XII.
NOW, about winter solstice, day was a pale glimmer, low in the south among steel-colored clouds. Tamara had
been walking since the first light sneaked across the ocean, and already the sun was close to setting. She wondered if space itself could be blacker than this land. At least you saw the stars in space. On Skula you huddled indoors against the wind, and the sky was a blind whirl of snow.
A few dry flakes gusted as she came down off the moor to the beach. But they carried no warmth with them, there was not going to be a snowfall tonight. The wind streaked in from a thousand kilometers of Atlantic and icebergs. She felt the cold snap its teeth together around her; a hooded cloak was small protection. But she would not go back to the house. Not till day had drained from the world and it would be unsafe to remain outdoors.
She said to herself, drearily: уI would stay here even then,
except it might harm the child, and the old man would come looking for me. David, help me, I donтt know which would be worse!ф
There was a twisted pleasure in being so honest with herself. By all the conventions, she should be thinking only of Davidтs unborn baby, herself no more than its vessel. But it was not real to her . . . not yet . . . so far it was only sickness in the mornings and bad dreams at night. The reality was Magnus Ryerson, animallike hairiness and a hoarse grumble at her for not doing the housework his way and incomprehensible readings aloudўhis island and his sea and his language lessons!
For a moment her hands clawed together. If she could so destroy Magnus Ryerson!
She fought for decorum. She was a lady. Not a technic, but still a professorтs daughter; she could read and write, she had learned to dance and play the flute, pour tea and embroider a dress and converse with learned men so they were not too bored while waiting for her father . . . the arts of graciousness. Her father would call it contrasocial, to hate her husbandтs father. This was her family now.
But.
Her boots picked a way down the hillside, through snow and heather bushes, until she came out on a beach of stones. The sea came directly in here, smashing at heaped boulders with a violence that shivered through the ground. She saw how the combers exploded where they struck. Spindrift stung her skin. Beyond the rocks was only a gray waste of galloping whitebearded waves, and the wind keening down from the Pole. It rolled and boomed and whistled out there.
She remembered a living greenish blue of southern waters, how they murmured up to the foot of palm trees under infinitely tall skies.
She remembered David saying wryly: уMy people were Northerners as far back as we can trace itўPicts, Norse, Scots, sailors and crofters on the Atlantic edgeўthat must be why so many of them have become spacemen in the last several generations. To get away!ф
And then, touching her hair with his lips: уBut Iтve found what all of them were really looking for.ф
It was hard to imagine that Davidтs warmth and tenderness and laughter had arisen in this tomb of a country. She had always thought of the religion ╬which so troubled himўhe first came to know her through her father, professor and student had sat up many nights under Australian stars while David groped for a God not all iron and hellfireўas an alien stamp, as if the legendary Other Race Out There had once branded him. The obscurity of the sect had aided her: Christians were not uncommon even today, but she had vaguely imagined a Protestant was some kind of Moslem.
Now she saw that Skulaтs dwellers and Skulaтs God had come from Skula itself, with winter seas in their veins. David had not been struggling toward normality; he had been reshaping himself into something whichўdown underneathў Magnus Ryerson thought was not human. Suddenly, almost blindingly, Tamara remembered a few weeks ago, one night when the old man had set her a ballad to translate. уOur folk have sung it for many hundreds of years,ф he saidўand how he had looked at her under his heavy brows.
He hath taken off cross and iron helm,
He hath bound his good horse to a limb,
He hath not spoken Jesu name
Since the Faerie Queen did first kiss him.
Tamara struck a fist into one palm. The wind caught her cloak and peeled it from her, so that it flapped at her shoulders like black wings. She pulled it back around her, shuddering.
The sun was a red sliver on the worldтs rim. Darkness would come in minutes, so thick you could freeze to death fumbling your way home. Tamara began to walk, quickly, hoping to find a decision. She had not come out today just because the house was unendurable. But her mind had been stiff, as if rusted. She still didnтt know what to do.
Or rather, she thought, I do know, but havenтt saved up enough courage.
WHEN she reached the house, the air was already so murky she could almost not make out whitewashed walls and steep snowstreaked roof. A few yellow gleams of
light came through cracks in the shutters. She paused at the door. To go in ў! But there was no choice. She twisted the knob and stepped through. The wind and the sea-growl came in with her.
уClose the door,ф said Magnus. уClose the door, you little fool.ф
She shut out all but a mumble and whine under the eaves, hung her cloak on a peg and faced around. Magnus Ryerson sat in his worn leather chair with a worn leather-bound book in his hands. As always, as always! How could you tell one day from the next in this den? The radiglobe was turned low, so that he was mostly shadow, with an icicle gleam of eyes and a dirty-white cataract of beard. A peat fire sputtered forlornly, trying to warm a tea kettle on the hob.
Ryerson put the book down on his lap, knocked out his archaic pipeўit had made the air foul in hereўand asked roughly: уWhere have you been all day, girl? I was about to go look for you. You could turn an ankle and die of exposure, alone on the ling.ф
уI didnтt,ф said Tamara. She exchanged her boots for zori and moved toward the kitchen.
уWait!ф said Magnus. уWill you never learn? I want my high tea just at 1630 hoursўNow. You must be more careful, lass. Youтre carrying the last of the Ryersons.ф
Tamara stopped. There was a downward slant to the ancient brick floor, she felt vaguely how her body braced itself. More nearly she felt how her chilled skin, which had begun to tingle as it warmed, grew numb again.
уBesides David,ф she said.
уIf he is alive. Do you still believe it, after all these weeks?ф Magnus began scraping out his pipe. He did not look at her.
уI donтt believe he is dead,ф she answered.
уThe Lunar crew couldnтt establish gray-beam contact. Even if he is still alive, heтll die of old age before that ship reaches any star where men have an outpost. No, say rather heтll starve!ф
уIf he could repair whatever went wrongўф
The muffled surf drums outside rolled up to a crescendo. Magnus tightened his mouth. уThat is one way to destroy yourself . . . hoping,ф he said. уYou must accept the worst,
because there is always more of the worst than the best in this universe.ф
She glanced at the black book he called a Bible, heavy on one of the crowded shelves. уDo your holy writings claim that?ф she asked. Her voice came out as a strangerтs croak.
уAye. So does the second law of thermodynamics.ф Magnus knocked his pipe against the ashtray. It was an unexpectedly loud noise above the wind.
уAnd you . . . and you . . . wonтt even let me put up his picture,ф she whispered.
уItтs in the album, with my other dead sons. Iтll not have it on the wall for you to blubber at. Our part is to take what God sends us and still hold ourselves up on both feet.ф
уDo you knowўф Tamara stared at him with a slowly rising sense of horror. уDo you know, I cannot remember just what he looked like?ф
She had had some obscure hope of provoking his rage. But the shaggy-sweatered broad shoulders merely lifted, a little shrug. уAye, thatтs common enough. Youтve the words, blond hair and blue eyes and so on, but they make not any real image. Well, you didnтt know him so very long, after all.ф
You are telling me I am a foreigner, she thought. An interloper who stole what didnтt belong to me.
уThereтs time to review a little English grammar before tea,ф said the old man. уYouтve been terrible with the irregular verbs.ф
