Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [124]
‘You spoke well, young Laintal Ay, yet Aoz Roon was right in what he said. Or, if not right, not unreasonable. If Shay Tal spoke in the temple, she would become a priestess and be worshipped. We don’t want that – our ancestors got rid of the priests some generations ago.’
Laintal Ay knew Master Datnil for a kindly and modest man. Restraining his anger, he looked .down at the worn face and asked, ‘Why tell me this?’
Master Datnil looked about to see that no one was listening.
‘Worship arises from ignorance. Believing in one fixed thing is a mark of ignorance. I respect attempts to drum facts into people’s heads. I wanted to say that I am sorry you were defeated, though I don’t agree with your proposition. I would be willing to address Shay Tal’s academy if she will have me.’
He removed his fur hat and set it on the lichenous sill. He smoothed his sparse grey hair and cleared his dry throat. He looked about him and smiled nervously. Although he had known everyone in the room since he was born, he was unaccustomed to the role of speaker. His stiff clothes creaked as he shifted from one foot to another.
‘Don’t be afraid of us, Master Datnil,’ Shay Tal said.
He caught the note of impatience in her voice. ‘It’s only of your intolerance I’m afraid, ma’am,’ he replied, and some of the women squatting on the floor hid smiles behind their hands.
‘You know what we do in our corps, because some of you work for me,’ Datnil Skar said. ‘Membership in the corps is for men only, of course, for the secrets of our profession are handed down from generation to generation. In particular, a master teaches all he knows to his personal novice or chief boy. When a master dies or retires, then the chief boy becomes master in his turn, as Raynil Layan will soon take over my position …’
‘A woman could do that just as well as any man,’ said one of the women, Cheme Phar. ‘I’ve worked for you long enough, Datnil Skar. I know all the secrets of the brine pits. I could pickle myself, if need arose.’
‘Ah, but we have to have order and continuity, Cheme Phar,’ said the Master mildly.
‘I could give the orders all right,’ said Cheme Phar, and everyone laughed, then looked at Shay Tal.
‘Tell us about the continuity,’ the latter said. ‘We know, as Loilanun taught us, that some of us are descended from Yuli the Priest, who came from the north, from Pannoval and Lake Dorzin. That’s one continuity. What about continuity within the corps, Master Datnil?’
‘All members of our corps were born and bred in Embruddock, even before it was Oldorando. To many generations.’
‘How many generations?’
‘Ah, a good many …’
‘Tell us how you know this.’
He wiped his hands on his trousers.
‘We have a record. Each master keeps a record.’
‘In writing?’
‘That’s correct. Writing in a book. The art is passed on. But the records are not to be disclosed to others.’
‘Why do you think that is?’
‘They don’t want the women taking over their jobs and doing it better,’ someone called, and again there was laughter. Datnil Skar smiled with embarrassment, and said no more.
‘I believe that secrecy served a protective purpose at one time,’ Shay Tal said. ‘Certain arts, like metal forging and tannery, had to be kept alive in bad times, despite starvation or phagor raids. Probably there were very bad times in the past, and some arts were lost. We cannot make paper any longer. Perhaps there was once a paper-makers corps. Glass. We cannot make glass. Yet there are pieces of glass about – you all know what glass is. How is it that we are more stupid than our ancestors? Are we living, working, under some disadvantage we don’t fully understand? That’s one of the big questions we must keep in mind.’
She paused. No one said anything, which always vexed her. She longed for any comment that would push the argument forward.
Datnil Skar said, ‘Mother Shay, you speak true, to the best of my belief. You understand that as master I am under oath to disclose secrets of my art