“But-what will it do to her? The riding, the weariness-” Jaelle began hesitantly, then dropped her eyes and looked away. Rohana thought, Has she laran? Even in the telepath caste of the Comyn, the Gift did not begin to show itself much before adolescence; a trained leronis could make educated guesses about a child Jaelle’s age, but it had been so long since Rohana had used her telepath training that she could not even guess about Jaelle. Now, when I need to know, the Gift deserts me…. Why must women have to choose between the use of laran and all the other things of a woman’s life?
She looked down at Melora, wiped out in exhausted sleep, and thought of the time when they had been young girls together, in the Tower at Dalereuth, learning the use of the matrix jewels that transformed energies; working as psi monitors, in the relay nets that kept communications alive in the vast spaces of Darkover, learning the technology of the Seven Domains.
There had been three of them, all the same age: Rohana, and Melora, and Leonie Hastur, sister to that Lorill Hastur who ruled now behind the throne at Thendara. Rohana’s family had insisted that she marry, and she had left her work in the Tower-not without regrets-and gone to marry the heir to the Ardais Domain, to supervise the great estate there, to bear sons and a daughter to that clan. Leonie had been selected Keeper; a telepath of surpassing skill, she was now in charge of the Tower at Arilinn, controlling all the working telepaths on Darkover. But Leonie had paid the Keeper’s price; she had been forced to renounce love and marriage, living in seclusion as a virgin all her life….
Melora had been given no- choice. Jalak’s armed men had seized her and carried her away to imprisonment and chains … rape and slavery and long suffering.
Rohana’s weariness was giving her strange thoughts. Did Jalak really change her life so much? Do any of us have choice, really? At our clan’s demand, to share a stranger’s bed and rule his house and bear his children … or to live isolated from life, in loneliness and seclusion, controlling tremendous forces, but with no power to reach out our hand to any other human being, alone, virgin, worshiped but ‘pitied….
Jaelle’s small hand touched hers lightly, and the little girl said, “Kinswoman … you are so white….”
Rohana quickly returned to reality. She said matter-of-factly, “I have eaten nothing. And in a little while I must wake your mother and see that she eats something, too.” She went with Jaelle to where the Amazons were sharing out food and drink; this time she diluted the wine with water from the well and found it sour but drinkable. Kindra went to look at the sleeping Melora and came back, saying, “She needs rest more than food, Lady; she can eat when she wakes,” and looked at Jaelle, saying, “You will be sunburned and saddle-sore if you try to ride in that nightgown, chiya. Gwennis, Leeanne, Devra, you are smallest, can you find the little one some clothes?”
Rohana was surprised and warmed to see how immediate the response was; all but the tallest of the women went at once to their saddlebags, searching, sharing out what they had, an under vest here, a tunic there, a pair of trousers (Leeanne’s, and even these had to be rolled up almost to the knees). Camilla, whose feet were slender, brought out a pair of suede ankle boots, saying, “They will be too big, but laced tightly, they will protect her while she is riding and keep her feet from the sand and thorn bushes.” They were embroidered and dyed, evidently her own holiday gear, and Rohana was more surprised than ever; a neuter, she would have thought, could hardly have maternal feelings.
Jaelle let Rohana undress her and clothe her in the strange garments, looking around hesitantly toward her mother but forbearing to disturb her. She did say shakily, as Rohana belted in the bulky long trousers, and began to lace up the pretty, dyed-leather boots, “I have always been told it is not seemly for a woman to wear breeches, and-and, I am almost old enough to be called a woman.”