Authors: Suzette Haden Elgin
By then I’d acquired a certain new respect for the Family Traveller and a feeling that their name was a fitting one and well earned. Tinaseeh made Kintucky look like a kitchen garden.
“There it is, Sterling,” I said as we came in. “Castle Traveller, just as described.” First, an outer keep of upright Tinaseeh ironwood logs, standing side by side with their wicked points an exact twelve feet tall—not an inch deviation allowed anywhere. Then two inner keeps, made exactly the same way, one within the other. At the heart of the third keep, the Castle itself, not much bigger than Castle Lewis. And there was no town, though it had the name of one and one was planned—Roebuck. The buildings of “Roebuck” hugged in orderly rows to the walls of the Castle keeps. There’d been no time yet on Tinaseeh for such a thing as a separate town.
According to the computers, there were exactly eleven hundred and thirteen people on this continent, and all but a half-dozen were Travellers, Farsons, Guthries, and a stray Wommack or two. And every structure here was built of Tinaseeh ironwood, which would not bum, and could only be cut with a lasersaw, and which could—with sufficient patience—be tooled by laser to an edge that a person could shave with. I had seen friendlier-looking places.
I was met at the gates of the outer keep by an Attendant, who sent me under escort to the gate of the next keep beyond, where they passed me on to a third to take me up to the Castle gates, and not a word said the whole time beyond regulations.
“Greetings, Responsible of Brightwater; follow me.”
I followed.
I had not expected parties here, or parades, or fairs. I knew better. A formal dinner—for twelve—I had expected. And I was prepared for one Solemn Service after another; that would strike the Travellers as entertainment enough. Ordinary Solemn Service on Tinaseeh began on Sundy at 7:00 of the morning and lasted past noon, to be followed by another session after a two-hour break for dinner. I had anticipated that a
company
Solemn Service might well provide me with preaching enough to fortify me against all the evil I’d have to contend with for the next year or two. I’d expected a
substantial
edification of my soul.
But I was not prepared for what actually did take place, which was that ten minutes after I’d freshened up—with an Attendant standing in my door waiting with an eloquent back to me, seeing that I didn’t tarry over it—I was taken without further ado to a formal Family Council. Hospitable, it wasn’t. And I felt a sudden steadying in my stomach. This—which was glorified sass, by the look of it—was more in my line of experience than what I’d just been through at Wommack. If it turned out sufficiently extravagant it would even give me something I needed badly ... something to keep my unruly mind in order yet a while.
The Meetingroom had walls of varnished ironwood, and it held a group of people that appeared to be put together of the same unappealing substance, seated in straight chairs around a long narrow table. They reminded me of the side-by-side upright logs that fenced their keeps, and my traveling costume stood out in the grim and the gloom like a carnival garb.
“Young woman,” said the man at the head of the table, “I am Jeremiah Thomas Traveller the 26
th
; be seated.”
I sat, and he named them off. His wife, Suzannah of Parson. His three oldest sons: Jeremiah Thomas the 27
th
, Nahum Micah the 4
th
, and Stephen Phillip the 30
th
... why he wasn’t Obadiah Jonas I couldn’t imagine; perhaps Suzannah had pleaded for some relief. His three oldest daughters still at home—Rosemary, Chastity, and Miranda, every one of them a six. His brother, Valen Marion Traveller the 9
th
. And his own mother, now a Granny in this Castle, Granny Leeward. Not another wife, not a husband, not a child; just the in-Family.
“And I,” I said, “am Responsible of Brightwater As you are aware.”
“We are that,” said Suzannah of Farson. “It could hardly be missed.” Her reference was to my outfit, which was in marked contrast to her own dress of dark gray belted with black. I smiled at her, sweet as cinnamon sugar, and waited the move.
“We have called this Council in your honor,” she said, “and would like to begin. But you’ve had a long journey—are you hungry? Or thirsty? We can have coffee brought, and some food, if you need it.”
“Thank you,” I said, “I had breakfast before I left.”
“Considerate of you,” said Suzannah. “We have little time to waste here on Tinaseeh. It’s a hard land, and not meant for the shiftless.”
“Proceed, then,” I told her “You’ve no need to coddle
me
, I assure you; I’m perfectly comfortable. And I’ve been in Council a time or two before. I expect you’ll find me able to tolerate yours.”
“Are you trying to be insolent, missy?” said the Granny, her mouth tight. “Or does it just come natural to you?”
I considered the question, and I looked her up and down, and no looking away from her pale blue eyes, either; and I decided that her question was serious, not just grannying, and deserved a serious answer
“It’s a cold welcome you’ve offered me, Granny Leeward,” I said, “and not the way an Ozarker’s brought up to treat a guest. As it comes natural to youall to be unpleasant, it comes natural to me to be unpleasant in return. I’m told I’m good at it.”
“Guests,” said Granny Leeward, “are
invited
. You were not.”
“True enough,” I said. “And you’re not the first to point it out to me.”
“There are those,” she said, “as would of taken instruction the first time they heard it—and not needed a second statement of the obvious.”
“There are those,” I said, “as let every little thing put them off their duty. I am
not
one of those.”
Silence. And then the Granny, who appeared to have been designated spokesperson for this collection of alleged living beings, began in earnest.
“I call for Full Council,” she said.
“Seconded.” And the ayes went round.
“Explain your purpose here. Responsible of Brightwater,” she continued. “And speak up plain. It’s a long table.”
“There’s been magic used for mischief on Marktwain,” I said easily. “You know all about that. And a baby kidnapped from out of a Solemn Service, which is not decent. And in Full Council it was decided that it might be a good idea to spell out the particulars to the Twelve Families, as well as find the maker of the mischief. And it was agreed that I was best equipped to do that—and here, therefore, I am.”
“You’re a girl of fourteen!” she declared.
“You’re a woman of eighty-six. Neither number is significant.”
“And what fits a girl of fourteen—it
is
of significance, missy, for it means you’ve neither wisdom nor instruction nor experience—what fits a girl of fourteen to go gallivanting around the planet on a Mule, dressed like a
whore
, pestering decent folk and creating trouble everywhere she goes?”
Well, she was a Granny of eighty-six, and I was a girl of fourteen, as had just been stated. I took the bait she’d laid for me as easy as if I’d never heard the word before.
Granny Leeward had been holding a black cloth fan, using it to tap the table with to emphasize the ends of her phrases. By the time she got to “everywhere she goes” she was holding as pretty a nosegay of black mushrooms as you’d care to see anywhere. And they had me.
Her hand didn’t even quiver, though I knew the mushrooms stung her—I’d made sure of that, while I was digging myself a hole to fall in—and she laid them out before her on the table and folded her arms.
“There’s your answer,” she said. “Just as I told you.”
Jeremiah Thomas Traveller the 26
th
looked at his timepiece and nodded with satisfaction.
“Well done, Granny Leeward,” he said. “Three minutes flat.”
“Mighty sensitive to words, aren’t you, child,” said their dear old Granny, “for someone who sets herself
so
high she presumes to teach the Twelve Families their manners?”
Law, how it galled! I’d of given years off my life to have back the last five minutes, and sense enough to do them over right. But that’s not how the world works, as I could hear myself telling other people, and there was nothing I could do but be silent and see where this would lead me.
The Master of the Castle told me.
“Personally,” he said, “I was inclined to think Granny Leeward was exaggerating some when she told us her estimate of your abilities. I have daughters of my own, and they do sometimes play about with Spells and the like, when they get to be your age—it’s a stage, and they grow out of it. But you seem to have got somewhat beyond that, Responsible of Brightwater”
“I sincerely beg your pardon,” I said sadly “I’m afraid I lost my temper—and I’d ask you to lay
that
to my age, too, if you would. It won’t happen again.”
“How could it happen at all?”
I didn’t answer but he wasn’t about to drop it.
“How does it happen at
all
,” he insisted, “that a girl of fourteen, whatever special place she may have in the frame of things, is able to set a Spell like that one you just set, and her against a skilled Granny?”
I saw Granny Leeward’s lips twitch at that; she knew very well no Spell nor Charm would have turned her fan into those mushrooms. That had required a Substitution Transformation, and an illegal one, and it had been incredibly stupid of me. A simple Spell would of been more than enough ... I could of just heated up the fan a little bit, and had my temper fit that way. But the Granny wouldn’t betray me to a male; she lowered her eyes, and she kept her silence.
“I’ve studied a good deal,” I said carefully, “and I’ve had good teachers. Nonetheless, it wasn’t nice of me. As I said, I regret I did it, and I apologize, most respectfully.”
“Well, Granny Leeward told us you knew a few tricks,” said her son, “and that she figured it wouldn’t take her five minutes to prove she was right—and it took her three. I don’t mind telling you, young woman, I don’t approve of it atall. I’m sorry my family had to see it happen.”
“And so is Responsible of Brightwater;” said the Granny, twisting the knife. “Pride,” she added, “goes along before a fall.”
“I’m afraid ‘sorry’ won’t cut it,” said Jeremiah Thomas. “No; I’m afraid it will take more than just
sorry
to make me easy with something like you under my roof.”
Here it came again; I didn’t bother to ask.
“I’ll have your sworn word,” he said. “And I’ll have it now.”
“Sworn to what?”
“That you’ll use no magic—not
any
level, Responsible of Brightwater; not even Common Sense—so long as you are, as you yourself point out, the guest of this Castle and this Family, and under my roof. Since it’s clear you’ve no sense of what’s decent, you’ll make do on mother wit alone.”
“Are you that afraid of a few tricks?” I taunted him. “From a girl of fourteen?”
“Indeed I am,” he said, “
indeed
I am! This is a respectable household, and the people within it not accustomed to scandal. We follow the old ways here, and we have a wholesome respect for the power of such as you, no matter how you come packaged. If you came into my house with a loaded gun, you’d have to give it up while you stayed here, as would you a flask of poison, or a laser; or any other such truck. And I’m a lot more afraid of magic unbridled than I am of any of those.”
He turned away from me then and spoke to the son that bore his name.
“I hope you see,” he said gravely, “and I hope you will spread the word among our people, that this is what can be expected when the old ways are
not
observed. I’ll count on you to go over it with considerable care when you speak to our households next—might could be that will tame a few of those not thinking in the proper
way
of the Jubilee this young woman’s been sent around to sponsor.”
“As a matter of fact, sir,” the answer came, “it seems to me it might be an excellent idea to discuss this whole thing
at
the Jubilee. It would perhaps be instructive for the other Families to hear about.”
My gown was drenched with my own cold salt sweat, and my hair clung to my neck like wet weeds. I’d found my guilty, no doubt about that; it could hardly have been clearer if they’d had it branded on their foreheads. The venom from around that table, where almost no one had spoken one word, or more than stared at me, was as real as my two hands before me, and it battered at me in waves. I admired the cool control of this Granny—most would have been setting wards.
It was a tidy trap, grant them all that. If I accused them of using magic to wreck the Jubilee, or of turning it against Castle Brightwater; as I surely could have, there were ten grown men and women in this room prepared to swear that they’d seen me carry out an illegal act of magic right before their eyes, under their own roof, and against one of their own. And they would be telling the truth. If I’d been against the Confederation my own self, I could hardly have done it graver harm, and for sure I’d of been better off listening to my uncles, staying home, and ignoring the whole thing.
And if I gave them the oath they asked for—as I would have to do, no question about it, and their Granny there to see that I left no comers dangling—there’d be no passing this night in undoing by magic the folly I’d wreaked. I’d lie in my bed and I’d pray, and I would maybe cry some; but I’d do no magic. Not even to look ahead and see just how much chance there was of
any
solution to the problem.