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ceramic walls. Twenty minutes, said Clabert, and withdrew his head. The door shut, joining
indistinguishably with the wall around it.
Mary found herself standing on the faintly sloping floor, with the smooth single curve of the wall
surrounding her. After a moment she could no longer tell how far away the big end of the ovicle was; the
room seemed first quite small, only a few yards from one end to the other; then it was gigantic, bigger
than the sky. The floor shifted uncertainly under her feet, and after another moment she sat down on the
cool hollow slope.
The silence grew and deepened. She had no feeling of confinement; the air was fresh and in constant
slight movement. She felt faintly and agreeably dizzy, and put her arms behind her to steady herself. Her
vision began to blur; the featureless gray curve gave her no focus for her eyes. Another moment passed,
and she became aware that the muffled silence was really a continual slow hush of sound, coming from all
points at once, like the distant murmuring of the sea. She held her breath to listen, and at once, like
dozens of wings flicking away in turn, the sound stopped. Now, listening intently, she could hear a still
fainter sound, a soft, rapid pattering that stopped and came again, stopped and came again ... and
listening, she realized that it was the multiple echo of her own heartbeat. She breathed again, and the slow
hush flooded back.
The wall approached, receded ... gradually it became neither close nor far away; it hung gigantically and
mistily just out of reach. The movement of air imperceptibly slowed. Lying dazed and unthinking, she
grew intensely aware of her own existence, the meaty solidness of her flesh, the incessant pumping of
blood, the sigh of breath, the heaviness and pressure, the pleasant beading of perspiration on her skin.
She was whole and complete, all the way from fingers to toes. She was uniquely herself; somehow she
had forgotten how important that was ...
Feeling better? asked Clabert as he helped her out of the chamber.
Yes ... She was dazed and languid; walking was an extraordinary effort.
Come back if you have these confusions again, Clabert called after her, standing in the porch doorway.
Without replying, she went down the slope in the brilliant sunshine. Her head was light, her feet were
amusingly slow to obey her. In a moment she was running to catch up with herself, down the steep
cobbled street in a stumbling rush, with faces popping out of shutters behind her, and fetched up laughing
and gasping with her arms around a light column at the bottom.
A stout Carter in blue was grinning at her out of his tanned face. What's the joke, woman?"
Nothing, she stammered. I've just been to church."
Ah! he said, with a finger beside his nose, and went on.
She found herself taking the way downward to the quays. The sunlit streets were empty; no one was in
the pools. She stripped and plunged in, gasping at the pleasure of the cool fresh water on her body. And
even when two Baker boys, an older one and a younger, came by and leaned over the wall shouting,
Pretty! Pretty! she felt no confusion, but smiled up at them and went on swimming.
Afterward, she dressed and strolled, wet as she was, along the sea-wall promenade. Giddily she began
to sing as she walked, Open your arms to me, sweetheart, for when the sun shines it's pleasant to be in
love... The orchestrinos had been playing that, that night when
She felt suddenly ill, and stopped with her hand at her forehead.
What was wrong with her? Her mind seemed to topple, shake itself from one pattern into another. She
swung her head up, looking with sharp anxiety for the brown tangle of buildings on the mainland.
At first it was not there, and then she saw it, tiny, almost lost on the horizon. The island was drifting,
moving away, leaving the mainland behind.
She sat down abruptly; her legs lost their strength. She put her face in her arms and wept: Klef! Oh,
Klef!"
This love that had come to her was not the easy, pleasant thing the orchestrinos sang of; it was a kind of
madness. She accepted that, and knew herself to be mad, yet could not change. Waking and sleeping,
she could think only of Klef.
Her grief had exhausted itself, her eyes were dry. She could see herself now as the others saw her as
something strange, unpleasant, ill-fitting. What right had she to spoil their pleasure?
She could go back to church, and spend another dazed time in the ovicle. If you have these confusions
again, the Priest had said. She could go every morning, if need be, and again every afternoon. She had
seen one who needed to do as much, silly Marget Tailor who always nodded and smiled, drooling a little,
no matter what was said to her, and who seemed to have a blankness behind the glow of happiness in
her eyes. That was years ago; she remembered the sisters always complained of the wet spots Marget
left on her work. Something must have happened to her; others cut and stitched for the Weavers now.
Or she could hug her pain to herself, scourge them with it, make them do something ... She had a vision
of herself running barefoot and ragged through the streets, with people in their doorways shouting, Crazy
Mary! Crazy Mary! If she made them notice her, made them bring Klef back ...
She stopped eating except when the other sisters urged her, and grew thinner day by day. Her cheeks
and eyes were hollow. All day she sat in the courtyard, not weaving, until at length the other women's
voices grew melancholy and seldom. The weaving suffered; there was no joy in the clan house. Many
times Vivana and the others reasoned with her, but she could only give the same answers over again, and
at last she stopped replying at all.
But what do you want? the women asked her, with a note of exasperation in their voices.
What did she want? She wanted Klef to be beside her every night when she went to sleep, and when she
wakened in the morning. She wanted his arms about her, his flesh joined to hers, his voice murmuring in
her ear. Other men? It was not the same thing. But they could not understand.
But why do you want me to make myself pretty? Mary asked with dull curiosity.
Mia bent over her with a tube of cosmetic, touching the pale lips with crimson. Never mind, something
nice. Here, let me smooth your eyebrows. Tut, how thin you've got! Never mind, you'll look very well.
Put on your fresh robe, there's a dear."
I don't know what difference it makes. But Mary stood up wearily, took off her dress, stood thin and
pale in the light. She put the new robe over her head, shrugged her arms into it.
Is that all right? she asked.
Dear Mary, said Mia, with tears of sympathy in her eyes. Sweet, no, let me smooth your hair. Stand
straighter, can't you, how will any man "
Man? said Mary. A little color came and went in her cheeks. Klef?"
No, dear, forget Klef, will you? Mia's voice turned sharp with exasperation.
Oh. Mary turned her head away.
Can't you think of anything else? Do try, dear, just try."
All right."
Now come along, they're waiting for us."
Mary stood up submissively and followed her sister out of the dormitory.
In bright sunlight the women stood talking quietly and worriedly around the bower. With them was a
husky Chemist with golden brows and hair; his pink face was good-natured and peaceful. He pinched the
nearest sister's buttock, whispered something in her ear; she slapped his hand irritably.
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