Free Motherlines by Suzy McKee Charnas Page B

abilities of the families and Motherlines to settle, but a diplomatic matter: whether or not to accept the offer of some grazing rights from neighboring Red Sand Camp. Women feared that Red Sand would come around later – as they had done to another camp in the past – and say the grass had been a loan, and demand repayment. In such a discussion Nenisi Conor would surely speak.
    The tea bowl was handed round; Alldera sipped and passed it on. Listening was thirsty work. Sometimes she thought the Shawdens were chiefs because they could afford to serve endless rounds of tea to half the camp day after day. It was certainly not because they took the lead in anything.
    The slow, oblique movement of debate was mesmerizing. She remembered the way the men – and fems, imitating men – had decided things, quickly, by command. Here, anyone with something to say could speak, which made for long hours of exhaustion or entertainment, depending on the interest of a given case. Their ease at speaking their minds still awed her. She sometimes spoke herself now, of grass and horses, over the evening tea fire; she sought to share their free flow of conversation.
    She nibbled at a callus that had formed on her hand from the pressure of the rein. Many months’ work had made her a decent rider, but she was not yet familiar enough with horses to make one lie down and doze, like that Faller woman over there, so that she could curl up against its flank and stay warm. Never mind, by midday the sun would strengthen and they would all be shedding headcloths, shirts, breast wraps.
    At last Nenisi arose. No one interrupted as her calm, reasonable voice recounted the history of feeling between both camps. She said, ‘Sharu have ravaged our northern pasture. What will you do when you hear your horses wandering and calling in hunger at night in the Dusty Season? Our friends and sisters and cousins, our daughters and mothers in Red Sand Camp say, take this gift of grass.
    ‘Now, is Red Sand Camp the same this season as the Red Sand that broke down the walls of new wells sunk by Steep Cloud Camp because those wells were too close to Red Sand grass? Or is it the same as the Red Sand that gave forty horses to Salt Wind Camp the year that poison grass wiped out half of Salt Wind’s herds?
    ‘There are new families in Red Sand since both those times. How many here have sisters and other close kin now in Red Sand Camp that did not have them there five years ago; two years ago; last year? A woman is constant in her actions through her life according to her traits until at last she dies. But a camp changes all the time as its women come and go, and it lives forever.’
    When she drew her headcloth about her and sat down again, no one applauded. But speaker after speaker got up and gave another version of what she had said, until those opposed to accepting the gift gave in and made the same sort of speech themselves. One woman next to Alldera shook her head and murmured, ‘Those Conors are always right.’
    Alldera sat straight and smiling, warm with admiration, rejoicing in her own unbelievable good luck in having Nenisi for her friend.
    Walking with the black woman later – Nenisi was cutting reeds for arrows – Alldera said, ‘I’m proud to hear you speak at the chief tent. I wish you did it more often.’
    ‘Oh, women are perfectly able to do without the Conors’ nagging most of the time, and we don’t believe in wasting our influence or growing self-indulgent by too much talking. We take care to be selective. I could have mentioned today a time when Stone Dancing Camp women themselves behaved very badly toward a neighbor camp. Of course there was the excuse that we hadn’t yet recovered from one of the earth tremors that give this camp its name, but it was long before my time and no one really knows for certain what was in women’s minds … Anyway, bringing that up just would have caught everyone up in an old argument, and nothing would have