“Joshua is your father, Stavvy. He’s Habby and Byram and Jerby’s father as well. And, of course, since there is only about one fertile servitor to every three fertile women, and since there’s only one of Joshua’s quality for every twenty, he’s also fathered children for other women here in Marthatown and in other cities. I am at considerable pains to make myself take pride in that fact. It does not come naturally.”
“Does Myra know?”
“Of course not. As a matter of fact, Myra was born before I knew. That pregnancy was by artificial insemination, of course. Later, after I was on the Council and had been told, I took the trouble to find out who he was. Not anyone I’d ever met, and, as it later turned out, not a satisfactory sire. Almost none of his boy children return. We’ve stopped using him.” She might have been discussing the breeding of sheep or the crossing of grain. Her voice was as unemotional as a wind on a distant ridge, her light eyes fixed on something Stavia could not see. “I believe, however, that he was Chernon’s father as well.”
“How many of the women know?”
“Very few, actually. The women on the Council, of course. Very few others. We put clues here and there, for those with the wits to see them. Most women don’t know anything about it. We can’t risk telling the ones who talk too much. Or the ones who drink a lot during carnival. Or those who are still young and silly. Who fall in love with warriors….”
“How have you kept it a secret? How can you?”
“We medical officers work very hard, Stavia. It’s all in our hands. Who bears, who doesn’t. And when. And by whom. Haven’t you noticed that almost all of the Council members are medically trained? Most of the women don’t know what we’re really doing. A very few figure it out for themselves. Some are told, but not usually when they’re as young as you.”
“But you’re telling me.”
“When I found out you were pregnant, I told the Council they had to allow me to tell you. I told them I would resign otherwise. They fussed about it, but in the end they said to tell you the truth and demand your oath to be quiet about it, just as we all do when we’re told. You had given your oath once before, and kept it, so I knew we could risk your doing it again.”
“And if I didn’t?”
“You would never leave this room, Stavia. Because you’ve broken the ordinances and endangered us all.” And those strange light eyes were fixed on her now, filled with so much pain Stavia could hardly bear it.
“You would let them kill me, wouldn’t you?” she said.
“I wouldn’t ‘let.’” Morgot answered. “There would be nothing I could do. I might choose to go with you, but…. Oh, Stavvy, we’ve taken so long, worked so hard, sacrificed so much—our lovers, our sons….”
“You have my oath,” Stavia said quickly, without thinking about it, needing to get the words out if only to bring Morgot’s pain to an end. Later this would seem strange and bewildering. Now, in this soft bed, with whatever drugs they had given her, it felt right. Dreamlike, but right. “On my citizenship in Women’s Country, I swear. But why did they let you tell me?”
“They felt that since you had been forced and were carrying a warrior’s child, you should have the right to know the truth in order to make a choice whether to abort or not. That was over a month ago, however, and we’re afraid to do it now, even if you want to. It’s this infection…. we’re not really sure we have it stopped. I’d love to know what they beat you with. Something dipped in dung no doubt….”
“Why does carrying a warrior’s child make a difference?”
“One chance in twenty of a son returning if a warrior is his father. One chance in five if a servitor fathers him. Roughly. Given Chernon’s heritage, probably less than that.”
The dizziness came again, and understanding with it. Yes. She knew that. She had known that for a long, long time, without even realizing that she knew it. She had symbolized it, somewhere in that sick grayness, without realizing what it was she was doing. “We’re selecting, aren’t we?” she said. “And we’ll keep doing it, on and on, and the years will go by, and eventually, all our sons will come home, is that it? No more penis worshipers? No more trumpets and drums and games? What will we do then, Morgot?”
“We won’t have any more wars,” Morgot said, holding her tightly. “Theoretically. No wars at all.”
“Morgot…?”
“Yes, Stavvy?”
“Am I still not allowed to ask about… about that time?”
“Not until or unless you’re asked to serve on the Council, Stavvy. Despite what you’ve been through, you don’t know anything at all. Remember that. Nothing at all. You didn’t hint to Chernon, did you? You didn’t tell him…?”
“You had my oath,” she said sleepily. “I didn’t say anything at all. He said things to me….”
“Well, don’t worry about any of that. It will all be taken care of.”
“BENEDA WANTS to visit you,” said Joshua. “She and Sylvia.”
Stavia’s reply was a wordless cry of anguish.
“I know,” said Joshua. “But I think you should.”
“I’m supposed to make small talk with Chernon’s mother? His sister?” she cried in protest. “What have they been told?”
“Just that Chernon sneaked off to meet you in the south, and that he left you there, and you were subsequently injured. In an accident. A fall, we told them, on a rocky slope. They think the servitor who was with you rescued you. I wasn’t specific about who.”
“They’ll want to talk about Chernon. You know they will!”
“Oh yes, Stavvy. Yes they will. And you can tell them that the blow on your head gave you amnesia. You don’t remember anything at all about
