"Bradley,.Marion.Zimmer.-.Darkover.Anthology.11.-.Darkover.v1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bradley Marion Zimmer)

"And so he might have been," said Ferrika. "It is not his fault that he did as his father and grandfather had done before him. Be sure you raise your son better than that, to know what women need, and that women are human, too, and not slaves."
"But how can I raise my son to be anything at all?" Lora asked, finally bursting into tears, "when I must send him to be reared by Aric and turned into the very kind of man I most despise?"
"When does he go?" asked Ferrika.
"Day after tomorrow," said Lora.
"Why are you sending him? Why not keep him here?"
"It is required by the rules," Lora said.
"Whose rules? Tell me which provision of the Oath requires it?"
"I have been told since Loren was born that I must prepare myself to give him up to his father when he is five years old—"
"Yes," said Ferrika, "so they told you at Neskaya. In
the larger Amazon houses it is a solid rule, yes—many
boys of fifteen or more living under the same roof with many women, would indeed be disruptive. But tell me, are your two housemates pressuring you to send him away? Some Renunciates wish to be free of all male creatures, including little boys."
Lynifred turned from the fire and said, "No; I told Lora to defy the bastard and keep the boy herself. Marji feels the same."
"What I truly wish," said Marji, coming into the kitchen with Callie in her arms, "is that we could keep Loren, whom we all love, and send away Janna, who is turning this house upside down. I'm sorry, love; you know I love your daughter, but she's driving us all mad, and if she goes Cara's way, that's no credit to a House of Renunciates."
"She's right," said Lora, sobbing. "Why do we have to send a harmless baby away just because he's male,

and keep that one because she had the luck to be born a girl?"
Ferrika said, "Under most conditions, boys— especially tough street-reared boys—cannot be housed with women without trouble; I could tell you some stories—there was a time in Thendara House when we kept boys till they were ten, and the experiment did not work. Even their mothers were glad to see them go. It was not safe even for the younger girls in the house; and when we let the boys stay past puberty it was disaster. So in general conference it was decided that they should be sent away before five, and certainly before puberty. But in this, every house may make its own rules." And she quoted the Renunciate Oath.
"7 alone shall determine rearing and fosterage of any child I shall bear.' If it goes against your conscience to send him to his father, then, Lora, it is your duty to find a foster father or guardian for him who will not—as you said—turn him into the very kind of man you most despise."
"I thought it was part of the Renunciate law that my son could not live with me after he was five."
Ferrika smiled. "No," she said, "you are confusing the law for all Renunciates, and the house rules of each group. In the larger houses it is established that no woman may be forced to live with men or boys; but here you may make such rules for your house as you all agree on. You might even make it known, so that some women who are considering leaving the larger houses because they cannot bear to part with young sons, could come to you here—"
"It's a thought," said Lynifred. "If young men were to be raised by Renunciates, some awareness of what women really are and what men can be might some day go into the world outside the Guild Houses." She drew on her boots. "I'll take Loren out with me and teach him horse-doctoring, now he's big enough to spend a day away from his mother."
Lora thought, Lynifred could raise a man better than most men could; certainly better than his father could. She'll raise him to be strong, honorable, hardworking, and to understand that a woman can be so as well.

"What will my husband say?" she asked.
Ferrika replied gently, "If you care what he says, Lora, you are in the wrong place."
"I don't really care what he says," Lora answered, "but I dread having to face him while he says it."
"I think we all do," Marji said, "but we'll back you up. I don't think any magistrate would rule that he is more fit to be a parent than you."
"Send Janna to him," Lynifred suggested, "and if a year of being a kitchen drudge, wash-woman, and baby-tender for her stepmother—and worse, treated as if she had no brains—does not send her fleeing back to us here, then perhaps she deserves to stay in that world."
"But I couldn't bear to see Janna go back to that—" Lora began.
"If it's what she wishes, you cannot keep her from it," said Marji. "Because we want this life, we cannot demand it must be for her."
Lora bent her head, knowing that Marji was right; Janna must be free to choose as she had chosen.
"So," said Lynifred, "we are all here; shall we call this a House meeting, and pass a rule that boys may live here, if the women in the house all consent, till puberty, and that girls reared here must live a year outside the house before they take the Oath? It makes good sense to me."
"And to me," said Marji. Lora wiped her eyes and said, "I am not yet able to determine what makes sense to me. I am only so grateful that I am not to lose my
son."
"And your daughter," Marji said. "A year treated as girls are treated in, say, Neskaya village would no doubt, have brought Cara back to us. Janna will be back."
"I hope so," Lora murmured, but she was not so sure. Nevertheless if Janna wanted that kind of life she could not be denied it. And if other women came here with their sons, it could be a beginning for a nucleus of men raised not to despise women. That was worth doing whatever became of them.
"I agree," she said smiling, and began to cut leather for a set of boots for Loren. He. would soon need a scabbard for his first sword, too.

Knives
by Marion Zimmer Bradley
Marna shivered on the cold steps as she heard the bell jangle somewhere inside the house—this strange house which she had never expected to approach. The sign, she knew, said that this was the Guild House of the Comhi-Letzii; but Marna could spell out only a few letters. Her stepfather had told her mother that there was no point in teaching a woman to read more than enough to spell out a public placard, or sign her name to a marriage contract. Her own father had had a governess for her, insisting that she should share her brother's lessons. She swallowed hard, the pain like a knife at her throat, remembering her father. He would have protected her, when even her mother would not. No, she told herself, she would not cry, she must not cry.
She wondered which one of them would open the door; maybe the tall one she had seen at Heathvine, riding astride like a man, her little bag of midwife's supplies on the saddle behind her. I could have spoken to her at Heathvine, Marna thought. But then she had been too frightened, too intimidated. Her stepfather would
surely have killed her if he had suspected She
winced, as if she could feel his hard hands on her, the knife again, sharp at her throat. He had forbidden her to speak to the Amazon midwife, and emphasized the threat with heavy pinches which had left her upper arm bruised and blue.
She looked around apprehensively, as if Ruyvil of Heathvine might come around the corner at any moment. Oh, why didn't they open the door? If he found her here, he would surely kill her this time!
The door opened, and a woman stood in the doorway, scowling. She was tall and wore some sort of loose dark

garments and for a moment Mama did not recognize the midwife who had come to Heathvine. But the woman on the threshold recognized the girl.
"Is your mother ill again, Domna Mama?"
"Mother is well." Marna felt her throat close again in a sob. Oh, yes, she's well, so well that she can't risk losing that handsome young stranger she calls husband. She'd rather think her eldest daughter a liar and a slut. "And the baby, too."