Authors: Kathryn Lance
The Principal went on with a short history of how the compound had grown from a very few huts to the large townlike fortress it was today; how the inhabitants had given as much time and thought to self-sufficiency as they had to learning, from the beginning. “They saw that the Change caused so much misery because people had grown soft and ignorant, unable to care for themselves. So they began training children from an early age to do as much for themselves as possible, and to learn everything they could about the world. The first part of that philosophy, the need for self-sufficiency, has already spread through the District and helped to make our stability possible. The second, the vital importance of understanding the world, I hope to spread. From the first day when I became a leader of men, I vowed that I would help to bring back civilization. Civilization is much more than law and order, and comfort. It is also learning, and creating new ideas, and art. The Garden is the seed of our new civilization, and it will continue to grow in its new home.”
He paused again, and this time his audience remained silent, watching as he paced a few steps, then, with one hand raised, he concluded: “When it began, the Garden was made up of both men and women. Times and customs change, but I hope that soon both men and women can again work together for civilization.”
The last part of the speech was delivered with such passion and conviction that Evvy found tears starting to her eyes. She realized that the Principal could not have achieved his power if he were not skilled at making speeches. Still, she was touched: it seemed obvious he had given this speech not only as an explanation to his men, but as a tribute to the women of the Garden. If he felt this way about the Garden and its objectives, what could be the source of enmity between him and the Garden’s leaders?
There was silence when he had finished speaking, then again murmuring from both sides of the fire. Some of his men were looking suspiciously at him, while others nodded, or gazed at the women across the fire with narrowed eyes. The silence grew and with it a sense of tension. Then Evvy felt a movement at her side. The Mistress sat up straight and began to clap. Immediately other women joined her, and the applause spread across to where the men sat. After a moment, some of them stood and began cheering. The Principal smiled almost shyly and sat; Evvy was sure she could see relief on his face. He accepted a cup of brew from one of his men, then glanced toward the Mistress and nodded.
At a signal, the men who had prepared the feast began to set out dishes and pitchers, and conversations started and grew to a constant buzz.
“He seems to care about us,” Lucky said, the firelight illuminating her freckled face. “Do you think he meant it?”
“I’m sure of it,” said Evvy, still moved.
The old woman turned her head. “It’s a struggle in him,” she said. “There are still many things he doesn’t understand, and never will.”
Evvy was about to ask more when Baby did an astonishing thing. The little fox-cat had kept her ears pricked and given every evidence of paying attention to the speech. Now she suddenly got to her feet, stretched, and trotted around the fire straight to the Principal.
He was speaking and laughing with one of his aides, his teeth flashing white. As Evvy watched, the fox-cat sat on her haunches directly in front of the Principal, waiting to be noticed. After a moment, she gently touched his knee with a paw. Still the Principal did not react until the man he was speaking to laughed and pointed to the fox-cat. Evvy could not hear what the man said, but the Principal, looking surprised, spoke clearly and loudly.
“Why, hello, there,” he said. He put out a hand and scratched the fox-cat between her ears. Baby stretched herself in the pleasure of being touched, then licked his hand. Evvy nudged the Mistress. “Look,” she whispered. “Baby liked the speech too.”
The old woman gazed across the fire and nodded. “I have learned to trust Baby’s judgment,” she said.
One of the women handed her a bowl of stew, and she turned to eat it without further comment. Evvy ate her own dinner and watched as the fox-cat curled up beside the Principal, who continued to talk, his hand lightly resting on the little animal’s flank.
Evvy felt far more relaxed here than she could have imagined; she scarcely listened while Lucky kept up an excited stream of chatter next to her. “I never saw so many men,” said Lucky. “They aren’t so scary up close, are they? The man sitting next to the Principal looks kind, don’t you think?” She giggled, then, when Evvy didn’t answer, she went on: “What do you think of the Principal, Evvy?”
Evvy turned to her, startled. “I don’t know,” she said. She thought of the few things that Zach had said about him and remembered her terror the night he had first come. She also thought of his easy smile and the way his men looked at him and followed him. “I think he must be a very good leader,” she said at last.
“He’s awfully handsome,” Lucky went on. “He looks like a picture in one of the Mistress’s books. Katha says he’s evil and cruel. He doesn’t seem that way tonight, though.”
The feasting continued for some time, and Evvy began to grow sleepy. Lucky too settled down, an occasional comment the only sign that she was awake. Some of the soldiers had begun to sing an old products ballad and were soon joined by a woman sitting not far from Evvy. Katha hissed at her to stop, but at almost the same time another high voice, and then another, joined in, and soon as many women were singing as men. It sounded wonderful to Evvy, who had heard very little music in her life except on the journey with Zach. Those who were not singing were talking and laughing loudly, men and women together, and Evvy suddenly realized, startled, that many of them were drunk. Never before had she seen anyone drunk act happy. Her second-father drank from time to time and always became morose, and sometimes mean, shouting and threatening to beat his wife and the children, although he never did.
“This is disgusting,” Katha said loudly. “Can I be the only one who sees what he’s trying to do?”
The Mistress, who had seemed to be dozing, opened her eyes. “Katha, please. Don’t you know yet that it’s not men who are our enemy?”
Katha seemed about to retort, but Gunda placed a gentle arm around her shoulder. She leaned over and whispered something in her ear. Katha shook her head angrily, but didn’t speak.
The old woman’s eyes closed again, and this time she truly did seem to be asleep. After a few minutes she slumped against the tree. At almost the same moment Lucky yawned loudly, then called to Katha and gestured at the old woman. Katha rose.
“It’s time for bed,” she said, in a commanding tone. “We’ve a long day tomorrow, and it’s late.”
Several women nodded and yawned, while others continued to sing and talk. Katha clapped her hands for attention, but before she could speak again the Principal looked up. “Those who wish, stay just a little longer,” he said, smiling. “It’s bad luck to break up a party too early.”
“Superstitious fool,” Katha muttered. With a poisonous look at the Principal, she knelt and, with Gunda’s help, gently brought the Mistress to her feet. The old woman seemed still asleep – she had drunk a glass of brew, Evvy remembered.
“Aren’t you coming, Evvy?” asked Lucky, her eyelids heavy.
Evvy considered. It was probably best to go now, but she was enjoying the singing, and, besides, Baby was not with her. She had become accustomed to going to sleep with the little fox-cat, although Baby generally left her late at night to hunt. “In a few minutes,” she said. She glanced across the fire where Baby was playing tug-of-war with one of the Principal’s men.
Lucky nodded. “Good night, then,” she said and joined the other women and children who were walking through the gate and into the compound. There were more than a dozen women still present and perhaps four times that many men. Feeling quite grown up, Evvy settled herself a little closer to the fire and yawned. She would wait just till Katha returned. . . .
A hand was shaking her shoulder, a gentle voice speaking: “Has our singing put you to sleep?”
Evvy looked up to see the Principal’s smiling face a few inches above her own. He was kneeling between her and the fire. She had fallen asleep against the tree.
“Oh!” she said, unable to think of any other response.
“I believe this is your fox-cat,” he said.
Sleepily, and shyly, Evvy nodded. Baby rubbed against her, then abruptly turned and jumped at a large insect drawn to the fire. “Baby—” she cried and half rose, but the Principal blocked her way.
“Let her play for a few more minutes,” he said. “You’re not in such a hurry, are you?”
She wanted nothing more than to stay and talk to him but again could think of nothing to say.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
She told him, stammering.
“Evvy, I’d like you to have a cup of brew with us. We’ve been enjoying your pet and would like to thank you.”
His breath smelled of brew and new-smoke, but it was not unpleasant and reminded her of Zach.
“Thank you,” she said. “I don’t think I should—”
“For luck,” he said. “Daniel, bring a cup of brew for my friend Evvy.”
His aide crossed around to the women’s side of the fire. He was a young, clean-shaven man with light brown hair, and Evvy thought he was nearly as handsome as the Principal. He moved unsteadily, but he was smiling. Perhaps, Evvy decided, the way people responded to drink depended on the circumstances. She accepted the cup, too shy even to say thank you, and sipped.
And spit it out. It was horribly bitter. The Principal and his friend laughed.
“A bit strong,” said the Principal, “but you’ll soon get used to it. You must never sip brew, but drink it down, like this.” Draining his own cup, he demonstrated, then held it out to be refilled from the large flask Daniel carried.
Evvy tried again, taking a larger mouthful and forcing herself to swallow. It tasted no better, but felt warm and strangely pleasant. She could feel the path the liquid took down her throat and into her stomach. She paused a moment, then had another swallow.
“Better?” he asked. Again, she nodded. “Are you enjoying the party?”
She nodded yes.
“I’m glad you’re having a good time, and I’m glad your sisters are too. I wanted the women of the Garden to know that I respect them; it’s because of that I have to move you.”
Evvy nodded again. She had understood this in his speech. She took another sip of brew while he again drained his cup. He had drunk more already than she had ever seen Marson drink, but he seemed steady; only his speech was beginning to slur.
“More brew,” he said, holding his cup to Daniel. “And for Evvy.”
She shook her head quickly, but he didn’t seem to notice. Daniel returned to the other side of the fire to refill the flask. The Principal sat rather heavily at Evvy’s side. He began to sing along to one of the songs, and for just a moment his voice sounded like Zach’s. Startled, she looked at him, and he looked back, not quite focusing.
“Do you like music?” he asked.
She nodded, wishing that he would continue to sing and not question her.
“I haven’t sung for a long time,” he said. “Not since . . . well, never mind.” He was silent a moment, gazing at the fire. “It wasn’t an easy thing to decide,” he said then.
For a moment Evvy didn’t know what he was talking about, then realized he must mean the decision to evacuate the Garden. Without waiting for an answer, he went on: “There are pressures on a leader that other people can’t understand. Terrible pressures.”
“I suppose there are,” Evvy said, beginning to feel uncomfortable.
The Principal’s aide had returned, and both men continued to drink. The Principal turned again to Evvy: “You’ve hardly said a word to me, yet I feel that I know you. But I would remember if I had met you before. Did you ever have that feeling about someone?”
Evvy nodded; she had been thinking the same thing about the Principal himself. The cup of brew had made her very sleepy. She yawned, then got to her feet.
“Don’t go yet,” he said. He reached for her wrist, but stopped before touching her. “Please,” he repeated. The way he said it made her think that he must be very lonely.
“I must,” she said. “Thank you for the party.”
“Before you go, tell me one thing.”
She waited.
“Where are you from? I know you didn’t grow up here.”
Evvy started. How could he know that? Did he suspect the truth? She could think of no answer and stammered.
“She’s a sensible girl,” said Daniel laughing. “She’s afraid of you.”
“Don’t be frightened,” said the Principal. “I won’t hurt you. I only want to get to know you. You are very lovely, do you know that?”
His face was still gentle and friendly, but his voice had acquired a frightening gruffness. She continued to stand there, afraid to say more or to leave. She had begun to like him, in spite of everything, but now she remembered that he owned her, under the law.
If only Zach were here
, she thought suddenly.
And then she heard Katha’s clear voice cut through the singing. “It’s bedtime for all women of the Garden,” she called. “The Mistress orders everyone inside.”
Evvy straightened, relieved. She looked down at the Principal and was startled by the look he was sending in Katha’s direction. Its intense hatred made Evvy’s stomach turn over. The remaining women were stumbling to their feet now and moving toward the gate.
The Principal looked up and smiled tiredly. “It’s been nice talking to you, Evvy,” he said. “I hope we can do it again.”
“Thank you,” she said. She was not sure whether she dared to be so close to him again. He started to rise and stumbled, then laughed. He was, she could see, very drunk. If he was anything like Marson, he probably wouldn’t even remember the conversation.
As she followed Katha and the remaining women through the gate, Evvy looked back. The soldiers were dispersing, those who hadn’t simply fallen asleep by the fire. Only a very few, very drunk men were still singing. Among them were the Principal and Daniel. The Principal poured more brew from the flask, spilling it on his boots, and raised his cup in a toast. Despite the festivity of the gesture, Evvy thought that he was the loneliest, saddest person she had ever met.