The Dawnsinger: Chapter 1
Beginning the second of three novellas from the world of The Shattered Moon
For the full background to these novellas see the Introduction to Three Kinds of Now.
Read Chapter 2.
"I broke my Vow, and I've had to live with the consequences ever since. I can't say I regret it, but then again, if I'd made the opposite choice, I… well, I'll never know if I would have regretted that or not."
From 'The Sundering Wall'.
It had been a long day's teaching, but Jerya's fatigue vanished in an instant as she saw a familiar set of saddlebags resting on the chest that half-filled the little vestibule.
Though her bags were there, Analind herself was not, but Jerya knew where to find her.
Down at the baths, she rinsed swiftly under a spray of hot water, then slid in alongside Analind in the warm pool. They pressed brow to brow in the time-honoured greeting. Fond embraces and kisses were exchanged, but nothing more. The others in the pool were only vague outlines of pink or brown through the steam, but senior Dawnsingers in particular were expected to maintain decorum. Since Analind showed not the least inclination to move from the water, Jerya settled her mind to the notion that talk would come first, and then probably dinner. Other things would follow, sooner or later.
Just once, she thought, I would like to get straight to some vigorous love-making in the first five minutes. But she smiled, scooped water over Analind's head, ran her hand down the smooth wet scalp, and said, "Did you get the full North-East loop done?"
"Aye, can you doubt it? You know Master Evisyn would have my entrails for a saddle-girth if I neglected any of the farther-flung places."
This was a monstrous slur on the Master of Peripatetics; Jerya did not know her well, but from Analind's own reports and other things she had seen she knew Evisyn to be a woman who led by example and not by threat of punishment. It was also a rare piece of hyperbole from the usually moderate Analind. Jerya wondered if something were unsettling her. Well, they'd been lovers for sixteen years; she knew that if Analind had something on her mind she would get to it in her own good time.
She said only, "And how are things in Delven?"
Analind smiled, a certain half-sly, half-cheeky smile that invariably melted Jerya's heart. "Rocky."
"Tell me something I don't already know."
"What you meant was, how's Railu?"
"I care about the other folk of the village too, you know."
It was all banter, essential to settling back into togetherness after another long hiatus. But Jerya was also serious in her enquiry, and Analind well knew it. She knew that Railu held a special place in Jerya's heart. The obvious question, where would we be if Railu had remained here? was never spoken. They both knew that there was nothing to be gained in pursuing hollow hypotheticals and might-have-beens
"Railu seems much the same," said Analind now.
"You said that last year."
"She was much the same last year too."
"That's not really good enough, though, is it? You know and I know she should never have been sent there."
"You and I and every Healer in the Infirmaries."
"Stars above," growled Jerya, incensed as always by the whole subject. "I don't believe I'll forgive Perriad if I live to be a hundred."
Nothing she was saying was news to Analind. It wasn't even that Analind needed to hear it again; it was that she, Jerya, needed to say it.
She settled herself, gave Analind a covert squeeze under the water, drew out more detail of how Railu was faring. She seemed to have lost a little weight, Analind thought; she would never be lean in the way Jerya still was, but she looked healthy. She had found a new youngster to help her with the beehives now that Meladne was taken up with her second child. Railu's new helpmeet was called Sindri. Jerya had to admit the name meant nothing to her; well, this Sindri was only about fourteen, so had been born around three years after Jerya had left Delven, quite unaware then that she would never return. With an inward shiver, she realised that even Sindri's mother was younger than she was.
"I feel old," she complained, in a way that was not really a complaint.
"Nonsense," countered Analind. "We're in our prime. And speaking of primes…"
But they were interrupted at that moment by new arrivals, new greetings for Analind, a more general round of chat. Jerya wondered whimsically whether Analind had meant some sort of mathematical question, or wished to discuss the question of the succession to the Primacy, though she knew which was more likely. Analind rarely concerned herself with mathematical arcana.
Besides, she knew, as Analind surely did, who the principal candidates for the Primacy were. In that light, Analind could hardly fail to be interested.
It had been a great relief to Jerya, as a Tutor, that Perriad had seized the first opening on the Conclave and gone all-out to secure her election as Master of Records. Had she but waited a few years she might have become Master of Pedagogy instead. Even more satisfactory, her successor as Senior Tutor was Jerya's own mentor, Jossena. Subsequent repositioning among the Tutors—what Jossena herself had referred to in her sardonic way as a game of musical chairs—had ultimately led to Jerya's own elevation to First Tutor in Astronomy.
This position did not require her to spend additional time actually in front of Postulants and Novices; in fact, she probably had the power to reduce her own teaching hours. She had never had any inclination to do so, however, partly because she knew it would sit poorly with her fellow Astronomy Tutors, either of whom might reasonably have felt their claim to elevation equalled her own. In fact, neither voiced any complaint or showed any other sign of resentment, but Jerya knew that one or two in other subjects had voiced surprise.
Her Choosing had been highly irregular. This had been made abundantly clear to her within an hour of her first arrival in the College; she had often thought, since, that Perriad had been within a whisker of sending her away on the spot. If she had caught her on a different day, in a different mood, that might indeed have been her fate. She had never forgotten that, and neither, she felt, had Perriad, who had often looked at her as if expecting… something; Jerya had never quite fathomed what. In any event, any residual loyalty Jerya might have felt was rudely extinguished on the day Railu's assignment to Delven was confirmed. The last few days from then until Railu's final departure had taught Jerya just what 'bittersweet' really meant. Railu had been, or at least appeared, far calmer than Jerya herself on the final morning.
Her studies had suffered for some weeks after that, her motivation vanished. Eventually, Jossena had told her bluntly, "You're no use to anyone like this, Jerya, and you're not doing Railu any good either." Analind had said much the same thing, more gently but at greater length. Jerya had never been sure which had been more effective; probably she had needed both. She threw herself into work again, at first from a sense of duty, feeling that to fail would be to fail Railu; but as time went on she had begun to rediscover her love of learning. It was the winter at Kendrigg, however, that had really settled her on her life's path. It had been hard to disappoint Yanil, whom she loved above all other Tutors, but by the time she returned to the College she knew that it was Astronomy, not Mathematics, to which she would devote her life.
On that return she had tentatively suggested to Analind that they might share rooms, as they had briefly done before. She'd made the suggestion as a practical one; they knew they were compatible, even in the closer confines of Novice chambers, and the divergent schedules of a Peripatetic and an Astronomer meant that for eight or nine months of the year one or other of them would have the entire set to herself. It was unusual for a Novice to share with an Ordained Singer, but no one knew of any regulation actually forbidding it.
In any case, Jerya herself had been Ordained only eighteen months later, completing the journey from Choosing to Ordination in not much over two years, little more than a quarter of the normal time. There were a few who muttered (though not to her face) that she could not possibly have mastered all the requisite Catechisms after such a short span, but Jerya’s written and oral examinations had been as rigorous as anyone else's. Where she had received special favour, as she was ever ready to acknowledge, was in the amount of individual attention she had received from Tutors such as Yanil and Jossena; even, in the early days, and less comfortably, from Perriad herself.
Analind had been out on circuit for Jerya's Ordination, but had promised that they would 'make up for it' as soon as she returned. 'Making up for it' had started with dinner, Jerya being entitled for the first time to sit in the upper third of the hall. It had continued with more wine in the Secondary Common Room, and then Analind had introduced her to another of the privileges reserved for Ordained Singers; the baths. Some semi-drunken cuddling in the steam had threatened to outrage the decorum of the place and they had hastily retired to their rooms, precariously wrapped in towels and giggling like a couple of Postulants. When they woke in Jerya's bed the next morning, it had felt as if they been together, not for a single night, but for years.
There was a drawback to her elevation, of course; her administrative load more than doubled. No Tutor was exempt from marking and record-keeping, from monthly meetings to compare the progress of Postulants and Novices, from regular reviews of curriculum and methods. A First Tutor had all of these, plus meetings with her counterparts in other disciplines and of course the Senior Tutor; meetings which frequently saw much polite competition over resources and room-allocations.
As First Tutor in Astronomy, time at Kendrigg gave her licence to miss some of these, but that was a mixed blessing. As First Tutor she was also automatically Superintendent of the Observatory, and that brought a whole other set of responsibilities. Fortunately, the Lay Sisters who made up the Observatory’s permanent staff were a competent bunch, led by the very capable Rahille, a diminutive but forceful presence with terracotta skin and intense dark eyes. Jerya had often wondered why Rahille had chosen not to proceed to Ordination, but she understood that was one of those question you never asked without a very clear indication that it would be welcome. She could confidently leave all the business of ordering supplies, allocating rooms for visiting Novices and Tutors, and the rest of the minutiae, to Rahille and her team, but she was honour-bound at least to look over the detailed reports that they sent every month. Any technical issues that might arise landed squarely on her desk. This might include anything from a new levelling helix to a re-silvered mirror for one of the telescopes.
In summer, when there was less astronomy to be done, Kendrigg became a base for advanced teaching in Surveying and Cartography. This made it necessary to keep tabs on the inventory of sextants and theodolites and alidades, as well as pens and ink and charting paper, necessitating meetings with her opposite number, Skarat, who, like half the other Firsts, had once been Jerya's teacher.
And so the round of teaching and learning went on.
#
Jerya strove to divert bureaucratic work away from the times when she and Analind could be together, but the needs of her fellow Tutors and of her students could not be altogether put aside. One such occasion loomed the evening after Analind's return, swallowing the hours between classroom shift and dinner.
"I'm sorry, my dearest," she sighed as they dressed that morning. "I can't deny Skarat at such short notice." Analind, of course, was well used to these clashes and understood perfectly well; but this time Jerya sensed more than the usual air of resigned acceptance. "What is it, love?"
"Evisyn's having a meeting then, to finally settle whether she is going to offer herself for the Primacy."
"I thought it was already decided?"
Analind shook her head. "She hasn't officially confirmed her candidacy, but she only has three days left."
"And you thought I'd…?"
"I said I'd try and get you along."
"I really can't, love… but I'll gladly talk to her another time."
Morning in the apple-orchards, just after Dawnsong; trees heavy with fruit beaded with dew; dew silvering the grass and soaking shoes and skirt-hems.
“I am very happy to have a conversation with you,” said Jerya, “But I don’t know what you think I might be able to do. It isn’t as if I have a vote.”
Evisyn was easily as tall as Jerya, with a rangy stride, carrying a sense of suppressed energy. Bronze-skinned, a sharp nose gave her an almost hawkish look. She regarded Jerya with a keen gaze. "Let's leave that aside for now. My first question to you was going to be whether you would wish to support my candidacy anyway. I understand you might have reason to feel you owe a debt to Master Perriad…"
Yes, but possibly not the kind you imagine, was Jerya's first thought, but she began by saying, "If it weren't for her, I wouldn't be here at all. You know that my Choosing was highly irregular?"
"I was out on circuit when you arrived. Junior member of a troika, still a prentice… I heard something about it when I got back, but it wasn't the latest news by then.."
"Everyone knew anyway," said Analind, a pace behind. The narrow aisle between the trees was barely wide enough for two, never mind three.
"Perriad made me aware within the first minute how irregular it was; it’s obvious now that she was contemplating just sending me away again."
"I suppose that's hardly to be wondered at," said Evisyn. "Though I should say she seems to have made the right decision. You made First Tutor within ten years of Ordination, did you not?"
"Twelve," said Jerya.
"That's still impressive; but then you were Ordained only two years after Novitial Vows, and that's unprecedented." Jerya shrugged, because what was there to say? "So you might, as I say, feel indebted…"
"I might, but… has Ana also told you why I feel the debt has been erased? More than erased?"
"Ah, yes, Railu… If not the sole reason, certainly a significant one, why the Healers in general dislike Perriad, and why Master Berrivan is among those most eager for me to stand. Pray keep this to yourselves, but she has already impressed on me that, if I were to be elected Prime, I'd be in a position to move the Conclave to rectify that particular injustice."
There was a lot to consider there, but Master Evisyn was already moving on. "Well, what I really wanted to ask you is where you stand on a couple of matters; and perhaps also your sense of how your fellow Singers, and your students, feel about them."
Jerya could guess well enough what those matters were, and Evisyn did not disappoint her. "You know as well as I do that it's been eight years since we first heard of the arrival of the Duke of Selton and his companions. I'll not deny it was a shock to us all, nor that it was right to take due time to consider how best to respond. I wasn't a Master yet, only a Regional; and my region was the North-West, as far from Blawith and Varsett as you can get." Jerya knew the map of the Sung Lands well enough to know this was mild hyperbole, but it didn't negate Evisyn's point. "Five years and I never even got to set eyes on any of those men, any of our visitors from the lands beyond. Not till I was made Master."
She grumbled a little more. Jerya was learning something about Evisyn herself, but nothing new about the broader history. She remembered her own reaction on first hearing the news. Eight years ago, but the memory was still fresh. 'Shock', Evisyn's word, was inadequate; 'stunned,' for Jerya, had been closer to the mark.
What was shocking, she thought now, was how little had really happened since. As Evisyn had just said, the men—they were always men—from the Five Principalities had never been permitted to penetrate beyond Varsett. Privately, Jerya had occasionally wondered if any had ventured further, incognito. If the roles had been reversed, she could imagine herself doing something of the kind, or at least feeling the urge. As it was, as far as she knew, only the people of Blawith and Varsett, and a select few Dawnsingers, had even seen any of these men.
It was almost as Evisyn had read her thoughts. "It seems to me it would be very strange if we had nothing to learn from them—or they from us. And one of the reasons the Guild exists is to extend our knowledge and understanding… would you agree, First Tutor Jerya?"
"I spend as much time as I can find in trying to extend our knowledge of the stars—I have a particular interest in nebulae—and I'm also working with the artificers to give us better tools for the purpose."
It wasn't a direct answer, but Evisyn nodded as if satisfied. "Well, that's how I'm thinking. Whether it's a nebula millions of kilometres away, or what lies just over the mountains, we're here to learn. You don't teach from books three hundred years old, do you?"
Jerya laughed. "I do, actually… but only for comparison, to show how much we’ve advanced. But then I ask my students, 'Do you think the Singers who wrote this thought they knew all there is to know about the heavens?' And I hope they see the risk that we, now, might think, because we've come so far, that we have little more to learn. When really it's obvious…" She saw Analind's face and stopped herself. It would have been all too easy to stray into a lengthy disquisition on the different structures she had observed in nebulae, the constant tantalising sense that a better telescope would make everything clear. She jumped directly to that endpoint. "What if the Five Principalities have superior instruments? Should we deny ourselves any available chance to learn, because we object to the way they organise their affairs?"
It was true; what they had heard about society in the East was disturbing. There was slavery, a word which had meant nothing to her when first she heard it. It seemed, indeed, that women were effectively powerless, whether they were called free or slaves.
"Well, there’s another question," said Evisyn. "I don't deny it sounds abhorrent, but how well can we ever understand it if we don't see for ourselves? And beyond that… I spoke of learning from them, but why should they not also learn from us?"
She expanded this argument. Of course any exchange should be fair and equal. Of course great caution must always be exercised. But, with these provisos, did the Guild, and the Sung Lands, not have much to gain from a gradual extension of intercourse with the Five Principalities? And might the example of the Sung Lands also have some influence on the Five Principalities?
"Don't want to make you miss your breakfast," said Evisyn, turning back. "But may I share one more thought? I'm a traveller. From my first journey here, right after Choosing, I've loved to see new places. Being a Peripatetic has given me the chance to do much more of it; more than almost anyone, I suppose." She shook her head with a rueful smile. "The irony of being Master, still more if I'm elected to the Primacy, is that most of the time I'll have to be here. Believe me, if I only thought of my own satisfaction, I wouldn't be standing. But then I'd want someone as Master Prime who'd support deeper relations across the Sundering Wall. And if that came about, then I'd be moving heaven and earth to be in the first party to make that Crossing.
"But it didn't seem like there was anyone else who'd make that possible. You see the paradox? If I become Master Prime, maybe I can make that Crossing possible—but I won't be part of it. If I don't stand—or if I lose—then I'll have more freedom, but there won't be a Crossing for me to join."
She sighed. "Well, maybe in five or ten years, it might be possible for a Master Prime to make the journey; who knows? And maybe also in a few years…" She broke off, gave Jerya a raptor-keen look. "I hardly know you, First Tutor Jerya, but something tells me you're a traveller at heart too. You weren't Chosen at the usual age, you weren't conveyed here by a troika; you made the journey from Delven on your own, didn't you?"
Honesty obliged her to the correction. "I had one escort." And for all I know he's still living just down the hill…
"Hm. Well, I think… I was drawn to Astronomy too, as a Novice. And as a Peripatetic I've slept under the stars many a time. I think maybe you still travel in your imagination. In fact in your imagination you may travel further than any of us… But you said just now, 'what if they have superior instruments?' Jerya, how would you feel about going there to find out?"
Jerya could not speak for a moment. That was a prospect she'd never considered, and it was too big to take in all at once.
"Well," said Evisyn, "I dare say it won't happen right away, whatever happens in this election. First time, I should think we'll send a few Peripatetics, they're most used to rough travel, and let them get a sense of how it really is over there. Instead of always being dependent on what those men tell us… But, in a few years, if those first trips go well enough, who knows?"
Again she fixed Jerya with that direct gaze. "Something to think about, anyway."