The Gate to Women's Country Read Online Free PDF Page B

flush again, and the sense to keep quiet. When she had left the room, Stavia asked, in wonderment, “Why would she say something like that?”
    â€œYour sister’s getting rather focused on a particular young warrior. Joshua tells me they’ve been exchanging notes from the wall walk. I expect they’ll have an assignation next carnival.”
    â€œWhy does that make her be rude about Joshua?”
    â€œThe young warrior is probably rude about Joshua—or rather about all the men who have returned. You know the warriors’ attitude toward servitors.”
    â€œI know they’ve got this sort of sneeriness, but I didn’t know it was communicable.” Score one off Myra, she thought.
    Morgot’s mouth quirked a little. “Well, seemingly it is. Though the course of the disease is usually brief. Perhaps Myra will get over it.” She put the tallow lamp in the center of the table, adjusting the wick to minimize the smoke. The soft colors of the glazed tiles gleamed in the lamplight, bringing highlights from the glaze of the soft clay plates and cups, the oiled wood of the spoons and two-tined forks. “Napkins, Stavvy.”
    Stavia reached them down from the shelf beside the window, each in its own carved ring. Joshua had whittled the rings himself—a dancing lamb for Myra; an owl for Morgot; a wreath of flowers and herbs for Stavia; and a funny goat for Joshua himself. At the back of the shelf were three other rings: a curled-up fish, a crowing rooster, a grasshopper. They belonged to Habby, and Byram, and Jerby. No one used them now except during carnival time when the boys were home.
    Joshua joined them for supper, taking his place at the foot of the table with a sigh. “I was glad to see evening come. Everyone in Marthatown either cut themselves or fell down and broke something today. The hospital hasn’t had this much business in months! On top of everything we had returnees.”
    â€œReturnees?”
    â€œAmong many other crises, yes. Two of them. One of whom was beaten rather badly, I’m afraid.”
    Morgot put down the fork she had raised halfway to her mouth. “That’s not allowed!”
    â€œOh, the boy said the attack wasn’t sanctioned by the officers. Just some of his peers, he said, acting out their hostility at him.”
    â€œNonetheless….”
    â€œYou should probably mention it to the Council.” He nodded in a particular, meaningful way which Stavia had always interpreted as a reminder to Morgot of something she was in danger of forgetting. A kind of “My dear, not before the children” expression.
    â€œYou’re quite right,” Morgot agreed. “Is he staying in Marthatown or moving on?”
    â€œHe’s chosen to move on. In about a week, I think. He’ll be well enough then to move to Susantown.”
    â€œI don’t blame them for beating up on him,” Myra said. “You wouldn’t catch my warrior friend acting like that!”
    â€œMyra,” Morgot said in a dangerously quiet voice. “Let us suppose it had been Jerby.”
    Myra flushed, started to say something, then subsided, looking both rebellious and confused. “It isn’t the same. Jerby’s only five!”
    â€œHe’s only five now. Do you mean you would not be glad to see him if he returned at fifteen? Think of Habby. He’s almost fifteen. Do you mean you would enjoy seeing him beaten by those who chose otherwise?”
    â€œWell, I wouldn’t expect him to act like a baby anymore!” she said unreasonably, her face red.
    Morgot shook her head, staring at the girl until she dropped her eyes. “I’ll mention the attack to the Council, Joshua. They meet tomorrow night, so it’s fortuitous timing. More vegetables, Stavia?”
    â€œPlease.”
    â€œMyra, more vegetables?”
    â€œI’m getting too fat,” she mumbled.
    â€œWhere did you get that