I don’t know. I keep telling myself that your strain and mine are healthy ones, but I can’t be certain of what traits my child might carry. I can’t use gene-scanning techniques out here, can’t repair defective genes.” She went on in this way, using other words in her own tongue I did not know. “I don’t even know if I’ll have a boy or a girl, and there’s a chance the birth itself might cause some injury.”

“Is that what has happened here? Did afflictions come upon their young ones because of that?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure, but they’re all descendants of the same mother, and they’ve been inbreeding ever since. It means more of a chance for defects to show up in their children, and there’s no way to prevent that out here. They’re all related. That’s why they look alike. Their gene pool is too small.” She used other words then, both in the lake language and her own speech, and at last I understood that there was an illness of some sort in the seed of these men and women that had weakened their children.

“Is there a way to heal them?” I asked.

“Not here. No wonder they’re so happy to see us, although they don’t know why. We mean new genes.” She sighed. “What kind of refuge is this? It might be better to force my child from me now.”

“No, Birana. These women have had their children and have lived. They must know how to help you, and this band has welcomed us peacefully. We would be safe.” I looked up at Tern’s band. The men stroked their beards as they watched us. The women smiled.

“And what kind of life will we have? What kind of life would the child have if it lives?”

“You wanted a refuge. You have found it—a place where men live with women. There is nowhere left for us to go. We must stay for a time at least, until…” I took her hand. “I curse myself for what I have brought upon you. A time may come when we can seek out other lands, but we must stay in this camp for now.”

“You’re right. I suppose I should be grateful even to have found this much.”

I wanted to hold her, comfort her somehow. We walked back to the fire; Tern gazed up at me hopefully. “Birana and I have decided,” I said, “but there is a question I would ask. Children have come to you. Can these women aid another when a child comes from her?”

The women giggled. “We aid one another,” one of the older women replied. “We know of birthing.”

Tern glared at her; she lowered her head. “That is women’s business,” he said. “Why do you ask this, Arvil?”

“I ask it because Birana carries a child inside her now.” I paused. “If she can be helped, we will stay with you.”

Tern jumped to his feet. Joy glowed in the faces of the others. “We are truly blessed,” he shouted as he grasped my shoulders. “Welcome, friend.”

 

 

We feasted with the band that afternoon. Although Tern asked me about my travels, I told him only that Birana had appeared to me in a shrine, that we had traveled and found shelter with bands of men before finding our way to the sea. Tern and his men seemed satisfied with that and showed little curiosity about what lay west. Their land was here, and other regions were only places of danger, lands where men raised their hands against other men and where the minions of the Lady ruled. No awe of the Lady lived in the souls of these men, who gestured angrily whenever I spoke Her name.

In the evening, the women carried off what was left of the feast. I rose to help them, but Tern motioned to me to sit. One of the women came to Birana and then said, “You will come with me to our house.”

Birana walked toward the dwelling. I was about to follow when Tern touched my arm. “She will live with the women. You will dwell in our house.”

“We have spent our nights together at the same hearth.”

“When you wish a night with her, you may join her there.” The leader pointed at the small hut near the trees. “And if you wish one of the others…”

The other men grinned. I was wary, unsure of their customs. Birana disappeared inside the women’s dwelling. “I am content with Birana,” I said.

Skua chuckled while the two boys dug their elbows into each other’s sides. “Your seed grows in her now,” Skua said. “Should it also take root in another, it can only mean new life for our band.”

I wondered what the women would say to that but held my tongue. “There is a story I didn’t tell you before,” Tern said in a low voice. By now, I was more used to his speech even when he spoke more rapidly. He glanced at the women’s dwelling, then leaned closer. “You are not the first stranger who has come here. Some time ago, when I was a boy no older than young Pelican here, a man was found not far from this camp. He was injured, but those who found him carried him back here in the hope that he might live and provide his seed. He died not long after of his wound, and although the band grieved, perhaps it was just as well. You see, he was still under the Lady’s power. When he saw the women in this camp, he spoke strange words to them, addressed them as beings who were set here to rule over him. Such things are not good for women to hear.”

My neck prickled. “So men are taught in other places,” I said. “The Lady has great power.”

“But we know the truth. We learned it long ago. The minions of the Lady cloak their weakness with guile and magic; but, stripped of it, they are no more than we. You must also have learned this truth from your companion.”

“Birana has told me some truths,” I admitted.

“And you have lain with her and know that a child is in her, so you know her true nature. You must have come from a place where the Lady rules over men or she could not have shown herself to you, but you’ve seen the truth now. You know that what you once believed is a lie, but though you do not bow before the woman you led here, there is awe in you still. You hover over her. You allow her to speak when she should be silent.”

My anger nearly burst from me. “I am her friend,” I said steadily, “as she is mine. She doesn’t rule me and I do not rule her. It is not my place to command her.”

“It is your place,” Gull muttered. “That is the rest of the truth we have learned, the truth the Lady’s minions hide—that it was men who once ruled over her.”

I could no longer control myself. “That is so,” I answered, “and you must also know what came of it—a time of trouble and devastation. I care nothing for who ruled then or who rules now. Birana is my friend, and I will treat her as my friend.”

Tern scowled. “You say you will live among us. You will follow our ways. What will our women think if they see that your companion has power over you? You would make trouble for us.”

I took a breath. I wanted to rise and take Birana from that camp, but even if they let us go, I would only be taking her from those who could help her.

“I shall do my best to abide by your customs,” I said, “and Birana will do the same, but what passes between us when we are alone is our concern. I will treat her kindly. She carries a child. You say your band needs new young ones. You must let us live how we will.”

Tern glanced at the others, but there was little he could say to that. At last he stood up and led me to his dwelling.

 

 

I wanted to speak to Birana alone the next day, but the three men had decided to go on a hunt, and I was to hunt with them. I asked if any of the women would come with us.

Gull shook his head. “Women do not hunt.”

“Birana has hunted with me.”

“Women do not hunt,” he insisted. “She carries a child—she should not hunt. When the young ones are small, the women must carry them or keep them close, so it is their work to gather plants and tend the camp. They will smoke or cook what game we bring back.”

It appeared that the women had spoken to Birana about their ways, for as we gathered around the fire for our morning meal, Birana kept her eyes lowered as she helped the women fetch food. I took the food she brought to me, then saw her tightened mouth and the anger in her eyes. “When we are alone,” I murmured quickly in the lake speech, “things will be as they were. I don’t want you to bow to me then.” Her mouth softened a little.

The men, I learned during the days that followed, were companionable enough among themselves, but in the camp with the women, they wore stern faces as they ordered the women about or waited to be served. Hyacinth was carrying Gull’s child, yet he often forced her to stand beside him while he ate, weary as she was from her work and the weight of her belly. Willow, the other young woman, was expected to comb Skua’s hair and beard with the spine of a fish, although he could have groomed himself. Cress and Violet, the older women, dragged heavy loads of wood into the camp, sometimes helped by the boys, Egret and Pelican, but never by the men.

The women gathered plants, fished in the river, went down to the seashore to look for fish and shells, laid away food for the winter, and kept the camp clean. The men hunted, made tools, garments and weapons, and patched the huts. There was work enough for all, but the men accepted the labor of the women as their due while expecting the women to be grateful for what the men provided.

Whenever one of the men wanted to lie with a woman at night, he made a quick gesture toward his groin with his hand and the woman followed him to the small hut. The women gave no sign that they sought this joining or welcomed it, and I never saw one beckon to a man. I soon saw that Gull always lay with Hyacinth, in spite of her large belly, while Skua went to Willow and Tern summoned either Cress or Violet.

It was Tern who explained that each woman could lie with only one man, but that if enough time had passed without his seed taking root inside her, another man could summon her for a while. This was, he told me, so that each man would know where his seed had grown. Thus Tern knew that Pelican, born of Cress, carried Tern’s own seed, while Egret, born of Violet, was Skua’s child.

“Skua has lain with Willow for some time,” Tern told me, “but nothing has come of it.” He shook his head. “Another man will have to try her soon. Egret will be old enough before long.”

“You could try your luck.” I found the words distasteful but was trying to banter with him as the other men did.

Tern was shocked. “That cannot be. My seed gave her life in Cress’s body.” A man, it seemed, could not lie with a woman born of his seed or with a woman who had carried him inside herself. A man could lie with a woman born of the same mother or with one who shared the same father, but only after both had lain with others.

“You see why you are needed,” he said. “Let us hope that others are born to you and Birana.”

I did not reply. To have her endure this ordeal once was painful enough. I could not let her suffer it again. I had wanted to bring her to safety; now I worried about what this band might do to her spirit.

 

 

Several days after I had come to the camp, I went to the women’s house and called out to them. Cress came to the entrance and peered out at me.

“I want to see the child Lily,” I said.

“Forgive me for asking this, but what can you want with her?”

“I have learned some healing lore from another man. Perhaps I can help her somehow.”

Cress shook back her graying hair. “There is nothing you can do,” she said, but led me into the hut. Lily sat by the hearthstones weaving a basket of reeds. A tremor passed over her; she dropped the basket as her hands fluttered.

“The man Arvil wishes to see you.” Cress glanced at me suspiciously. “I humbly ask you to be quick about whatever you wish to do. I must gather more wood before dark comes but will not leave her alone with you.”

I sighed. “I mean her no harm.”

“Forgive me for saying this, but I have known men to become roused by young ones not much older, even when they know they cannot be summoned and are too young to bear children. I would ask you if I can wait here.”

“You may wait,” I answered.

She beckoned to the girl, then sat down next to me. Her gold- brown eyes gazed at me directly as I passed my hands over Lily’s small body. Except for the cleft between her legs, her body was like a boy’s.

“It is hard for her to be the only girl-child here,” Cress said. “Already Egret and Pelican try to fondle her.”

“If you made her garments so that she could cover herself, perhaps she would not rouse them.”

The woman shrugged. “When the weather is warm, it is easier for them to run naked. We shall put on garments soon enough. The men don’t like it when the weather grows cold.” She tugged at her loincloth. “They would rather see our bodies and display their own. You should tell Birana that she need not wear so many garments in this season.”

“You should think of your own wants sometime, and not only those of the men.”

Cress pursed her lips. “Birana said that you were not a man like others. You are more different than I thought.”

Lily shuddered again. The tremor passed. “How long has she trembled?” I asked.

“I saw it not long after she was born. She has always been thus. Hyacinth has borne much sorrow—first Lily and then a child who had to die.” She made a sign. “I pray that her next child will be unmarked.”

I felt Lily’s hip. “This hip is not set like the other,” I said. “That’s why she limps. It is as if her leg bone was pulled from its socket.”

“It was hard for her to walk at first. She would fall.”

“Someone injured her. How did it happen?”

Cress was silent.

“Do you know? Can you tell me?”

Cress lowered her eyes. “You must tell me,” I said in the commanding tone the men used.

“When she was born, her foot came through the passage first. I had to pull her out, there was no other way.”

“Tell me more of this, Cress.”

She threw up her hands. “I cannot! You’re a man. I cannot speak of these things to you.”

I patted Lily on the arm and then released her. She crept back to the hearth and sat down, bowing her head. “Then think of me as a healer and not as a man,” I said. “Birana will have a child. I must know that she will be helped and not harmed.”

Cress pulled her hair across her face. “It’s the head of a child that should come through the passage first, but that did not happen with Hyacinth. I did what I could. I did not want to injure the child, but this was all I could do. I swear to you that I’ll do my best to keep Birana’s child from harm.”

“Do what you can for Birana,” I whispered. “If she is harmed, I won’t care about the child.”

Cress cleared her throat. “There is a strong feeling in you for her. It cannot be only your man’s need.” She got to her feet. “You’re an odd man, Arvil. There is a man’s strength in you, and yet you are unlike the others. You listen to my words even when I do not ask permission to speak them. You scrape the hairs from your face even though it is only women and children who have hairless faces.” She shook her head. “And Lily? Can you bring any healing to her?”

“I can do nothing,” I said bitterly. “I cannot force her leg into its proper place without risking more injury to her. I don’t know what causes her to tremble. The man who taught me healing was wise, but even he could have done nothing. I am sorry.”

“May I leave you now? I must gather wood.”

I nodded. She picked up a long leather sling and left the hut.

“I am sorry,” I said to Lily. “I would give you herbs or a root to see if that might stop your trembling, but such potions might make it worse. Often it is best for a healer not to act when he doesn’t know an ailment’s cause. Perhaps it is an illness that will heal itself in time. You are brave to face it without complaint.”

She glanced at me from the sides of her eyes, then picked up her reeds. I went outside. Birana was walking into the clearing with a small sack of plants she had gathered. All my fears for her suddenly welled up inside me.

I motioned to her. “I must be alone with you,” I said in the lake tongue. “Will you come with me to the small hut tonight? I’ll make the sign in front of the other men, but we do not have to share pleasures—your company will be enough.”

She set down her sack. “You don’t have to ask.” Her mouth twisted. “The other men need only make the sign, it seems.”

“I shall always ask. I won’t make that sign unless you wish to come with me.”

She smiled, but her eyes were still sad. “I’ll go to the hut with you, then.”

 

 

By evening, my desire for her had grown, but the sight of the men grinning and winking as I made the sign nearly robbed me of my longing. We walked together to the hut. Tern whispered to Skua, who laughed.

We entered; I picked up a hide and laid it over the mat on the ground. “Do you want a fire?” I asked.

Birana shook her head. “It’s warm enough without one. Anyway, the men would expect me to fetch the wood here for it.”

“Birana, you will do as you wish when you’re with me.”

She stretched out on the hide. I meant only to hold her, but my hands reached under her shirt as my lips met hers. I wanted her, then remembered what my past pleasures would force her to endure.

I released her. “I cannot,” I whispered. “I fear what may happen to you. I looked at Lily today. Cress told me how she entered the world, and now I fear even more for you.” I paused. “I can do nothing for the girl.”

“She has a palsy of some kind. I had thought such things were gone from the world, but here…” She turned her head toward me. “The women will help me, Arvil, and I’ve always been strong. You mustn’t worry. It may be easier for me than it was for any of them.” I felt she was saying this only to soothe me.

“It isn’t right for the men to treat them as they do.”

She sighed. “They don’t know anything else.” She went on to speak of stories the women told among themselves, although not to the men.

The women lived in the hope that others of their kind would someday come to the camp and restore their magic to them. They took Birana’s presence as a sign that this might happen soon. They accepted the labor that they did, met the demands of the men, and told themselves that their ability to bear children showed their greater power. They knew nothing of the cities except that others of their kind lived there and that their Goddess was to be feared. The men might say bitter words about the regions the Lady ruled, but the women, in secret, occasionally prayed to Her.

“What have you told them about yourself?” I asked.

“Only that I was sent out of a city. They don’t know why. They want so desperately to believe I was sent here to help them, that others will come too. I don’t know how to tell them it isn’t so. They have so little to hope for.” She reached for my hand. “You mustn’t tell that to the men, though.”

“I understand.” I wondered what other secrets the women kept from the men. “Wouldn’t an enclave help these women if…”

“Women who live with men as they do? I don’t know. Such women aren’t supposed to exist. Now they’re harboring me. They’d probably die simply for that.”

Her voice was so despairing that I searched for a way to cheer her. “Tomorrow,” I said, “I shall leave this camp with my spear and your arrows and bow. Meet me and we’ll hunt together again. We don’t have to say anything about it to the band.”

“The women wouldn’t say anything about it anyway, although they’d probably scold me for it. I can’t go. They’ll expect me to do my own work.”

“You will hunt with me, and I’ll forage with you.” I held her close to me until we slept.

 

 

We hunted together only a few times that summer. Birana seemed strong, but as her belly began to swell, she grew more listless. At first, she risked the anger of the men by glaring at them when one ordered her about or by speaking without asking permission. Soon, she was doing her work without protest. I remembered how proud and brave she had been and despaired.

We had to work to lay aside enough provisions for the winter to come. The men had described the winter of this land to me. It would not be as harsh as some I had endured, but as the summer drew to an end, a sharp wind often blew through the camp from the sea.

At night, when the camp was quiet, I sometimes sensed the distant roar of the sea. I welcomed the sound, which called to my soul. Sometimes, I would leave the camp and sit alone on the shore with my thoughts, marking the movement of the water as it crept up the sand.

A day came at the end of the summer when the women went to the sea to dig for clams in the wet sand. I had watched them at this work before, but they would not let me help and seemed to want this time away from men. I followed but sat on the hill above the beach to watch. The band had come to the shore often, had built a fire, and dug a pit in which to steam the clams along with salty wet seaweed, but the weather would soon be too cold for this work. All of the women wore shirts and leggings now. Hyacinth’s shirt was tight over her belly and Birana’s would soon be too small for her.

They laughed and chattered as they dug for the food. I had brought a hide with me and worked at the leather with my stone, happy to see the women in this easier mood; I recalled a dream of women beckoning to me from another shore. They picked up their burdens of shells and began to climb toward me, all except Willow, who was putting her clams into her sack. They smiled as they passed me; Birana was about to speak, and then her eyes grew distant and cold.

I turned. Skua was behind me, approaching the shore. The women passed him silently. He came to my side, stared at Willow for a moment, then scrambled down the sandy slope toward her.

He strode up to her. I expected him to help her with her sack, unlikely as that was. He was speaking, although I could not hear his words. She backed away, shaking her head. Skua seized her arm. She tore herself away from him. He leaped after her and threw her face down on the sand, then pulled at her leggings and loincloth. She scrambled to her knees as he tugged at his own loincloth. He pulled her toward him by her hips and entered her, thrusting against her as she clawed at the sand.

I jumped to my feet. The woman had given no sign that she wanted this and many signs that she did not. I hastened toward them, but even as I pitied Willow, I could not take my eyes from this coupling. Something in me was roused by this sight, however I fought against it.

Skua finished, stood up to adjust his loincloth, and caught sight of me. I thought he would be angry, but instead he beckoned to me. Willow curled up on the sand, weeping; the marks of his fingers were on her hips.

“You have hurt her,” I said. I held out my hand, but Willow shook her head and covered her face with her hair. I wanted to comfort her but had only shamed her by witnessing this act.

Skua shrugged. “She is often thus. Perhaps a child will come of it this time.” He narrowed his eyes. “If she doesn’t grow a child soon and yours is born without flaw, perhaps you should try her.”

I recoiled at his words, which he said as though Willow were not with us. “I shall see what Willow wishes,” I replied.

“She has nothing to say about it.”

“I seek no pleasures with one who is unwilling.”

“You had better learn what you are and what a woman is.” Skua lowered his eyes. “You do not say it, but I see that she has roused you.”

He had seen what I could not admit, for my member had grown stiff. The sound of his laughter followed me as I stumbled away.

An evil had entered me. I could not put what I had seen from my mind; I had been without pleasures for too long. I walked on toward the camp, struggling with my thoughts, aching to feel a woman around me.

In the camp that night, I made the signal the men used to Birana. I had never done this before without knowing earlier that she wanted to be with me. Her lips tightened as I gestured. The men had seen me make the sign, and she could not refuse me.

She spun around and walked toward the small hut. Skua’s lip curled as I stood up. I thought of his hands on Willow’s buttocks, of how his member had plunged into her, of how her helplessness and protesting movements might themselves have aroused him. My desire was sharper than it had ever been before.

The inside of the hut was nearly dark. Only a little moonlight shone through the openings under the roof. As Birana sat down, I knelt behind her and pulled at her shirt.

“What’s wrong with you?” she whispered in the lake tongue.

“I must… I need…” I forced her down on her belly.

“You’re hurting me.”

“I must…”

She twisted away and struck me. “Oh, I understand. How quickly you adapt. Well, you’re still stronger than I am, especially now. Go ahead, do what you like. If I resist too much, you can call out to the others. They’d probably come here and hold me down for you, and then tell you what a fine man you are for taking what you want.”

She stretched out on the mat. The thought of her lying there enduring me, hating me, suddenly repelled me. “My need is too great,” I whispered. “Today, I saw Skua with Willow, on the shore. I knew she didn’t want him, and yet…”

“I can imagine what you saw. I’ve heard the women talk of what the men do.”

“Yet they stay here,” I said. “There must be some pleasure in it for them.”

“Where can they go, Arvil? How would they live? They come here with the men because they’d be beaten if they didn’t. Sometimes they have some pleasure, and often they don’t, but it’s worse if they fight it. The men only deceive themselves by thinking that the women want it. Is that what you want from me?”

“This place has poisoned me,” I said. “I’ve seen men have their way with weaker ones before, but the sight never roused me—I remembered what it was like to be a boy at the mercy of men. But a boy can grow strong enough to have his revenge on one who torments him too much. Willow will never grow stronger than Skua. He’ll always have his way with her.” I sighed. “These men see the women only as ground for their seed. I hate myself when I think of what they do, and yet their evil is in my soul.”

“You mustn’t…”

“Perhaps your kind was right to draw away from us and teach us to worship you.”

“No, Arvil. What’s true for these men and women isn’t true for us.”

I lay down next to her. She was silent for a long time, and then her hand touched my hair, brushing it back from my face. “Whatever you felt, you didn’t act on it. I couldn’t have fought you, but you held back. There’s evil enough in all of us—what matters is whether or not we act on it.” She paused. “You’re still my friend, aren’t you?”

“You shame me by asking. You’re more than my friend.”

“I need your friendship here. My child will need you. I fear what will happen even if I live through this birth. I’ll have to have another child, and then another—the others will expect it.”

“No,” I said. “I can’t let you suffer this again.”

“If we don’t have another child, the men will wonder why. They’ll begin to think that one of them might produce a healthy child with me. I might be forced to lie with one of them.”

“Never,” I muttered. “We’ll have to leave this place.”

“How? With a baby? Do you think they’d let us leave now?” She nestled at my side. “Arvil, I’m afraid to stay here, and yet the women have been kind to me. They have some hope even if it is an illusion. It would be hard just to abandon them although I can do little for them.”

Her lips touched my cheek. Her hands caressed me; she was seeking my touch. My longing swelled inside me.

“Isn’t it better this way,” she whispered, “having me want you?”

Her body was new, her breasts full, her belly large against me. I lay on my side as I drew her toward me.

 

 

Hyacinth’s time came a few days later.

As she stood next to Gull, holding the food she was to serve him, she suddenly doubled over. The meat and the stone platter fell from her hands. Gull lifted his hand as if to strike her, then let his arm fall.

“It is her time,” Cress said without asking if she could speak. The other women got up and led Hyacinth to their hut. Cress turned toward Birana. “You had better come too. We may have need of you.”

Birana’s hands trembled as she stood. I was about to follow when Tern motioned to me. “This is not our business,” he muttered.

“I have learned of healing. I should learn of this as well.”

He shook his head. “This is not something for a man to see.”

We finished our food and cleared the space around the fire ourselves. From time to time, Hyacinth moaned or let out a cry. The men made no sign that they heard this, but each of her cries made me tense with fear.

As I lay in the men’s hut that night, her cries grew louder until they resounded through the camp, and I shuddered at the pain she must be enduring. Tern and Pelican, on their own mats, breathed evenly as they slept on. Even Gull, who had brought this upon Hyacinth, slept soundly. I could not sleep, could not understand how the men could sleep.

Birana would suffer in the same way.

I slipped silently from the hut. Firelight flickered in the entrance to the women’s dwelling. Hyacinth was screaming almost without pause. I crept toward the light and peered inside.

The screams suddenly died. Hyacinth panted rhythmically, reminding me of the moans Birana sometimes made when I joined with her. The women crouched around Hyacinth, and then Cress and Violet took hold of her arms as she squatted. Her body shone with sweat. A tiny head bright with blood was emerging between her legs.

I gasped with fright. Willow turned. “Get away.” She jumped up and pushed me from the entrance. “This isn’t a sight for you.”

I backed into the clearing and sat down by the banked fire. I felt terror, but mingled with the terror was awe of what I had seen.

I had viewed women as those who ruled Earth and men as beings who were separated from the ways of other creatures by our ancient punishment. But in the enclaves, women still bore their young as Hyacinth did, whatever magic they used to ease it, and men still gave their seed without knowing that they did. Now I saw how linked to Earth we all were, how Earth’s ways still ruled us.

I had found something new to worship in place of the faith I had lost—life itself, the ability of women to bear their young, the power of men to make young ones with their seed. I thought of how the seed of another man and woman lived in me and of how part of me might live on in the child Birana carried. Tal lived inside me still. This was the destination of our souls—to live on in those that followed us on Earth, not in the Lady’s realm in the next world.

Someone was near me. I looked up at Birana’s shadowed face. “It’s over,” she said. “Hyacinth is well.”

“And her child?”

She lowered her eyes. “The child is a girl. She lives, but she’s weak. Cress said that she was born too soon.”

I took her hand. “And when your time comes?”

“Don’t fear too much. The women have more knowledge of these matters than I thought—they know how to help with the breathing, that their hands and the knife they use to cut the cord must be clean, other things. Perhaps the ancestor who was expelled long ago was able to pass on some knowledge to them.”

“She cried out so much…”

“Her labor was hard, but it was over quickly. It may not be so hard for me.”

I stood up. “I must tell the men. Gull will want to know.”

“Let them sleep. It’ll be morning before long. They’ll celebrate, and for once Gull will wait upon Hyacinth for a day. You’d better rest now.”

I held her for a moment before returning to the hut.

 

 

We feasted the next day. The men passed by the women’s dwelling and peered in at Hyacinth and her child as they sang. I could not keep from gazing often at the mother and child and watching as the young one sucked at Hyacinth’s breast. That was how, I learned, such a child had to be fed, and I wondered at how a woman could give not only life but nourishment as well.

I had not expected the child to be so small. Once a woman had held me in that way, had fed me. All those memories had been taken from me, and even the dreams I had once had of such a time had faded. Now they returned to me when I slept, and I heard the voice of the one who had borne me sing to me again.

The men were joyous, the women more somber. By the looks that passed between the women, I knew that they feared for the child. The camp’s celebration was short-lived. Three days after her birth, the child breathed her last.

Hyacinth stumbled from her dwelling and wailed; Gull answered her wail with his own. They stood together, the woman weeping while Gull tore at his hair and beard. “My seed is cursed,” he cried. “First Lily, and now this. What have I done?” He threw himself on the ground and pounded with his fists until Tern and Pelican led him away.

Cress, surrounded by the other women, carried the small body out of the camp. I followed with the men. We walked until we came to the hill overlooking the sea, then made our way down to the shore. There, the weeping women lay the child on the sand. Gulls shrieked as they circled overhead, adding their cries to ours.

We waited until the waves reached the body. As the child disappeared into the sea, Hyacinth screamed while Violet held her. Birana’s hand was over her belly as she glanced at me.

The men averted their eyes, but not before I had seen the fear of death in them—not fear of the death of one, but the fear that their entire band might die out soon.

Tern moved closer to me as the women left the beach. “It seems,” he murmured, “that our hopes now lie with your child.”