Marion Zimmer Bradley - The Ruins of Isis

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The Ruins Of Isis

Marion Zimmer Bradley

1978

DOMINATION OR DESTINY

The women of Isis held fast to a near-extinct

culture of matriarchal rule. Deep within their

sacred ruins dwelled the Builders, an ancient

spirit-a spirit that spoke only to women.

Cherished and worshiped, their soft,

warming voices belonged to the ruins of a

race which seeded the entire Galaxy.

Now from the Planet Pioneer, Scholar

Cendri and her husband, Master Scholar

Dal, have come. Scientists... lovers. . .

man and wife. . .

Through them Isis itself, steeped in beliefs of

bondage and supremacy, will be tried before

its sacred forebears, in the sanctity of their

ruins-while cataclysmic forces gather to

proclaim it a new world--or no world at all.

Chapter one

THE PILOT OF THE SHUTTLE SHIP WAS A WOMAN. CENDRI

had been prepared for this--intellectually-but the

reality was a shock. A small, hard-bodied woman, hair

clipped short, a band of metallic cloth around her

breasts, another, wider, around her hips, low magnet-

ized shoes, and a small crimson badge pinned on her

shoulder-band. The observer in Cendri, the anthropol-

ogist she had been trained to be, asked automatically,

uniform? Badge of office? I didn't think they had a space

service of any kind, they have so little contact with the

Unity.

She wanted to clutch at Dal's hand, all the time

knowing perfectly well that this was the one thing, here

at the very entrance-officially-to the Matriarchate of

Isis/Cinderella, that she must not do.

The Pilot was waiting, with raised eyebrows.

"Scholar Dame Malocq?"

Cendri gathered herself together. Fortunately the

pilot took it for granted that the brief disorientation of

the transittube from the Unity ship had simply left

Cendri dizzy and, for a moment, unable to speak.

Cendri knew that the moment of truth was on her-

truth? The moment when the impersonation must

begin. She said, steeling herself for the lie:

"I am the Scholar Dame Malocq."

The pilot, gravely and unsmiling, made the formal

gesture-hands clasped before the face-which, on the

planets of the Unity, was the universal greeting and

mark of respect. Cendri wondered who had coached

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her.

"Welcome to the Matriarchate of Isis, Scholar

Dame." Again, with detachment, Cendri took mental

notes. They don't use the name Cinderella. She hadn't

really expected them to, though the name was still

carried double, Isis/Cinderella, in the Unity records,

and on University.

"And this-" the look the pilot gave Dal was cold,

clinical, impersonal; he might have been another

suitcase or travelpak, "-this is the Scholar Dame's

consort and Companion?"

Cendri nodded in acknowledgement. She and Dal

had made jokes about this; it had sounded like a

light-hearted imposture, a formality, a technicality.

They had laughed together about the rigid laws of

Isis/Cinderella, the Matriarchate. But before the un-

smiling, uninterested eyes of the young woman pilot, it

had suddenly ceased to be funny; and Dal was standing

behind her where she could not catch his eyes, even for

the momentary reassurance of the shared joke. She

said "Yes. His name is-"

But the pilot was not listening. "The Scholar Dame is

aware that the import of offworld males is technically

an infringement of the laws of the Matriarchate.

Concessions have, as the Scholar Dame knows, been

made to the respected status of the Scholar from

University; but certain formalities may not be waived. I

am required to fill out a declaration in the name of the

Scholar Dame." She whipped out a form and some

kind of writing instrument. "Does it have a property

tattoo?"

"Does it have-what?"

The pilot repeated, with well-concealed impatience,

"A property tattoo or brand, an unremovable mark

signifying permanent ownership and responsibility. Is

my command of the Scholar Dame's language insuffi-

cient? Would the Scholar Dame wish me to summon an

Official Translator?"

"No, thank you," Cendri said weakly, "the-the

term was unfamiliar, that is all. No, Dal is not-not

tattooed or branded. It is not-not our custom to

disfigure males."

The young pilot's shoulders lifted in a faint shrug,

without interest. "As I told the Scholar Dame, conces-

sions have been made to her respected status; this

requirement has been waived by special action of the

Pro-Matriarch, as a diplomatic courtesy." Somehow

she managed to convey, without the faintest change in

her inexpressive, courteous tone, that she felt this

cOncession had been a mistake. Cendri wondered if she

was being hypersensitive. She clasped her hands for-

mally before her face and murmured that she was

appreciative of the courtesy of the Pro-Matriarch,

wondering who the Pro-Matriarch was.

"Nevertheless, as the Scholar Dame certainly under-

stands, the formal declaration of responsibility, and

some form of permanent identification cannot be

waived, even for diplomatic purposes," the young pilot

said. "If you wish, we can be met immediately upon

landing by a malesurgeon, and arrange to have it

branded or tattooed upon the spot. The process is quite

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quick and extremely humane, and the marking can be

either inconspicuous or ornamental, as the Scholar

Dame desires."

Cendri blinked, looked helplessly at Dal, but-as he

had been carefully briefed to do-he was staring

straight ahead and pretending not to hear. The one

thing she could not do was to consult him. She had not

been prepared for this. She swallowed, and said, with a

firmness she was far from feeling, "We were not

advised of this requirement, and we cannot accede to it.

Since we are not intending to take up permanent

residence on Isis/Cinderella, it would not be suitable to

have him branded or tattooed."

What will I do if they insist? Bluff it out, threaten to

turn around and go back to University?

The pilot raised her eyebrows again, and Cendri

realized she had made two mistakes in one sentence.

She had used the name under which the planet was still

carried on the rolls at University, Cinderella. Even

more serious, she had made a mistake in language

against which she had been especially, and repeatedly

warned; she had referred to Dal as him, instead of by

the special neuter pronoun used for males except in a

specifically sexual context. The pilot was actually

blushing; and to apologize for the indecency was to

compound it. Better to let the pilot think Cendri

ignorant than vulgar.

The young pilot struggled with a nervous giggle as

she said "In that case, the Scholar Dame must arrange

for a temporary marking of some sort. It can be

marked-" she very faintly emphasized it-"with an

earclamp or collar tag, but the most effective method is

for a subcutaneous electronic implant in one testicle.

This is an excellent training and disciplinary device for

a male not accustomed to civilized restraints, as it can

be located and controlled at any moment. "

The implications of that swept Cendri with shock and

horror; but she managed, somehow, to keep her face

and voice calm.

"No, I think not; that would be quite excessive."

"I compliment the Scholar Dame upon her confi-

dence," said the pilot indifferently. "If she is willing to

be content with an ear clamp or collar tag-"

"A collar tag, 1 think, will be quite sufficient,"

Cendri said, and didn't dare look at Dal. Not for the

first time, she found herself admiring her husband's

courage, and the scientific curiosity which had prompt-

ed him to accept this subordinate position.

"-in that case, we can dispense with the attendance

of a malesurgeon," the pilot said, "I am licensed to

install an earclamp myself; I have done it many times,

and I assure you it would cause the male only tempo-

rary distress, if the Scholar Dame wishes for the added

security." Cendri shook her head, and the pilot,

although she looked doubtful, nodded in compliance.

She said, "I am also equipped with a diplomatic

collar-tag," whipped it out of a kind of utility pouch at

her belt, and locked it, on a narrow metal chain,

around Dat's neck; marked a number on it with a

carbide pencil. She said, "The Scholar Dame is, of

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course, legally responsible for any damage caused by

her property; does the Scholar Dame fully understand

that it is liable to be summarily destroyed if it should

attack any citizen of the Matriarchate?"

Cendri, in a daze, was wondering; how did we get

ourselves into this? But it was too late, now, to retreat.

The idea was ludicrous-that Dal was a dangerous

animal, likely to attack a citizen, and to be summarily

destroyed for it! The pilot's voice was pleasant, neutral,

but it seemed to Cendri to hold sinister menace. "Will

the Scholar Dame sign a form of legal responsibility?"

"Certainly," Cendri said, trying hard to steady her

voice, and scrawled her name on the form held out to

her. One part of her noted the ancient custom

preserved--On University she would simply have pre-

sented her Scholar's identity number for registration.

But she was light-years away from University, and a

good way outside the Unity itself.

Formalities concluded, the pilot favored her at last

with a smile. "We can get under way now, Scholar

Dame. I will signal the Unity Ship for breaking orbit in

minutes." Efficiently, she was stowing Cendri's luggage

in special compartments, carefully indicating a padded

seat, belts, restrainers. Cendri hesitated before getting

into it, looking anxiously at Dal, and the pilot

shrugged. "If the Scholar Dame is worried about her

Companion-you can put it in the seat over there, and

wedge it in with blankets. But I wouldn't worry. A few

bumps and bruises don't hurt them, you know; They

really don't feel things the way that we do. That is a

scientifically established fact, Scholar Dame, and we

have quite careful humane regulations to avoid acci-

dental harm to males."

Cendri gulped and wedged Dal carefully into the

indicated extra seat. She said in an undertone, "I'm

afraid it's going to be a rough ride." This kind of shuttle

ship was not very smooth even with proper restrainer

seats. Without them, she didn't like to think about the

surge away from the Unity ship, the long deceleration

down into the atmosphere of Isis/Cinderella.

Dal smiled, and the srnileheartened her. He said, in

a voice low enough not to be heard by the pilot, who

was getting into her own acceleration couch, "Relax,

love, we had this all out before we agreed to come here.

So far, I can cope with it. The shuttles on Pioneer

weren't very smooth, either, remember; it was only

when women started going offworld that we even

bothered with couches in the shuttles." He chuckled

softly, and the pilot gave him, over her bare shoulder,

an irritable glance.

Just as if, Cendri thought, the noise of a barking dog

had distracted her.

Yes, just exactly like that. . . .

Cendri got into her own couch, carefully fastening

the restrainer straps and pads. What Dal said was right,

of course. He had grown up on Pioneer, and among the

men of Pioneer, endurance of hardships of this kind

were regarded as a test of courage and manhood. He

was used to this kind of thing.

But he's not used to it now. . . .

She told herself, firmly, to stop fretting. Dal had

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assured her he would be all right. The pilot turned

briefly to check on her passenger, then spoke into an

intercom of some kind, evidently getting clearance

from the Unity ship and the port on Isis. Then she said,

"Brace yourself, Scholar Dame; the first surge is

powerful. After that the braking rockets will fire on a

count of three, after which we will spend approximately

four minutes in free orbit before we begin to decelerate

for landing. In slightly less than fourteen minutes we

will be landing in the city of Ariadne."

As she had warned, the acceleration surge away from

the Unity ship was forceful. Cendri, tense with anxiety

about Dal on his restrainer-free couch, felt the surge of

violent nausea as the violent reversing sensations

turned her dizzy, then sick with the weightless feel of

free orbit. The pilot, seemingly oblivious, whistled an

odd little tune as she concentrated on her work.

Cendri clamped her teeth in her lip, and thought, not

for the first time, FU never be able to handle this. Not

even with Dal's help. Never.

Maybe the Unity is right, not to give assignments like

this to women. I know I'm going to make a mess of this

one!

It's going to be rough on Dal if I fail at this-and

maybe worse if I succeed. Women on Pioneer are never

Scholars,' there hasn't been a Scholar Dame from

Pioneer in the history of University!

Cendri and Dal had met on University, the scholar's

world, where all the knowledge of the known planets of

the Unity was gathered in a single central location.

Cendri had been already a Scholar, then, while Dal was

still only a Student. At first-she knew it-the very

difference had intrigued the young man from Pioneer.

Cendri's own world did not regard scholarship in a

woman as anything so very surprising, and there had

been a few-though not many-scholar Dames from

her home planet, Beta Capella; mostly in education

and linguistics, but it was not really unusual for women

to excel in the social sciences.

She had found it intriguing when he had courted and

flattered her. She knew that she herself had been the

first woman he had ever known who was genuinely his

intellectual equal. She was flattered that he had turned

to her, rather than to one of the men, for help in finding

his way around the bewildering new world of Universi-

ty. And also, at first, she had been flattered that he had

tried to meet her on an intellectual level, as a fellow

Scholar, rather than as a man meets a woman. Later it

had seemed almost a slight, and when he had begun to

court her in earnest, she had felt relieved, as if, in some

way, he had confirmed the quality of her womanhood.

Soon sexuality had begun to shadow and compete with

their shared interests and tastes; and before very long

they were spending so much time together that it had

seemed logical to marry instead of maintaining separate

quarters.

They had been married, now, just over a year. Dal

had been preparing for his examination as Master

Scholar, and Cendri knew he was already regarded as

the most promising Scholar in the Department of Alien

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