Authors: Alice Borchardt
Cateyrin began wiping her face with her hand. “Any man can fall to a Circe, even the best.”
“Yes. Yes, dear, I know. Now go fetch honey and curd cheese for our guests.”
She sighed softly after Cateyrin left. “Thank God she’s alive. But no matter how many ways I cast the omens, I did not see her death. Neither did any of the others in the collegium, and when the lot fell on her, I consulted them all. I couldn’t believe we were all wrong.”
“My lady,” I said. “Tell me why these jewels are so important that for every few dozen you must sacrifice a human life.”
“We can’t live without them. And the gods demand their due,” she said.
“But what do they, these jewels, do?”
“Cateyrin didn’t tell you?” she asked.
“No. Nothing coherent.”
“Come with me.” She led us toward an alcove in the round room. There was a very narrow stair in the alcove; it spiraled down. She went first, I followed, Albe and Tuau trailed behind. The stair came to a halt looking down at a sunlit lake.
We are under the ground,
I thought. How could this be?
There was a rope ladder on a ledge near the opening. Ilona dropped it and I saw the weighted end fall to a small promontory projecting out into the lake.
I climbed down.
The promontory proved to be the trunk of a gigantic, fallen tree that lay half-submerged in the lake. I stood on it and gasped at an abundance I could only dream of before.
The lake—actually it was more of a marsh—stretched out on all sides around me. It supported a vast variety of life. In the deep, clear brown center, I saw the darting movement of large fish as they hunted minnows, tadpoles, and surface-dwelling insects. Beyond that place the shallows began, and they were populated by the same broad-leaved plants I’d seen growing on the floating islands on our way into the city. They were very beautiful. The velvety-rose, black, red, and variegated arrowhead-shaped leaves shaded the still, brown water where small fish roamed, dragonflies hovered, frogs kicked, and water skaters danced.
I followed the log moving among the big, nodding leaves until I reached true marsh, a place thick with golden cress, blue-spiked pickerelweed, white-flowered waterweed, clumps of cattails where vividly colored birds nested among hummocks of reeds. The reeds were tall and short, some with red, fuzzy heads, others that bore plumes like papyrus, and yet others stately but with long greens, sharp, sword-shaped leaves that slid into an unwary human’s hand and legs like so many knives.
I reached the end of the log and saw the magnificent lake was surrounded by a swamp composed of dense, drowned jungle, thick with enormous trees clothed in masses of vegetation so luxuriant it was practically impossible to know where the trees ended and the mass of guests and parasites they harbored began. The massive knot of twisted roots of the half-drowned trees towered over my head and I could walk no further. I stopped and saw a small, skin-covered boat tied to one of the tree roots. I turned and realized that Ilona had followed me down the ladder and was standing beside me on the log.
“What do you see?” she asked.
I told her and she nodded.
“This lake,” she said, “supports my family. I and my daughter.” She reached out and lifted one of the broad-leafed plants from the water, and I saw the leaves sprang from a rhizome as thick around as my thigh.
“I harvest these and I have a food seller who will buy all I can take from the water. The bread you ate last evening was made of flour ground from these dried roots.”
“This place cannot be,” I said. “We are deep underground and that sunlit sky above.” I stood looking up to the light even as I denied it. “That sunlit sky is an illusion.”
Ilona laughed. “Girl, you are blond as any woman I have ever seen and if you remain much longer, the illusion above will give you a terrible sunburn.”
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” was the reply.
I stretched out my hand toward one of the tree roots, but my fingers went through the apparently solid root as though it were mist and brushed stone. I jerked my hand back. The big, dark, velvet-leafed plant whose root she had just shown me was near my legs. I grabbed at the thick stem; my hand closed around it and I was also able to lift the fat root out of the water.
I dropped it. It fell back with a splash. My mind was ready for the splatter of water on my leg and foot, but it didn’t come. The water seemed to pass through my leg and foot as though it were not real, but a ghost.
“No!” I said again. Then I remembered Ure’s last lesson. I reached for the root again. My fingers closed around it and I felt damp, soft, dirty wood.
Ilona was nodding. “You are a sorceress,” she said. “And you have just experienced the central paradox of this place.”
“A thing is either real or it is not,” I stated flatly.
“Not here it isn’t,” Ilona said quietly.
Only a few yards way, I heard a harsh cry and a magnificent blue-crested waterbird took wing from a thicket of cattails. One wing passed through my body the way a wandering ghost goes through a door. I spun around, loosened my will, and stretched out my hand toward the wing. The tops of my fingers brushed sun-warmed feathers.
I stood there, heart hammering, almost too frightened to speak.
“The jewels do this,” Ilona said. “They bring places like this within the reach of the women living here. You saw how barren the land around the city is.”
I nodded.
“Without the food provided by this place and others like it, how long do you think it would be before we starved? We cannot raise more than a tenth of what we need around the lake in the valley. And food, my dear, is only the beginning. Every man, high or low, wise or stupid, strong or weak, noble or base, would kill as many as necessary to make a woman with talents like yours part of his family. You could have your pick among the first sons of all the great families, and the one who gets you would, in the end, achieve hegemony over all the rest.
“The gems are eaten only by women. Only women can wander among the many worlds to which the gems open the doors. Meth will tell the Circe about you and the Circe will sell the information to the seven great families.”
“Maybe Meth won’t succumb to her,” I said.
Ilona gave me a mirthless laugh. “Don’t depend on it. Even now I’m sure they are welding a collar around his neck and he is sipping the waters of Lethe. To a Circe, men are just beasts of burden. They like their favorite Fir Blog better, far better, than most human males. Fir Blogs have big pricks and are almost never fractious slaves, whereas human men often turn vicious and sometimes have to be butchered for their meat when, after a few years, they develop a tolerance for the Lethe water used to stupefy them.”
“Butchered for meat,” I gasped.
“Yes, dear. I can see my daughter was not very . . . shall we say, informative . . . about the difficulties inherent in our society. But then, she’s young yet and I have tried to shelter her from some of the more unpleasant facts about life in this city. See, she was very fond of Meth and if I’d filled her in on his probable eventual fate, it would only have upset her. But I feel I must be honest with you. You are in great danger and in desperate need of my services.”
My shoulders were burning and I could feel the heat in my face. I reflected that Ilona had been right about sunburn.
I heard Albe calling me. “My lady! My lady! Where are you?”
I shouted back, “I’m here! Not far from you! I’ll return in a moment. I’m talking with Ilona!”
“Can’t she see?” I asked Ilona, irritated.
“No,” Ilona replied. “No, she can’t. I told you, you are a sorceress. Remember? All she and Tuau see is fog or darkness.”
“I’m coming!” I shouted. “I’ll be right there.” And I started walking the log toward the rope ladder.
Ilona halted me with a touch on the arm. “Do you comprehend what I have been telling you?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered. “Yes, I believe I do.”
How things work. How things really work. I had Maeniel’s teachings to fall back on. He taught me to look beneath the surface and weigh deeds rather than words.
I followed Ilona back to her dwelling, where I sat at the table and ate curd cheese with honey and listened carefully to everything she had to say.
Women were at a premium here because they were the only ones who could use the crystal fruit to travel between the worlds. But not every woman was capable of the journey—only a favored few. The leaders of the seven great houses quarreled violently among themselves over such women, because by controlling them, they added to the power of the clan. The man married to a very talented woman became head of the family and wielded power over the rest.
“Cateyrin?” I asked.
“Has never shown any signs of talent,” Ilona answered. “But you and your friend, Albe? The mere fact that you came to this world from another and demonstrated your skill when attacked by the party that accompanied my daughter . . . and add to that your magnificent armor, your abilities in my garden. All prove you are Women of the Wager.”
Women of the Wager. I knew what that meant. You see, among us there are many ways to marry.
You can sell yourself at the Beltane Fair as I once wanted to. It’s not a bad deal, in spite of Dugald’s fury. The man who hires you hands your wages to the chief. If in a year you find you don’t suit, why, you may take your money and go. Should you become pregnant, that’s another thing. If the child is a girl, you may take it without penalty. If a boy, you may keep him only until he is five. Then his father or one of his kin must foster him and teach him to be a man.
Or most often, noblewomen or women of property are married off by their kin. That is to the family or tribe’s advantage, financial or political.
Most women aren’t rich enough or pretty enough or noble enough to be subject to these constraints. But among those who are, a woman who would not be sold like a cow or a horse may proclaim that she will not be possessed by any man who cannot defeat her in single combat. There are, as Dugald told me once, many more stories about such wagers than there are women who dare to demand them. But they happen often enough to be mentioned in the laws protecting women from abuse, and it would seem the women who were in demand as wives to the great families must prove themselves in magic and in battle both.
It is further said that the woman who makes such a wager draws her strength from the magic bestowed by virginity, and when she is deprived of her maidenhead, she becomes as all other women are—weak, biddable, and submissive.
Albe listened as intently as I did, and when Ilona was finished, she whispered, “My lady, we’re going to have to fight our way out of here. The law does not allow you to enter any man’s bed save one.”
“I know,” I answered softly.
Suddenly she chuckled. “I cannot think a maidenhead makes that much difference as far as strength is concerned. Mine’s long gone and I am as vicious as any wild bull.”
“Why should those men want to bed only fighting women?” I asked.
“Those journeys the stones send them on are quite dangerous. Many don’t come back. And of those who do, it seems the best fighters predominate. Your talents, your quite obvious talents, place the two of you among the best. But fear not,” she continued. “You have come to the right place. I derive only part of my income from the lake you saw. I am a teacher of arms, an instructer in the martial arts.”
“The lake?” I asked. “Where did the lake come from?”
“My great-grandmother was an undefeated fighting woman. She came . . . upon one of the gems, found the lake, and brought it here.”
“How is that possible?” I asked.
Ilona shrugged. “I don’t know. She left this freehold to her daughter, who left it to me. The lake is part of it. No one can take it from me, because no one can get to it without my help.”
“So the great families don’t control everything,” I said.
“They like to think so, but no. No, they don’t.”
Tuau came and rolled on his back and wallowed in front of Albe. She scratched his stomach. He moaned with pleasure.
“Oh, God, no wonder the little cats like you so much.
Mmmum, mum.
Oh, God.”
Then he whipped, landing on his feet, panting with pleasure.
“That’s almost better than sex! Almost!”
Another cat moan, then he sat down on his haunches and began licking his balls. His penis popped out of the sheath, pink, curved, and rough-looking. He transferred his attentions from his balls to it. About six more fast licks, and it obligingly spurted seminal fluid.
Panting, he lay down on his stomach, paws curved around his white chest, and gave a sigh of contentment.
“Wonderful. Just wonderful,” he purred.
“God Almighty!” Albe rolled her eyes.
Ilona studied him and shook her head. “Cats!” she said.
“Are you feeling strong?” she asked me.
“Strong as I ever am,” I answered.
“Good. In spite of all we have been through, I must earn my living. And it is time to harvest roots from the lake. I could use some help.”
I borrowed a smock, and Cateyrin took the stained silk I was wearing to wash it. This time both Ilona and I concentrated on helping Tuau, Albe, and Cateyrin ease through the veil that hung between this world and the one that held the lake.
The harvest went well. Albe, who was used to fishing with hook and line, went after fish at the lake’s center, while Cateyrin hauled up loads of harvested roots and leaves. When Albe reached my side near the entry point, I asked her, “How much are you here?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I see most of the lake, but there is only fog at the edges.”
I placed my left hand on her shoulder and felt for the first time power gather in my body. I was afraid then of what it might do to her, but I began to let it ease into her.
She started suddenly. “I can see it! The lake, the fish, the sun on the water, the drowned forest surrounding the lake.”
She looked down and said, “I feel through the shoes the tree bark beneath my feet.” She looked at me. “How wonderful to be able to do such things.”
I wasn’t sure. I was afraid, afraid of what might happen if I made the lake so real, or our connection with it so strong, that the entrance closed and we couldn’t get back. I eased back my concentration and let the lake fade slightly. Albe didn’t seem to notice any difference.