Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [163]
Aoz Roon flung out his arm. ‘No one leaves Oldorando without my permission. You’re not going from here until you grovel at my feet, begging to leave.’
‘We’ll see about that in the morning,’ Shay Tal snapped. She turned on her heel, clutched her loose dark furs about her body, and made off towards the north gate.
Dol was red in the face. ‘Let her go, Aoz Roon, drive her out. Good riddance. Pregnant cow, indeed, the juiceless creature!’
‘You keep out of this. I’ll settle this my way.’
‘I suppose you’re going to have her killed, like the others.’
He struck her across the face, lightly and with contempt, still looking after the retreating figure of Shay Tal.
It was the night period when everyone slept, though Batalix still burned low in the sky. Although slaves twitched in the dreams of dim-day-sleep, some of the free were still about on this occasion. In the room at the top of the big tower, full council was met, consisting of the masters of the seven old corps, plus two new masters, younger men from newly constituted corps, the harness and lorimers, and the outfitters. Also present were Aoz Roon’s three lieutenants and one of his Lords of the Western Veldt, Dathka. The Lord of Embruddock presided over the meeting, and serving wenches kept their wooden cups filled with beethel or small beer.
After much argument, Aoz Roon said, ‘Ingsan Atray, give us your voice on this question.’
He was addressing the senior master, a greybeard who ruled over the metal-makers corps, and who had as yet said nothing. The years had curved Ingsan Atray’s spine and turned his scanty hair white, so that the great width of his skull was emphasised; for this reason, he was regarded as wise. He had a mannerism of smiling a great deal, though his eyes, barricaded behind wrinkled lids, always looked wary. He smiled now, squatting on the skins piled on the floor for his comfort, and said, ‘My Lord, Embruddock’s corps have traditionally protected the women. Women, after all, are our source of labour when the hunters are in the field, and so on. Of course, times are changing, I grant you that. It was different in the times of Lord Wall Ein. But women also serve as channels of much learning. We have no books, but women memorise and pass on the legends of the tribe, as is seen whenever we tell the Great Tale on feast days—’
‘Your point, please, Ingsan Atray …’
‘Ah, I was coming to it, I was coming to it. Shay Tal may be difficult and so on, but she is a sorceress and learned woman, widely known. She does no harm. If she leaves, she will take other women with her, and so on, and that will be a loss. We masters would venture to say that you were correct in forbidding her to leave.’
‘Oldorando’s not a prison,’ Faralin Ferd shouted.
Aoz Roon nodded curtly, and looked about. ‘The meeting was called because my lieutenants disagreed with me. Who agrees with my lieutenants?’
He caught the eye of Raynil Layan, nervously stroking his forked beard.
‘Master of the tanners corps, you always like to air your voice – what have you to say?’
‘As to that—’ Raynil Layan gestured dismissively. ‘There is always the difficulty of preventing Shay Tal leaving. She can easily slip away, if so disposed. And there is the general principle … Other women will think … Well, we don’t want discontented women. But there’s Vry, for instance, another thinking woman, yet attractive, and she gives no trouble. If you could rethink your order, many would be grateful to you …’
‘Speak out and don’t mince your words so,’ Aoz Roon said. ‘You’re a master now, as you wished, and don’t have to cringe.’
Nobody else spoke. Aoz Roon glared at them. All avoided his gaze, burying their faces in their cups.
Eline Tal said,