The Gate to Women's Country

Septemius ascended to the platform, cut Tonia in half and restored her, made her disappear in several different ways, from his empty hat drew doves, and from the shepherds’ ears plucked coins, which he then poured into the hat and caused to vanish once more. Tonia and Kostia, Kostia in a veil so as not to reveal that they were twins—which would have explained a good deal about her recent disappearances—-did a mind-reading act which involved answering questions sealed in envelopes, without opening the envelopes until after the question was answered. Everyone had beer, a treat, since grain was always short, and went to bed feeling jolly. The guards on the walls sang their all’s-wells into the star-pricked sky, and the camp settled down.

“When are you going to meet him?” Septemius asked from the fireside.

“Tomorrow,” said Stavia, looking up from the paper she was holding down on a flat board before her, squinting in the flickering light. “I’ve got to ask another favor, Septemius.”

“I’ve done entirely too much already,” he said, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt. It was annoyance mostly with himself. He had done too much, too much harm. He wanted to dissuade her.

“I want you to deliver this report and three strange dogs we’ve found.”

“Dogs?” he asked, suddenly interested.

“I know you probably planned to go on over to Peggytown, but it would be better if you didn’t travel on that road. Not alone. Besides, the dogs and my report, both, should get back to Marthatown as soon as possible. There are people spying on the camp here, people from somewhere south, maybe those same people you told me about. The Joint Women’s Country Council should know about all this as soon as possible. I think we need a garrison down here. Know it in my gut, mostly.” She frowned, remembering the itchy feeling of being observed she had had when she wandered away from the camp.

“I’ve written a letter to Morgot. In it, I’ve asked her to pay you for your time. I’d pay you now if I had any exchange money with me, but I don’t.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t want us to travel that road, but you’re going to be out there, you and Chernon, alone?”

“We won’t be alone! We’ll have the donkey.” She grinned at him. “And no, I’m teasing you. I’ve decided the itinerary as laid out by the Joint Council isn’t appropriate. I don’t need to explore south to find out if there are people there, we already know that. So, I’ll just do a very brief and sneaky reconnaissance toward the east, mostly to collect botanicals. No sense wasting this journey entirely, even though I won’t do all of what was planned. I was out there on the prairie today and I could feel eyes all over me, like a swarm of bees. I’m not going to show myself again. Exploration south of here should be done in strength, including warriors, not by one or two.”

“I worry about you,” he said impotently. “I do, Stavia.”

“Tss,” she teased him. “Worry about your own family, old Bird. Worry about those twins. Better settle down near Women’s Country and let them live in a civilized manner.”

“I’ve thought that,” he replied. “Yes.”

“Well, speak to Morgot about it when you get back to Marthatown. Tell her I begged your assistance and promised our best efforts in return. She’ll get you an itinerent’s permit to settle.”

“And how would I earn a living, girl? You seem not to think of that.”

“Thought of it long since,” she grinned at him. “You could do messenger and freight service for the Council. They use wagoneers and show people all the time to carry messages and material from one city to another, and they pay for it. Or, if you’d rather stay close, they’d probably give you a grandsir job.”

“A grandsir job?” It was not a term he had heard before.

“A sinecure, Septemius. Some small thing that needs doing a few hours a day and leaves a man time free to do other arty-crafty things to suit himself. Additionally, you could have a garden….”

“Oh good,” said Kostia. “I’d like that.”

“And if your nieces chose to attend school, they’d get a grain and cheese allotment….”

“Really?” Tonia seemed impressed by this.

“And, once you’d lived in the itinerants’ quarters a year or two, you could petition to come inside the walls on the basis that your status is essentially the same as servitor, that Tonia and Kostia wish to establish residence, and that you’ve been stable long enough to indicate sincerity in wanting to stop this endless flitting about.”

“You women think of everything, don’t you?” he said, somewhat cynically.

“No,” she sighed. “But we’ve learned enough to know that we don’t get stronger by setting arbitrary impediments in the way of good people joining us. Kostia and Tonia would be assets, and we’re not fool enough to think they’d come inside and leave you out.”

Septemius found his eyes suspiciously damp. “So there are ways for men to get inside your walls besides the Gate to Women’s Country.”

“Old men,” she said. “Grayheads. Yes. Usually only if they have younger female family members. Though not always.”

“Not always?”

“Only five years or so ago, we took in an old man who’d traveled far north beyond Tabithatown. He had no family at all, but he had maps, good ones. We figured the maps paid his way.”

“And the dancing dogs?”

“Maybe the dogs will pay yours! I suppose they can dance as well inside the walls as out. We’re not about to decrease the number of species available, though we’d have to work out some kind of ration for them. What do you feed them?”

“Rabbits, mostly,” answered Tonia. “And mice. And little furry short-tailed things that come out at night. Septemius sets snares, and the dogs catch a lot for themselves. They eat grass sometimes, too, and berries, and bugs. And they’re not very big….” She was looking at Stavia anxiously.

“Don’t worry about it, girl. Breed them, let them have