The Warrior Rearmed

3

“That miserable cretin!” I snarled, staring around the empty, jumbled room in a towering rage. “That insufferable sneak! That lowlife! I’ll kill him! I’ll kill them both!”

I hadn’t been awake very many minutes, but remembering what had happened before I fell asleep didn’t take many minutes, and I knew what had been done to me. Garth and Len had taken advantage of me, and when I thought about how servile I’d been, it made me sick! That little extra had been Len’s doing, his idea of a good joke with Garth playing along!

I stalked over to the windows and pushed a curtain aside, seeing the fading, late afternoon sunlight turning patchy with small clouds, wishing I had Len and Garth there to throw out into it. Len had gone far with his experimentation, but he seemed to have changed his mind about experimenting on himself. He must have gotten the idea when he saw how tired and weak I felt, obviously in no condition to defend myself from anything. It had to have started when they first began pushing me around physically; I’d still been groggy from what Tammad had done, and reviving my emotions toward the barbarian would have been simple. I remembered wondering why I felt so brow-beaten by them, but I shouldn’t have wondered. Len was encouraging the feeling without my even suspecting it! Once that receptivity was established, a touch of fear made the need for absolute obedience a shoo-in, all of it generously laced with humble submissiveness and heightened physical need. I crumpled the sheer, delicate curtain in my fist, fighting the urge to pull all the curtaining down and stomp on it. I’d get even with them, somehow, somewhere, I’d get even, damned if I wouldn’t!

“Wenda, what has happened here?” Tammad’s voice suddenly came, and I turned to see him standing in the doorway, staring around at the wreck I’d made. “Has a storm blown through, or have you been attacked by savages?”

“Attacked by savages is more like it!” I snapped, ignoring the mess he was looking at. I’d thrown just about everything that could be thrown, the cushions, the tray and bowls, the small tables. “And they said it was what you told them to do!”

“Lenham and Garth caused this chaos?” he asked, in disbelief. “Did they find it necessary to pursue you about the room, battling each step of the way, before they were able to see to your needs? Are they less than the men I thought them?”

“They’re not men at all!” I snarled, dropping the curtain to take a step toward him. “Garth forced himself on me while Len twisted my emotions to suit their mood! You’re quick enough to jump on me when I tamper, but with Len doing it it’s perfectly all right! But why shouldn’t it be? Len’s male and I’m not!”

I turned back to the window and pulled the curtain aside again, my hand trembling from the fury I felt, the frustration and rage so thick that I had no idea Tammad had left the doorway until his hand gently touched my shoulder.

“No, it is not proper that Lenham has done such a thing to you,” he said, calm and quiet dominating him as always. “That you invite such treatment by treating others so has no bearing, for I will not see it done to anyone about me. As you were punished so will he be punished.”

I turned back slowly to look up at him, not really believing what I’d heard even with the verification so clear in his mind. My expression put a grin on his face, but very little amusement reached his pretty blue eyes. Beneath his usual calm were sharp, uncontrolled flickerings of somber determination, fading the grin after no more than a moment of life. He touched my face with one big hand, then took my arm.

“There is a decision I have come to which you must be made aware of,” he said, drawing me away from the windows and toward our fur-pile bed, the only thing in the room I hadn’t thrown every which way. We both sat down half facing one another, I wondering what painfully hard decision he had made. I could feel the pain of it even through the calm of his control, a pain he was making no effort to rid himself of.

“Wenda, it has come to me at last that my thoughts have been more concerned with myself than with the woman who is my beloved,” he said, stroking my arm once before taking his hand back. “My love for you is very deep, and when I learned that your love for me was the same I thought we would face eternity together, yet now I know this cannot be. My love has failed to convince you of its reality, and this lack brings you greater pain than I had thought it possible for a woman to bear. I have felt the pain, and now know my failure for what it is; it is for this reason that I have decided to give you up.”

The bleakness of his thoughts was loss-sharp and tears bitter, and for a minute I sat stunned, not knowing what to say. He wasn’t simply trying to impress me with well-advertised nobility, he really meant it. He was going to give me up.

“Well,” I said at long last, taking a deep breath to calm the quaver in my voice. He was staring straight at me, watching for my reaction, but I wasn’t sure exactly what that should be. “So you’ve decided to return me to my people after all. It’s undoubtedly the best decision you could have made. We never were really right for one another.”

I stood up from the bed and turned away from him, wrapping my arms about myself to fend off the chill of still being unclothed. It was his fault I wore nothing, and I’d be well rid of him. The only thing I still didn’t know was when he was taking me back.

“Terril, you misunderstand,” he said from behind me, a faint puzzlement touching him. “I said nothing of returning you to your people. Among my people, seeing to the well-being of wendaa is required of a man. Should he know that returning her from whence she came will bring greater hurt upon her than keeping her where she is, he cannot, in honor, return her. Should he have no feelings for her himself he will see her with another, yet he will not return her. Though I have deep feelings for you which often cloud my reason, I am nevertheless able to know what fate awaits you among your own people. I will therefore find another, upon my world, to band you.”

Again I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I turned back to stare down at him where he sat, so deep in shock that my mind had ceased to function. All I could make of what he’d said was that he was going to sell me. He was going to sell me!

“Wenda, how pale you have become!” he said in concern, standing quickly to put his arms around me. I slumped against him dizzily, barely knowing where I was, my inner voice demanding that I do something—anything!—to get myself out of that nightmare.

“You can’t mean that!” I husked, my voice producing itself without benefit of mind to direct it. “You can’t just—sell me, as if I were an animal or a piece of clothing! You can’t sell me, you can’t!”

Even as I said it over and over again, I knew well enough that he could do exactly that, sell me or give me away or any damned thing he pleased. Women were possessions on that world, and selling them was not only legal, it was routine.

“Hush, wenda, and do not concern yourself,” he soothed me, stroking my hair as he held me to his chest. “You need not fear the one I shall choose, for he will be worthy of you in all ways. I will begin looking about here, among Cinnan’s l’lendaa and dendayy, and perhaps will need to look no further. It is happiness I seek for you, hama, and I will find it.”

“No,” I moaned, shaking my head in a metronome sort of way. “You can’t do that to me, you can’t. It’s too barbaric.”

“It is our way and will prove to be the proper way,” he reassured me, concern still coloring his thoughts as he took me back toward the bed furs. “There will be a great emptiness in my life once I have found another to band you, therefore must I fill my memories to overflowing with the taste of you before that time. I shall use you at every opportunity, hama, against the time I may no longer use you at all, this instance being the first. ”

He took me down to the bed furs with him, his arms tight about me, his lips blocking off the incoherent sounds I was making. I still felt mentally numb, totally overwhelmed by what he had said; little wonder I was unable to consider and protest what he was doing. His hands caressed my body, relishing my nakedness, his mind humming and completely devoid of impatience. He fully intended taking his time, and that’s what he did. My body took a long while to acknowledge the presence of his hands and lips, but such an acknowledgment was inevitable. He had trained me to respond to him, and my body finally recalled that training, despite the absence of the mind that carried such memories. True awareness of what was happening came to me only when he spread my thighs and entered me, plunging deep in his usual manner of full possession. Even as I squirmed involuntarily to his presence within me, I blankly wondered what had happened to his swordbelt and haddin; I hadn’t even seen him take them off. He gathered me close to his chest and began to stroke slowly, his mind savoring the pleasure he felt and experiencing every bit of it as if it were the last time he would have me. I moaned and tried to struggle out of his possession, blurrily convinced that he should be listening to my words rather than using my body, but I would have had as much success freeing myself from a landslide, if not more. He tightened his hold enough to keep me where he wanted me and continued caressing me internally, his lips touching me wherever they were able to reach, one hand roving freely. I moaned again and lost the moan to a kiss, but I, myself, was not fully lost to the sensations being given me. Normally I would have been, but normality was a good long way behind me.

It took a long while before he was done, before he had everything he wanted. He seemed to know from the very beginning that my mind would not be giving him a deeper echo of what my body did, and he made no effort to try forcing, it from me as he had in the past. He merely used me with very deep pleasure and endless patience, then kissed me as deeply before withdrawing. Rather than just lie beside me, he held me in his arms, stroking my hair and idly touching my body.

“We have been asked to share the darkness meal with Cinnan and Aesnil,” he murmured, somehow knowing that my mind had been settled to a large degree by what had been done to my body. “You will serve me properly, as a wenda should, giving a pleasing impression to those warriors attending who observe you. Should there be one suitable among them, I do not wish him disinterested by unseemly behavior. I will see that he is fully informed of all of your faults before he bands you.”

“No,” I protested, distracted by his fingers gently squeezing my flesh. “You can’t allow someone else to band me as if I were a native of this world. I won’t allow it. I won’t obey either of you.” Suddenly that seemed to be my way out, and I repeated triumphantly, “I won’t obey either of you!”

“You will obey, wenda,” he chuckled, as though amused at the feeble protests of a very small child. “You will obey your l’lenda as all women do, else will you face his displeasure. You may rise now and straighten this room, then will you be taken to the bathing room and prepared for the meal. Your beauty will not be hidden beneath streaks of dirt and disarranged hair.”

“I won’t be prepared as if I were a sacrificial offering,” I argued, desperation allowing me the defiance. “You may he able to force me to obey you in other things, but you can’t force me to be pleasing to other men. This is where I draw the line, and I’ll stand behind it.”

“Have you not yet learned that you will be no other thing than pleasing to l’lendaa, simply because they are l’lendaa?” he sighed, moving his hand to my thighs. “Are you able to deny the manner in which you are touched? You gasp as I delve within you and cause you to squirm helplessly about, and this so soon after you were well and completely used. Are you able to resist my demands, are you able to force me from you? No more will you be able to deny any other l’lenda, no matter what stand you have vowed to take.”

“Stop,” I gasped, truly unable to resist him. The circular motion of his thumb drained the strength and will from me, a sorcery I had never been able to fight.

“Am I bound to obey you?” he asked, the amusement returning to him as he continued his ministrations. “Must I cease in obedience to your word?”

“Please stop!” I begged, writhing in obedience to his hand and will. “Please stop, please, please stop!”

“Much more acceptable,” he said with approval, slowly withdrawing his hand from me. I went boneless with relief as he did so, ashamed that I had had to beg but glad that I had done so, and then I gasped again, this time in surprise. Rather than let me lie collapsed on the fur, recovering, he lifted me from the fur and threw me face down across his knees. The leather he had used earlier was not available, so he had to make do with his leather swordbelt, minus its scabbard. This time it was a full dozen strokes which fell, one after the other, bringing my screams quickly and making them loud. The tears streamed down my cheeks as he finally let me crawl out of his lap, but I wasn’t allowed to crawl far. He took my arm and turned me back to him, then raised my face with one hand as the other wiped at my tears.

“You were instructed to put this room in order,” he told me gently as I looked up at him from all fours, replacing the tears he removed. “Your disobedience did not go unnoticed nor unpunished, nor will it again. Do you still wish to disobey?”

I stared at him very briefly before shaking my head, his swordbelt having removed all the defiance from me. I still felt defiant, but the throbbing ache in my thighs, bottom and lower back precluded doing anything about the feeling. He leaned forward and brushed my lips with his, showing me that he was pleased with the answer I had given him, then he let me go entirely. I climbed off the bed fur amid sniffles and began to clean up the mess I had made, wincing from my punishment but doing the best I could. If I hadn’t done so, I knew what I would have gotten.

Cleaning up the wreckage took longer than making it, but once it was done it was time to leave for the bathing room. For one frantic moment I thought I would be marched there naked, but the barbarian produced a yellow cloth wrap from the closet in the next room, and gave it to me to put about myself. He also chose the gown I would wear afterward, a pale, sheer lavender, then escorted me and the gown to the bathing room and its waiting female slaves. The three slaves listened to his orders with their foreheads to the floor at his feet, waited until he had left and closed the door behind him, then scrambled up to pull the wrap away from me and hurry me into the water. It didn’t matter what I wanted, only what he wanted, but that was the least of my problems. I told the slaves to let me soak for a while, turned the suggestion into an order in their minds, then leaned back to let the water ease my hurting body while I fought to straighten my thoughts.

As unacceptably unbelievable as it was, the barbarian really intended selling me. It made no sense of any kind, but that was what he was going to do. Despite the fact that he needed my abilities to help him consolidate his people, despite the bargains and agreements he had made with the Amalgamation, he was going to let someone else, some other barbarian, band me. For me, accepting the truth of that intention was like running through hip-deep mud, more nearly impossible than simply difficult. I just could not see myself being banded by anyone else, and that was an attitude I had to overcome. If I didn’t believe it I would do nothing to try to stop it, which would surely seal my fate.

I splashed some water over my shoulders and finally let myself wonder why he was doing it. Objectively it seemed to be a stupid move, but stupidity was a crime he wasn’t usually guilty of. He had to have something in mind, something that would benefit him more than my presence. To believe that he was doing it to insure my happiness was a belief I couldn’t allow myself. If I ever did, it would crumble the world, and I would never stop crying.

I was left to brood long enough to lose track of time, but the slaves couldn’t be kept away forever. They’d been commanded by a warrior and a master, and they had to obey those commands or face the consequences. I hated the thought of being prettied up for show, but my very recent experiences with the barbarian had convinced me that open defiance wasn’t the way to win against him. He had to find someone who was interested before he could sell me, and that was the key point I had to work on. How I was going to discourage interest with him literally looking over my shoulder I didn’t know, but I’d have to think of something. If I didn’t, it was totally my loss.

The slaves bathed me more thoroughly than I appreciated, then helped me out of the water and into a large drying cloth. The next room outward was less steamy than the bathing room, and gave my towelled hair a better chance to dry while the slaves rubbed lotions into my skin. The three of them giggled over the fact that I couldn’t sit without feeling swordbelt echoes, and I nearly fed them a replay of what the beating had been like before remembering that they were slaves who knew about such things from first-hand experience. I thought about having to live that sort of life forever, always forced to obey, always subject to punishment, and shed a few tears for all of us. The slaves, thinking they’d embarrassed and hurt me, immediately began pouring out sympathy and comfort, patting my shoulders and making soothing noises. Their misinterpretation of my feelings was hardly surprising, but the tender little scene tickled something at the back of my mind. It had to do with misinterpretation, but I didn’t yet know how misinterpretation could help me. All I could do was wait and see.

The slaves were very thorough in their preparation of me, and by the time they were finished I was finding it necessary to consciously fight off depression. My hair had been brushed until it shone, my face had been delicately pinched, and my body wore so subtle a fragrance under the sheer lavender gown that men were guaranteed to come closer to confirm it. I was being presented as a rella wenda, a silk woman more suitable for showing off and using in the furs than for normal, everyday chores, a dark-haired, green-eyed woman on a world of blue-eyed blondes. It was one way of saying that without my abilities I was just about useless to the men of that world, and also told me that Tammad had not changed his policy of always telling the truth. Any man who chose me would be told what I was, head to toes and through and through. If I hadn’t already hated that world, that was the point I would have started.

Leaving the bathing room for the corridor brought a double surprise, the first being that it was already dark. Torches hung flickering on the walls 0 around, their flames writhing to the heavy caress of the stiff, warm wind blowing all about. The skies were dark and starless, as though obscured by clouds.

“You are more than lovely,” Tammad said, coming forward out of the group of men he waited with to stop and look down at me. He and the others were my second surprise, as I hadn’t thought to find so large an escort. Most of the others were the barbarian’s men, but a handful undoubtedly belonged to Cinnan.

“Clearly worth the extended wait,” said one of the men I didn’t know, coming forward to stand next to Tammad as the others clustered around. “You will have little difficulty in finding one to band her, Tammad, yet not as she is. Few will approach you to discuss a five-banded woman.”

“I—seem to have overlooked that point,” the barbarian answered, his tone calm and controlled while his mind surged and billowed and fought to break through his restraint. His hands lifted toward my neck after a hesitation so brief I wasn’t sure there really had been one, and with one surge of his muscles the small-linked, bronze chain was gone from about my throat.

“Ah, considerably better,” said the man beside Tammad, and suddenly it seemed that a restraint had been taken, not from me, but from him and the others. The minds of the tall, blond l’lendaa had been humming as always, but as soon as the band was gone from me the hum became a growl. I shivered at the unbridled desire in the minds all around me, desperately fighting to keep from being overwhelmed, and took an involuntary step toward the barbarian. As his arm came up to circle me the growls eased off, dying down again to nothing but humming. I shivered a second time, leaning against the warmth of his body, and his arm tightened even more.

“The air has grown damp, and I do not wish to see the woman become chilled,” he said to the others, his tone still even and cordial. “Perhaps it would be best if we took no more time before proceeding to the apartments of the Chama.”

“Certainly,” agreed the man beside him, so amenable he was nearly jolly. “Those who await us will be pleased to have their wait shortened.”

His sparkling blue eyes touched me briefly with amusement, and then everyone was turning in the same direction and moving off, the barbarian and the other man leading the way, me between them. I’d had a lot of shocks that day, but apparently shocks don’t become easier to weather with increased frequency. I’d really thought I knew what it would be like to be offered for banding to the men of that world, but the reality had turned out to be like nothing I had ever experienced. They would not politely contend for my attention the way a group of Centran men would, there would be no civilized courting and pretty words and gifts. They would offer Tammad a price and wait to have it accepted, and then I would belong to them entirely, a possession they could do whatever they pleased with. It was out and out slavery no matter how many times the contention was denied, no matter how much tender concern filled buyer and seller. In only one way was the object of sale considered, and that one way was her relationship with her current owner. As the barbarian had said over and over, a woman who didn’t care to be with the man who possessed her, might be just the woman the next man was looking for. For him she would sew beautifully and cook deliciously, and be even more delicious in the furs. If, on the other hand, she did want to be with the man who was selling her, a change of ownership could prove to be more trouble than it was worth. The woman would cry, and do her work half-heartedly, and make the new man force her to feel something in the furs. It could be unpleasant as well as annoying, and many men would not

My train of thought came to a dead stop, and would have stopped the movement of my feet as well if the barbarian hadn’t had his arm around me. I had to quiet the surge of elation that told me I’d found my answer, the one way to discourage other men even with the barbarian watching me every step of the way. Misinterpretation had been the key, and I’d been blind not to see it sooner. If I handled it right it would work, and I had to handle it right; one mistake and I was done. The elation I’d felt faded to grim determination, but it was better that way. Elation has too much self-delusion in it, and what I needed right then was reality.

The walk to Aesnil’s apartment was much too long, but all the men were in a chuckling good mood by the time we got there. The corridors of the palace were designed to pick up every stray breeze in the hot, usually windless climate and intensify it to cool the inhabitants of the place, and the stronger air movement that had developed turned the place into a thing one step down from a wind tunnel. As soon as we left the sheltered area around the bathing room, invisible hands grabbed my gown and hair and tried to toss them off every wall and over every balcony. I snatched at the gown and tried to fight it down from my face, struggled to get the wide butterfly sleeves untangled from the skirt, pawed at the hair that whipped around my head and blinded me, too distracted to notice immediately that a silence had fallen over the conversations that had been going on around and behind me. The first thing I noticed was the return of the mental growls, and then the soft laughter came through, telling me every eye was riveted to my struggle. I know I blushed from disheveled hairline to bare toes, and the increase in laughter told me the men knew it, too. Not one hand came to help me fight the stupid gown down, not even Tammad’s, who was enjoying the show as much as the others. I did some growling myself as I quickened my pace toward the next sheltered area, but a lot of good it did me. By the time we reached our destination, every man with me knew beyond doubt whether or not I had a royal birthmark—anywhere.

Aesnil’s reception room was all red and silver, red-cushioned and draped, and silver carpeted. A short, broad-stepped dais stood directly opposite the double entry door, back against the far wall to allow enough room for the Chama’s guests to seat themselves on the fur carpeting and among the cushions laid on for them in front of the dais. The wide, well-cushioned area was occupied by no more than ten men, all of them strangers and therefore undoubtedly allied to Cinnan, who lazed above them on the broad step just below the dais top. As the denday who had banded the Chama Aesnil, Cinnan had a lot of power among his people, but the easy laughter he contributed to the conversation of the men on the floor below him showed nothing concerning that power. He was a man to whom power meant very little, therefore he felt comfortable with it. Unfortunately for a lot of people, the Chama did not view power with his eyes.

The Chama Aesnil lay stretched out on her side on the top of the dais, her long blond hair carefully brushed, her red gown neatly accenting her curves, her eyes down and deeply involved with the way the fingers of her hands pulled at one another. Even from the doorway I could feel her misery and fury, but not many people in her palace or country would have doubted she deserved to be miserable. Finding power a tasty dish, Aesnil had gorged herself on doing exactly as she pleased, sending innocent men to the vendra ralle, the arena, to fight for their lives, handing down decisions based on favoritism, and refusing to be banded by the l’lenda who had been chosen for her by and from among her dendayy. She had also blackmailed me into working for her, and had captured Tammad and Cinnan and declared them vendraa. I hadn’t had the easiest time in the world with her, but my feelings for her were friendship and love compared to the way the men felt. Cinnan had gotten some of his own back the day before, when his men and Tammad’s had freed them from the ralle and they had caught up to Aesnil and me, but he had a lot of things still pending between himself and the woman he’d banded. The last time I’d seen her she’d been determined not to give Cinnan any satisfaction he couldn’t simply take, which was bound to make things worse for her. When we appeared at the door Cinnan looked up with a broad grin of welcome, but Aesnil stayed as she was, unmoving and uncaring, leading me to wonder how successful she’d been.

“Tammad, welcome!” Cinnan called out, raising one arm in a gesture of expansiveness. “Take a seat where you will, and honor me by joining my repast. We have not yet celebrated our recent good fortune.”

“The honor is mine, brother,” Tammad answered, leading the way to a place among the cushions to Cinnan’s right. “A simple crust is a feast, when one shares it with friends.”

“And a feast not enough, when taken among enemies,” Cinnan agreed, completing what was obviously a well-known homily. He waited until Tammad had lowered himself to the silver fur carpeting and I had knelt beside him, then said, “I see you have done as you intended. The woman is no longer five-banded, therefore offers may be made for her. Has she displeased you after all?”

I quickly put my head down, as though deeply ashamed, nearly caught off-guard by the abrupt, unexpected beginning of the game I’d decided to play. Now that the first move had been made I wasn’t at all as sure as I had been that it would work, and small, invisible feet tiptoed up my nerve ends as my heart thumped a few beats. I could feel Tammad’s eyes on me, and his hand came to smooth down the blown-away mess my hair had become.

“She has not displeased me, Cinnan,” he said, his voice gentle and calm. “I have merely decided that she would be best off with another, and take the steps required. The doing is for the wenda’s sake, that and her happiness.”

“I see,” Cinnan acknowledged, faintly puzzled by the misery and disappointment I’d trickled to him and his men. They’d be convinced I didn’t agree with what was being done, but they’d also be convinced they could tell it just by looking at me. If any of them got the least idea I was using projections, I was dead; needless to say, I was being very, very careful.

Cinnan clapped his hands and serving slaves began entering, males and females wearing the Chama’s red and carrying food and drink. There was a rumor that Cinnan intended freeing as many slaves as he could and making them servants instead, but that was too big a job to be done quickly. It was said he would get to it as soon as he had Aesnil settled down, another big job that would not be done quickly. A male slave in tight red-leather trousers carrying a tray of silver goblets stopped in front of Tammad, but before he could take one I reached up slowly and got it for him. The look I gave the barbarian said I was remembering his instructions and obeying him reluctantly, but the emotions I projected to everyone else said I wanted desperately to serve Tammad, but was being very careful not to be too pushy. The barbarian grinned faintly at me where I knelt in front of him, knowing it wasn’t servility but the beating with his swordbelt that kept me from sitting, but none of the others in the room knew the same. With or without help they would all misinterpret whatever I did, hopefully getting the message that buying me would be a waste of time and dinga. They would picture me as being hopelessly and helplessly in love with Tammad, a woman ruined for any other man—if everything went right. If it didn’t, I didn’t even want to think about what would happen.

Naked female slaves came around with pitchers of wine, and I held Tammad’s goblet with both hands till it was filled full, then hesitantly handed it to him. The wine was that vile drishnak which I wouldn’t have touched for anything imaginable, and Tammad saw my hesitancy as taking care not to spill any of it on me. The others, however, got the impression that I wanted to take some of the drink that would so soon be inside my love, but simply didn’t dare. The combination of longing and intimidation was difficult to handle, but it was the only way to get the message across.

After the wine came the food, spiced meat chunks and stews and roast fowl and fried vegetables, and on and on. The first mouth-watering smells nearly doubled me over with hunger, but I overrode the hollowness due to how little I’d eaten that day and did nothing but feed Tammad and concentrate on my projections. Friendly conversations and a lot of laughter had been coming from the men in the room, but I’d been too busy to keep track of them more closely than just before a specific projection. That was the main reason for my startlement when one of the dendayy suddenly appeared right next to us, crouching beside me and in front of Tammad.

“I am Gallim,” he said to Tammad, his blond handsomeness growing with the friendliness of his grin. “I would look more closely at this wenda you offer for banding.”

“Certainly,” the barbarian agreed, as calm and casual as though he were offering a seetar. “Her name is Terril.”

“A lovely name for a lovely wenda,” Gallim murmured, looking down at me from his crouch. His mind was humming deeply, more than interested, and I felt the tendrils of panic curling around me. Why hadn’t he believed my projections?

“She seems fearful,” Gallim observed with a chuckle, putting one large hand to the side of my face. “How is she in the furs?”

“For the most part adequate,” Tammad answered, grinning at the furious glare I couldn’t help sending him. “Though her cheeks redden modestly, her shyness does not keep her from being as helpless in the furs as any man might wish. It is only when her temper is high that she must be taken with more than normal effort. You see how deep her fearfulness is, that it has already departed.”

The two of them laughed softly, showing me that I’d been tricked. Gallim’s mind had been no more than calm and faintly curious, but seeing my supposed fear disappear had given him immediate and deep satisfaction. He’d been suspicious of my seeming subservience, and had come over to find out for himself.

“She seemed to be filled with too little spirit to attract a l’lenda, not to speak of a denday,” Gallim said, his twinkling eyes still on me. “She is, however, a truly well-rounded morsel, made to be touched by men.”

His observation seemed to be a cue for his hands, which rose quickly to the sheer lavender covering my breasts. I gasped as his fingers closed gently on my nipples and I began to pull away, but suddenly Tammad’s hands were on my arms, holding me still. I writhed in the double grip without being able to free myself, furious and ashamed, growing even more furious when Gallim breathed a satisfied, “Ahhh.” The motions of his fingers had managed to harden my flesh despite the denial I was filled with, and his initial satisfaction grew even higher.

“It will indeed take an effort, but I now know she may be reached,” he told the barbarian, taking his hands back. “Perhaps she had best be fed now, for she seems somewhat pale.”

“Her pallor is from another source,” the barbarian said, “yet your impression agrees with mine. I foolishly expected her to speak of her hunger before this, yet her stubbornness is apparently too great. Take the food and eat, wenda.”

He released me and pushed a bowl toward me, either not seeing or ignoring the way I was trembling. I hated him so much right then I could have killed him, with my bare hands or any weapon I could find. Gallim straightened out of his crouch and began moving away, and I blundered against his legs as I jerked myself away from Tammad, trying to get to my feet to run out of there. It was like stumbling against a tree in the forest, painful to you but nothing to the tree. Gallim turned back to see what was happening, but it was already over. Tammad had moved with his usual speed, and I’d been pulled back to be held in his arms.

“No, wenda, do not struggle,” he whispered, stroking my hair in an attempt to calm me. “I will release you when you have regained control of yourself, not sooner. It is unseemly for a guest to act so beneath the roof of his host, even more unseemly for a wenda to do so. Calm yourself and I will release you. ”

“You let him touch me!” I choked, beyond reasoning with as I struggled to break loose. “You let a stranger touch me and you didn’t give a damn! I hate you!”

“Wenda, wenda, he is not a stranger,” the barbarian sighed, struggling to hold back some emotion he refused to let me see. “Should he find an approval from me to match his desire for you, you will become his belonging. He will then have the right to do more than put a hand to you.”

“No!” I whispered, choking on the word as I closed my eyes and shook my head violently from side to side. “You can’t sell me to him, you can’t!”

He held me even more tightly against him, trying to quiet me, but I couldn’t even quiet myself. The last time I’d felt so abysmally lost and frightened, I’d been a slave among the Hamarda. I’d been afraid I was going to be killed then, but I’d since discovered there are things worse than death. I was petrified at the thought of being sold to a stranger, so completely out of control I could no longer even think about the plans I’d made. My gown twisted against the barbarian’s body as my struggles grew wilder, and the background conversations and laughter died away.

“Tammad, what ails the woman’?” Cinnan asked, more concerned than annoyed. “What words does she speak?”

“She is upset,” Tammad grunted in answer, hard put to hold onto me without hurting me. “The words she speaks are in her native tongue, filled with anguish I am unable to ease. It is one reason among many that I seek another to band her. Perhaps another man will find it possible to ease her pain.”

“You may place her in our second sleeping room if you wish,” Cinnan offered, compassion strong in his mind. “It is unoccupied now, and will provide what privacy the woman requires to collect herself. It lies through that door.”

Tammad nodded and stood up among the cushions, taking me up with him then lifting me off the floor. I kept trying to hit him in the face with my fists, but he refused to allow me to do that. I was carried around to the right of the dais, through soberly sympathetic men, and into a small room. The room was dim with the light of only two candles illuminating it, and the barbarian looked around for a moment before taking me over to the pile of bed furs and putting me on it face down. Instead of moving away as I expected him to, he put his knee in my back and pulled my wrists behind me, an instant later producing a snapping sound. I knew what he’d done and I grew even more furious, pulling at the wrist bands he’d connected with a bronze clip, having no success whatsoever in parting them again. He reached down to my ankles and did the same thing to the ankle bands, then left me like that, face down and bound hand and foot, and left the room. He was punishing me for disobeying him about my behavior, I knew, but I just didn’t care. Even if he came back and beat me, I still wouldn’t care. I squirmed around, finding it impossible to get comfortable, and worked on believing that I didn’t care.

Less than a minute later I heard muffled sounds from the outer room, and suddenly became aware of what was happening out there. My outburst must have given Aesnil ideas; the sounds I heard were the vocal evidence of her own outburst, full of reproach and bitterness. I probed to find out who she was shouting at, and was startled to discover it was Tammad. The minds of the men in the room were embarrassed, except for those of Tammad and Cinnan. Tammad was his usual calm self with an undercurrent of annoyance darting through, and he wasn’t saying anything in answer. Cinnan, however, spoke for them both and with cold anger. He seemed to be lecturing Aesnil, or at least just beginning; the Chama didn’t give him a chance to finish. She interrupted after no more than a dozen words, her own words cold and filled with the bitterness in her mind. Whatever she said shocked the other men in the room, and filled Cinnan with frustrated desperation. Tammad was no more than puzzled, but everyone listening seemed to understand that Aesnil meant what she said. When her short speech was done, her mind trace faded away toward the other side of the room, most likely into the other bedroom. The men all remained silent for a moment, embarrassment and upset clear in their thoughts, then they spoke brief words of good-bye and began leaving the room. Tammad was prepared to do the same, but Cinnan spoke, probably asking him to wait, and once the room was empty except for themselves, Cinnan spoke to him.

From Cinnan’s tone of mind as he spoke, he wasn’t as relaxed and unconcerned as he had appeared when we’d first arrived. He seemed very much like a man who had thought he’d solved all of his problems, only to suddenly discover that his solution had generated new problems which might turn out to be worse than the old ones. Tammad listened with a good deal of sympathy, making occasional comments that were more observations than suggestions, then stopped to think about a question Cinnan asked. There was a certain faint reluctance in his thoughts, but he didn’t hesitate long before agreeing to Cinnan’s request. Cinnan was pleased and grateful at Tammad’s decision, and the two spoke no more than another moment before separating, Tammad fading out quickly, Cinnan remaining in range.

I put my cheek down on the top fur of the bed pile, disgusted with how tired I was. Between the work I’d done projecting to the twenty-five men who were now gone and the eavesdropping of a minute earlier, I was just about played out. I wasn’t tiring as quickly as I used to, but I couldn’t understand why mental work was so draining. It wasn’t like running or lifting things that were heavy—or maybe it was. Just as the bottoms of my feet had gotten used to my going barefoot, it was possible I needed to build up calluses and muscles in my mind, to increase my strength and endurance. It wasn’t an unreasonable supposition, but building up my mind would not be like building up my body. I wasn’t supposed to use my abilities especially around Tammad; doing it anyway while hoping he didn’t notice wasn’t a practical consideration. It would be like lifting weights under his nose while pretending to be napping. I moved in annoyance then pulled at the bands and link, adding frustration to what I already felt. Simply picking up emotions was like raising and lowering my arms during gesturing, but that was as much as I could do without being detected.

“You still seem disturbed, wenda,” Cinnan’s voice came unexpectedly, startling me with his undetected entrance into the room. I struggled around on the bed fur to watch him come closer, annoyed with myself for not keeping track of him. He carried a bowl of something with a wooden spoon handle sticking out of it, and stopped next to the bed furs to crouch in front of me.

“We will see this food within you, and then you may tell me what disturbs you,” he said, reaching a hand out to smooth my disarranged hair. “Often, a woman finds it difficult to speak to the man who possesses her, less difficult to speak to another who is willing to listen. I will listen, wenda and we will rid you of your upset.”

“Just so easily?” I returned, pulling my head away from his big hand. “With no more than a single discussion, every point of distress plaguing me will be seen to? How powerful you have become, Cinnan, and how awesome.”

“Woman, I do not care for your tone,” he said, his gaze hardening in response to my sarcasm, his mind hardening to match. “A warrior, should he be so foolish, may spurn the aid of another with such words, yet a wenda has neither the strength nor the weapons to answer the insult so generated. To answer courtesy with insult will bring you no more than a strapping.”

“Where you see courtesy, I see no other thing than condescension,” I said, putting my cheek back down to the fur in weariness. “Leave me be, l’lenda, for there are none upon this world who may aid me.”

“Your distress seems weighty indeed,” he mused, bringing more of his attention to the discussion and away from the distractions his mind had been filled with. “I had not intended condescension toward the one who assisted in my survival in the ralle, wenda. Should it be within my power, I would return that timely assistance, and sweeten your life as mine was sweetened. Is there nothing I may do to aid you?”

“Certainly,” I said, watching his broad, handsome face as his light eyes watched me. “Unbind me and return me to my people, and all debts between us will be done. That is the only assistance now capable of sweetening my life.”

“Ah, wenda, there would be little assistance to you in such an action,” he sighed, shifting slightly in his crouch as upset touched his mind. “Even were you mine to take where I willed, allowing you to flee whatever distress holds you would not eliminate that distress. It would follow though you fled to the farthest corner of the world, hold you though you fought with the very last of your strength. You must battle it now and find victory, else will you never be free of it.”

“There is little likelihood of victory when I must battle l’lendaa without number,” I shrugged, or at least tried to shrug. “As you, yourself, are l’lenda, I was foolish to speak of it. Now leave me be, for I am weary and wish to rest.”

I closed my eyes to dismiss his physical presence, but could hardly miss the sharp flash of frustration and annoyance that lit his mind. I knew I’d never get anywhere with him and was tired of wasting my time, but he wasn’t prepared to be reasonable.

“What foolishness do you speak’?” he demanded, putting his hand to my face to shake it, trying to get me to look at him again. “L’lendaa do not battle wendaa, they do what they may to assist them! Do you truly believe there are l’lendaa hereabouts who would not assist you?”

“Certainly not,” I answered, opening my eyes as he wanted me to. “Every l’lenda within reach would eagerly offer me the same exceptional assistance offered every other wenda, the same, noble assistance you, yourself, offered Aesnil. I consider myself truly blessed.”

He stiffened and drew his hand away, but instead of feeling anger or insult, bleakness seeped out of every corner of his mind.

“It was my wish to give nothing but love and happiness to Aesnil,” he said, the bitterness in his voice turning his mind raw with pain. “When I was chosen to band her my heart soared, for my desire for her was like a fire in dry woods, consuming all it touched in mindless need. I was content to be no more than he who banded the Chama, he who directed her dendayy in accordance with her wishes. And then did she direct that I be captured and sent to the vendra ralle.”

He put the bowl down, forgotten, and rose to his full height, his eyes seeing something other than the room as he began to pace. I flinched at the tortured emotions his mind poured out, regretting having broached the subject, but knowing it was far too late to stop it.

“How great my fury was, I have no need to speak of,” he said, walking out of my line of vision toward the room’s wide windows. “Had it been a man who had done me so, I would not have rested till his blood covered my sword. And yet—When I found her there, behind the ralle in the guard room, her life about to be taken by the swords of the three vendraa who had caught her—it was they whose blood I wished to see on my blade. My love for her is as great as ever, yet I cannot allow myself to forget what was done to me, nor am I able to allow her to continue in her previous actions. I gave her pain and humiliation, yes, yet far less than she had earned. She will continue to be punished till she is able to grasp the enormities she has committed, grasp them and regret them. It is a duty I cannot refuse to attend to.,,

He was silent then, his mind still in a turmoil but slowly settling down, and then he was suddenly on the other side of the bed furs, leaning across it to put a fist in my hair and turn my head to him. I gasped more in surprise than in pain, for he wasn’t really hurting me, and looked up into his eyes.

“And another duty I have been given is to see to your feeding,” he said, his light-eyed gaze directly on me. “Though you seek to distract me with argument and insult, I will not be distracted. Will you eat, or must you be punished and then fed?”

His mind wasn’t really like that of Tammad, but he seemed to share the ability to put aside his personal problems to concentrate on whatever job was at hand. He wasn’t simply threatening me to make me obey, any more than Tammad would have been simply threatening, which gave me very little choice.

“I have had enough beatings at the hands of l’lendaa,” I said, trying to sound saintly-brave but too tired to argue. “I will therefore do as you wish.”

“A wise choice.” He nodded, releasing my hair so that he might reach lower with both hands to the clip at my wrist bands. “As for the rest, you have clearly spoken an untruth.”

“What untruth?” I asked, now free enough to sit up. “Of what do you speak?”

“I speak of your observation upon the subject of beatings,” he said, walking around the foot of the bed to get to the bowl he’d left on the other side. He crouched down to pick up the bowl, then grinned faintly. “It is apparent to any man who speaks with you that the number of beatings given you has not been nearly enough. Had it been otherwise, the edge would surely have been taken from that weapon you use in place of a tongue. ”

He pushed the bowl into my hands then stood again, folding his arms in that unspoken-threat-while-waiting manner that seemed to be part of a l’lenda’s nature. The glare I sent him only broadened his grin, but he didn’t speak and neither did I. Being that close to even cold food had turned me ravenous, giving me something more important to do with my mouth than talk. I took the spoon and began using it, ignoring the smug satisfaction coming out of Cinnan’s mind.

I had gulped down almost the whole bowl of stew before Cinnan turned away from me to take his weapon off and put it on a table, then turned back to me.

“As you are to spend the darkness with me, you may now remove that gown,” he said, putting his hands to his haddin as he began returning to the bed furs. “Tammad has agreed to see to Aesnil, therefore will I see to you.”

“What a surprise,” I muttered, angrily. I wasn’t surprised, not even slightly, showing I’d known the truth from the very beginning even if I hadn’t admitted it to myself. It was the way that world worked, the world that Len and Garth liked so much.

“What words do you speak, wenda?” Cinnan asked, stopping next to the bed furs to look down at me. “I am unfamiliar with your native tongue.”

“It was nothing,” I said in Rimilian, not looking up at him. “I should by now be used to Tammad’s pursuit of duty.”

“It was scarcely his pursuit of duty,” Cinnan said, scooping his arms under me and throwing me to the far side of the bed furs before sitting down. “It was a favor I asked of him, brought on by Aesnil’s announcement that she will no longer be the Chama. A Chama cannot be given as host-gift to another by the man who bands her, though an ordinary woman may be. She must learn what it is she thinks to be, and compare it with that which she has always been. Perhaps she will even speak to Tammad of that which troubles her.”

I turned my head to look at him as he stretched out on the bed fur, feeling the way he took his own troubles and firmly put them aside until he saw the results of his plans and efforts. His eyes moved over me, appreciating what he saw, and none of it made the sort of sense I could deal with.

“Among my people, a man who feels love for a woman does not give her to other men,” I stated, not caring that I sounded accusing. “He also does not take other women to his furs, enjoying them in her absence. When a man does behave in such a way, it is clear to all that he feels nothing of the love for her he so loudly professes. ”

“What foolishness!” Cinnan laughed, surprising me by not being angry. “If a man tastes of no more than one woman, how is he to know that he prefers that one woman above all others? If he gives her to no man as host-gift, how is he to know she prefers him above all others? As to enjoying the woman in his furs, is he expected to be so boorish as to give the woman insult by dismissing her presence, or making her use a matter of duty alone? The woman is another man’s beloved, else he would not have given her as host-gift, or asked that she be seen to. Is she to be treated as ahresta wenda, one who is used only out of pity? How uncivilized a man must be to behave so.”

He reached over and drew the top of my gown sleeve down to my left elbow, running his palm slowly over the arm he had exposed. The deepening hum in his mind disconcerted me so badly that I barely felt the automatic outrage which developed over having Centran ways called uncivilized. It wasn’t the first time those over-blown barbarians had looked at Central and its doings critically, and it scarcely mattered that they didn’t know what they were talking about.

“Then perhaps you would be so good as to consider me uncivilized,” I told him stiffly, shifting back away from his hand and raising the sleeve again. “I dislike being given to other men for their use, no matter that the view is considered ill-mannered. I, myself, do not see it so, quite the contrary. Were I to keep silent regarding my opinions, you would have little pleasure from me.”

“And now that you have not kept silent, I will have much pleasure?” he asked with a chuckle, for some reason amused. “Wendaa, it seems, are much alike no matter their origins. Your words put me in mind of a wenda given me as host-gift when I visited one of our far, outlying provinces, a wenda taken elsewhere in battle, one who considered herself a warrior. She had worn the bands of men only a short while, and swore to have my life if I should use her. As wild and spirited as she was, her words were not idle.”

He chuckled again and pulled the sleeve off my right arm, then grinned wide as I hastily pulled it back up.

“Out of curiosity, I agreed to leave her untouched,” he continued, raising up on one elbow and turning toward me. “Though she attempted to conceal it, her disappointment was more than clear. Her concept of honor had forced her to speak as she had, a concept which had no bearing on her true desires. I then fetched a dagger and put it in her hands, gave her what moments she required to prepare herself, then proceeded to take her. She was unable to use the weapon I had given her, for I did not allow the use of it. In such a way was she taught that her use was not hers to give or withhold, no matter the ways of the people to whom she had once belonged. Once taught this lesson, she was magnificent in use, as are all women. Do you wish me to fetch a dagger?”

His stare was so direct that I had to look away, despite the fact that I felt disgusted with myself for doing it. If my ankles hadn’t still been linked together at the bands I might have tried running, but that would probably have been as useless as struggling. I’d been told my opinions didn’t matter in the least, not on any subject men had already decided about, the standard outlook of Rimilians. I stretched my mind out to see how far I could reach, testing the strength I had left, but that was another dead end. Cinnan was the only one I could pick up, which meant he was bound to notice if I tried tampering. I’d never be able to hold him, he’d still have his way, and then Tammad would find out. I shivered at the thought of what the barbarian would do to me, then shook my head in answer to the question Cinnan had put. He was quietly awaiting an answer, feeling nothing of impatience, but when the answer came he felt a faint stirring of upset.

“Wenda, it is wrong of you to fear me,” he said, his voice concerned as his arms circled me to draw me close. “Would Tammad have allowed me your use, were I the sort to bring you harm or pain? I had thought your reluctance haughtiness, yet now see I was mistaken. I will bring you only pleasure, for this you have my word.”

“Is pleasure not pain when it is brought about by force?” I asked, doing no more than resting my cheek against his chest. “Though I cannot hope to match your abilities, l’lenda, I do not fear you. I have abilities of my own which you cannot hope to match. I will not be bested by this world of yours, for that you have my word.”

“Wendaa!” he growled, annoyed. “There is no soothing their fears when stubbornness jumps in the breach! I see you, too, fancy yourself a warrior, but of another sort. Very well, then, warrior, let us proceed in such a manner. You have been told to remove your gown. Must the command be repeated?”

His hand was on my throat, raising my head to force me to look up at him, making sure I knew he was all through playing games. It was an attitude I’d been trying for, one I’d forced on him without the use of my abilities. If I were going to be raped, I wanted it over with as soon as possible.

“You hold me with the strength of a warrior, then condemn me for disobeying?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you seek to guarantee my disobedience’?”

“Disobedience is clearly no unfamiliar state to you,” he growled, letting go of me as his annoyance increased. “See to yourself quickly, else I shall find other things to do with you.”

His thoughts were just short of the sort of hardness which meant real trouble. I wasn’t trying to get myself a beating, so I squirmed around pulling the gown up, yanked it over my head, then turned to lay it down on the carpeting out of the way. That was when I saw the flash of lightning outside the windows, a silent triple-crackling that lit the darkness in jagged lines before disappearing as quickly as it had come. I stared at the darkened windows, sure it had been heat lightning, and then, from very far away, a rumbling answered the signal of light, speaking of its impending approach.

“The storms will be here by daylight,” Cinnan said, obviously having followed my stare. “It is the time of their usual coming, and they are expected. Do you fear the fury of such storms?”

“No,” I lied, quickly turning my back on the windows. “I merely find rainstorms filled with ill fortune for me. I simply dislike them.”

“I see,” he answered, putting his hands on my shoulders to urge me down flat beside him. He remained leaning on his left elbow, looking down at me where I lay.

“Well, why do you hesitate?” I snapped after a minute of being stared at and not touched. “Do you seek to make me feel ahresta?”

“I do not hesitate,” he said with a very faint smile, still making no effort to touch me. “I am not in the habit of taking a woman in my arms while annoyance fills my mind. I will not have any woman feel slighted when held by me. I would not give her such hurt.”

I felt my hands curl into fists at my sides, underlining my need to scream out that it wasn’t fair. I would have shouted it, but he would have laughed at me, giving back what he had gotten. He’d realized that I’d gotten him annoyed on purpose, and he was trying to punish me for it.

“You may calm yourself or not as you wish,” I said, staring up at him with all the furious outrage I felt. “In the end, it will make no difference at all. I have decided that you will have no pleasure from me.”

“Have you, indeed, wenda,” he murmured, reaching a hand out to touch my face gently. “I believe you have already been told which decisions are yours and which are not. Tammad has asked that I see to you and I shall do so, with proper care and tenderness as well as the thoroughness he expects. It is my duty to do so.”

“Alas, Cinnan denday, your duty is fated to be left undone,” I countered, ignoring his hand as I locked eyes with him. I knew he’d never leave me alone of his own accord, and I couldn’t stand being pushed around any longer. With the last strength I possessed, I forced my way into his mind and planted doubt so deep he was rendered impotent, for that night at least and hopefully into the morning. His fury finally drove me out, but not until it was too late to do him any good. At first he didn’t understand what I’d done, and his anger moved him to try using me harshly—until he realized he couldn’t use me at all. The shock in his mind was so strong it reached through the waves of exhaustion rolling over me, telling me he’d never had that experience before. He sat at the edge of the bed furs, trembling from the shock, and I couldn’t have done anything to ease his difficulty even if I’d wanted to. Expending the last of my strength had acted as a drug on me, sending me helplessly down into sleep. Even as my eyes closed I felt the stirrings of elation, knowing I’d won after all, knowing Cinnan would be unable to touch me.

The night was peaceful and quiet—but in the morning he told Tammad what I’d done.

I knelt to the side of the room, beside a wall, trying to make myself as unobtrusive as possible, flinching every time the lightning and thunder struck. The men in the room were laughing and talking over the storm sounds, drinking the drinks and eating the food they’d been served—that I’d served. It still hurt to move, but even more painful was opening my shield and picking up the barbarian’s continued anger, the fury he’d been feeling ever since Cinnan had told him what I’d done. Because of the storm, he hadn’t been able to make me cut the switch myself, but that hadn’t stopped him from using one cut by someone else. I’d been feeling justified in my efforts until I’d come face to face with him, and after that I’d just felt more frightened than I ever had before. The barbarian seemed to consider my efforts toward self-defense a personal affront to him, and his rage had nearly knocked me over. Explanations had been out of the question, just as impossible as trying to control his anger. In order to touch him I would have had to open my shield, but I’d had enough pain waiting for me. I didn’t have to go looking for any more.

A triple crash of thunder rocked the room, drowning out the conversations and sending me huddling closer to the wall. The reception room of our suite was large enough under most circumstances, but right then I could have used five times the distance between me and the windows. Slaves had replaced the sheer curtains with heavier, glazed cloth of some sort that seemed to be waterproof, but the cloth was still transparent enough to let me see the storm as well as hear and feel it. Thunderstorms had disturbed me for as long as I could remember, but the storms of Central were nothing compared to the violences of Rimilia. Even my shield seemed like no more than fine netting before it, through which flashed every troubled thought on the planet.

“Bring the pitcher of wine, wenda,” the barbarian called after the thunder had subsided to mere rumbles and growls, backdropping the thud of trampling rain. “My guest has emptied his cup and wishes to have it refilled.”

Without looking up I forced myself to my feet, took the pitcher from the small table it stood on, then walked with eyes down to where the men sat among the cushions. The barbarian was hosting an informal midday meat for Cinnan’s dendayy, a small party to which no slaves had been invited. My serving all of them wasn’t considered slavery, but then that was their opinion.

“Kneel here and serve me, wenda,” I heard from the man closest to the barbarian, the one who sat immediately to his left. I hesitated visibly when I heard the voice, recognizing the tones of Gallim, the denday who had been interested in me the day before. I’d seen him when I’d served him earlier, but he hadn’t been sitting right next to Tammad then. Having to keep my shield closed was handicapping me, nearly to the crippling point. I knelt slowly and tried to give my attention to his goblet, but he wasn’t holding it out.

“The gown you wear this day enhances your loveliness, wenda,” Gallim said, his voice warm and friendly. “Always have I felt that that color should be reserved for glorious flowers and desirable wendaa.”

He paused, obviously expecting some sort of answer from me, but the answer I would have made was on the barbarian’s forget-it list. The gown I wore was pink, his preference, not mine. I kept my eyes on Gallim’s silver goblet and didn’t say a word.

“Modesty is becoming in a wenda,” Gallim finally said when it was clear I had nothing to say, approval strong in his voice. “Raise your eyes to mine, little one, so that I may take pleasure from their beauty. Rarely does a man see eyes of such a green.”

I had no interest whatsoever in looking at him, but I also had no choice whatsoever. I raised my gaze from his goblet to his face, then discovered that I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. He was looking at me with that direct stare of the Rimilian warrior, deep, penetrating, evaluating and appreciating. I found a point beyond his left ear, and just stared at that.

“She is truly a great beauty, Tammad,” he said, putting his hand out to touch my cheek with his fingertips. “It is clear, however, that she has recently shed tears. May I ask what caused them?”

“She was soundly switched, Gallim,” the barbarian answered, his voice as calm as ever despite the increased pressure I could feel against my shield. “She shamed me before Cinnan, shamed him as well, and disobeyed my strictest commands. These are common failings with her, ones the switch has not yet cured her of. ”

“Unhappiness is a common cause for disobedience,” Gallim said, as though agreeing in some way with the barbarian. “I will not ask in what manner she shamed Cinnan, for the question would be improper if put to any save him, yet I would put the other question. In what manner were you shamed?”

“The woman was given to Cinnan in return for a host-gift,” Tammad said, shifting somewhat among the cushions. “Rather than give him the pleasure I wished for him, she gave him insolence and refusal. Were she truly one with me, my feelings would be understood and respected by her, shared in deed though thought disagreed. Those words, first spoken by our fathers’ fathers, are truth.”

But what about my feelings? I demanded silently, keeping my eyes to Gallim’s left. Don’t my feelings count for anything? Why can’t my feelings be understood and respected? Because I’m not a l’lenda? Because I’m only a woman?

“Indeed,” murmured Gallim, sparing me enough attention to move his fingertips down my face again. “And yet the truths of a man are often not the truths of a woman. She will, of course, be offered to Cinnan again.”

“Of course,” agreed the barbarian, the hardening of the calm in his voice making me ill. “He has agreed to honor me when this meal is done.”

“I feel sure she will not again attempt insolence nor refusal,” Gallim said, his voice warming even further with confidence. For my part I just closed my eyes, hurting much more than the beating accounted for. Another clutch of thunder struck, dinning and vibrating beyond sound, and Gallim’s hand came to mine on the pitcher.

“Perhaps you had best pour the drishnak now, wenda,” he said, tightening his hold on my hand to steady the pitcher. “I would prefer seeing it in my cup rather than upon the carpeting.”

Controlling the trembling seemed to be impossible, most especially as I couldn’t be certain about its cause. I didn’t care that he was giving me to Cinnan again as a further punishment, at the same time refusing me the right to defend myself. Why would I care? It wasn’t as though I wanted or needed his arms instead of a stranger’s, it wasn’t a thing to make any great difference. With Gallim’s help I managed to fill the cup with drishnak, then prepared myself to rise and go back to the wall I’d left.

“Remain where you are, wenda,” the barbarian directed, stopping me even before I’d gotten the skirt of the gown out of my way. “As my guest enjoys your presence you will remain before him. And you may refill my cup as well.”

I didn’t so much hesitate as brace myself against the latest salvo of thunder, then reached the pitcher to my left toward the goblet being held out to me. Gallim’s hastily replaced hand kept me from spilling more than a few drops on the carpeting, but neither he nor the barbarian remarked upon the incident. I set the pitcher down on the floor in front of me, folded my hands, then stared down into the tawny depths of the drishnak.

Not thinking wasn’t hard, but not feeling the thunderstorm was a different matter. The men took their time with the meal, doing more socializing than eating and drinking, occasionally calling me over to fill their goblets. That is, they filled their own goblets from the pitcher I brought, preferring to serve themselves rather than risk the unsteadiness of my hands. I felt besieged from all sides, hammered on, beaten, and in pain; I kept my eyes away from the men I approached, knowing they were looking at me in that way l’lendaa had, knowing I couldn’t even half-cope with acknowledging those looks. They were all so big and sure of themselves, looking at me as though considering what it would be like to have me in their houses and furs. I shuddered as the last one returned the empty pitcher to me, hating to be looked at like that even as I turned away from the looks. I was on display as available merchandise, hating that even more.

“Ah, Cinnan joins us!” called out one of the men, and I turned to the door that had just opened. Cinnan stood there, tall and broad in his blue haddin and well-worn swordbelt, a nod and a smile for everyone in the room—except me. When his glance passed me it took no note of me at all, as though I were invisible or beneath his notice. I felt no insult at being treated that way, just a sad regret that it wasn’t likely to last very long.

“Cinnan, you are most welcome to my apartments,” the barbarian said, rising to his feet as Cinnan passed me and approached him. “Will you join our meal for a short while?”

“My thanks but no,” Cinnan answered, clapping Tammad once on the shoulder. “It was not my intention to disturb you as you made the acquaintance of my brother dendayy. I would not have come so early, but other matters press.”

“Another time, then,” the barbarian agreed easily with a nod, then his eyes came to me where I stood in the middle of the floor. “Step forward, wenda, and present yourself to the denday Cinnan. As he has agreed to honor me, your presence will be required.”

“As it is you he honors, no doubt your own presence would be more fitting,” I said, not really believing I’d said such a thing even after the words were out. The pain of the storm had put me into a strangely detached mood, and even if I didn’t believe it, I discovered I also didn’t care. With that in mind I added, “I feel it would be rude of me to impose upon one who is so pressed for time. ”

Even as the men in the room erupted into laughter, I could feel my shield thickening almost rigidly with the increased pressure from beyond it. Tammad’s expression hadn’t changed, Gallim stared at me with disbelief in his light eyes, and Cinnan’s expression was quizzical, but I thought I knew where that increase of pressure was coming from; the barbarian never had appreciated my sense of humor. Tammad stirred where he stood and parted his lips to speak, but Cinnan beat him to it.

“Allow me to apologize, wenda,” he said, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the amusement of his l’lendaa. “It was not my intention to insult you by suggesting that there were other, more important matters awaiting me. No matter is of greater importance than the honoring of a brother through his wenda, nor the wenda herself. Come now, and allow me to apologize in a more-complete manner.”

He put his hand out toward me, a faint grin showing on his face, the chuckling of the other men in the room nearly drowning out the rain noises. I didn’t have to look toward the barbarian to know that he hadn’t moved or changed expression, nor had he any intentions of doing so. He had already given me to Cinnan, so what more was there to say? My hesitation was no more than a deep breath long, then I moved forward to where Cinnan stood.

“Why the hell not?” I said, thrusting the empty pitcher at Tammad, who took it without stopping to think about what he was doing. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll even enjoy it.”

“What does she say?” Cinnan asked the barbarian without looking at him, his full attention on me. I looked back up at him with something like drunken belligerence, an action which made him blink.

“Her tongue is at times too barbarous to translate,” Tammad growled, throwing the empty pitcher behind him with a gesture that matched the pressure on my shield. “No matter the meaning of her words, she will accompany you.”

“I was certain of it,” Cinnan smiled, putting his hand on my arm as he turned to the door leading to the next room. “Come, wenda. I already anticipate holding you in my arms.”

There was nothing I cared to say to that, nothing that would have done any good. I let Cinnan urge me along with him without resisting, and a minute later he was closing the door to the sleeping room behind us. He released my arm, giving me the opportunity to walk to the center of the room alone, something I did immediately. The thunder roared again outside the windows, sounding much louder in the nearly empty room, making me hug myself in an attempt to keep from moaning.

“Turn and look upon me, woman,” Cinnan said from directly behind me, having come closer without my knowing it. I turned slowly and looked up into his face, seeing the frowning, narrow-eyed inspection I was getting. “Are you ill?” he demanded, brushing the hair back from my face with one big hand. “Why do you seem so strange?”

“In my eyes, I am scarcely the one to be considered strange,” I told him, then looked down from his stare. “No, I am not ill.”

“Then you will find no difficulty in speaking to me of why you did to me that which you did,” he said, his voice hardened. “To treat a man so is despicable, low and vile. Surely you knew you would be punished for the doing?”

“Perhaps I no longer cared.” I shrugged, beginning to turn away from him again. “I have recently discovered a great many things I no longer care about.”

“You speak of my brother Tammad,” he stated, putting one hand on my shoulder to keep me from turning away completely. “He has spoken of how great the rift between you has grown, so great that he feels it best to allow another to band you. Though you seem more than eager to be free of him, a point he counts in favor of his decision, you have shown no interest in any other who would band you. A woman does not often act so, and I would know the reason behind your actions.”

“I am not a woman of your world, therefore you may not judge me,” I returned stiffly, still not looking at him. “As to the reason for my actions, they concern no one save myself. Even were I to speak of them to you, you would be unlikely to understand. ”

“I see,” he answered, his voice containing something of the stiffness mine had had. Then he took his hand from my shoulder and said, “In that event, we need pass no further time in talk. Take yourself to the foot of the furs and await me there.”

My mind darted around briefly, looking for a way out, but without the use of my abilities there was none. Too few steps took me to the foot of the bed furs, where I stood like the condemned awaiting execution. Cinnan waited until I got there before taking off his swordbelt and unwrapping his haddin, then he followed me over and stopped to look down at me. As soon as he was close enough I could feel the trembling begin again, the same thing I always felt with one of these l’lendaa. They were so damned big; how was it possible to say no to one of them and make it stick?

“For what reason do you fear me, wenda?” he asked, reaching out to slide the gown top off my shoulders and slowly down to my waist. “Do you continue to fear that I will cause you harm, despite my word to the contrary? Your hesitation would be more fitting in one who has never been touched.”

I looked away from him as he urged the gown down past my hips, unable to answer his question. To him there was nothing wrong in what he was doing, on the contrary it was a duty expected of him. If I’d tried telling him how I saw it, he would have laughed or thought I was crazy. When he understood I had nothing to say, he bent to lift me off the floor, then lay down on the furs and took me in his arms.

“It is clear you must be shown the truth of my words,” he murmured, beginning to move his hands on me. His sliding palm touched a still-aching welt just as the thunder crashed again, and I cried out in pain and clung to him, too scattered to continue keeping my reactions to myself. His arms tightened immediately in comfort, holding me to him, trying to calm the shaking.

“It is beyond me why certain wendaa must beg for punishment,” he said, his voice uneven as he held me close. “As slight as you are, a strapping must be nearly unbearable, no matter the care taken with it. Is obedience so impossible to you that you must choose pain over it?”

“From some men, pain is preferable to pleasure,” I gasped, my head whirling. “Pain will drive away the memory of his arms, the need for his body. From pleasure comes naught save an even greater pain, one impossible to guard against. With pain, one may hate without tears.”

“Ah, wenda, how is it possible to find no more than tears in pleasure?” he asked, something of pain to be heard in his voice. “What is this thing which stands between you and my brother, the thing which brings pain to you both? Speak to me of it, and perhaps I may aid you as you and he gave aid to me.”

I hate your world, I wanted to say, still trembling against him. If not for this world and its people, he wouldn’t have lied trying to make me work for him. If not for this world and its people, I would not be handed about among strange men, expected to please them. If he were a man of Central, he would be jealous of other men touching me, even if he didn’t have the backbone to do anything about it. He’d want to keep me for himself and he’d care if I slept with anyone else! He’d never arrange it himself, not ever!

“Wenda, I do not understand your words,” Cinnan said, and I realized he was trying to hold me still as I struggled in his embrace. I also realized I’d been muttering aloud, but that part didn’t matter. I’d been muttering in Centran, and Cinnan didn’t speak Centran. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, but it felt damned close to being drunk.

“My words—mean nothing,” I got out, well on the way to feeling suffocated. “Release me now, for I am no longer able to bear this.”

“You must bear it, and more,” he said, his voice as implacable as his arms were impossible to escape. “You have shamed my brother once, and I will not allow you to do the same a second time. You will serve me, wenda, and will find pleasure in the doing.”

I tried to add argument to my struggles, but his lips bottled up the words and refused them exit. With the way I felt, I would have sworn he’d be able to do nothing more with me than commit rare, but being somehow drunk had made me forget what l’lendaa were like. He began working on me immediately, his hands touching just so, his lips and tongue teasing, all of them caressing and heating; despite the pain of the storm and the beating I’d had, despite the drunkenness swirling me around, in no time at all I was lost to what was being done to me. It wasn’t fair for l’lendaa to have that sort of power, to be able to raise a woman’s needs and make her a slave to them, and I told Cinnan so as I kissed him. He chuckled softly and moved his hand on me, and I moaned and threw my arms around his neck. There was no doubt about the fact that he had me, but he wasn’t surprised; he fully expected me to react the way he wanted me to, and would have been surprised if I hadn’t.

Cinnan chucklingly shared the pleasure he made me feel, typically taking even more than he gave as most Rimilian men did, but as far as he was concerned he was only beginning. I couldn’t have disagreed with him on my own, but I wasn’t making many of my own decisions just then. I became more aware of being held by him, his arms tight about me as he stroked deep to satisfy us both, the satisfaction somehow becoming less and less with each passing minute. In its place the storm intruded, searing fireworks and deafening explosions battering harder and harder in an attempt to shatter my shield and mind. I had been sweating from Cinnan’s efforts and my own, but the sweat increased and turned clammy, making Cinnan’s massive arms and body under my hands and against my flesh fire hot. My head throbbed and I couldn’t breathe, and when I moaned with the heavy pain settling all about me Cinnan chuckled again, thinking my moan was one of pleasure. He leaned down to kiss me without breaking the stride of his lazy stroke, not yet ready to build toward full passion again, but I knew I’d suffocate during one of his sustained kisses. Desperately I jerked my face away, gasping for the air I needed so badly, and the laziness in the body above me suddenly disappeared.

“Wench, what ails you?” Cinnan’s voice came, a frown to be heard in it. “You have become pale, and your body trembles in my arms. Where is the pleasure you felt but moments earlier?”

I closed my eyes as I simply dragged in air, unable to answer him as the pain flared through me. It felt as though I were being flogged to death, whips striking from all directions around me. Cinnan’s hand came to my sweat-soaked hair, smoothed it once with a gentle motion, and then he withdrew from my body. I immediately began shivering violently, feeling the withdrawal of his body’s warmth as almost pain, barely knowing it when he gathered up the fur we’d been lying on and wrapped me in it. My eyes opened with a good deal of effort as the shivering began subsiding, showing me a sober, worried-looking Cinnan who held the fur about me. He smoothed my hair again in an almost unconscious gesture, then backed off the bed furs and turned toward the door to the other room. He was still four hurried strides from it when it opened, admitting a quickly striding Tammad.

“Cinnan, excuse the intrusion,” the barbarian began, “yet there is a matter of great—” His words broke off as he realized Cinnan was on the way out rather than being intruded upon, and his calmly worried expression changed to a frown. “What occurs here?” he demanded, a heavy edge to his voice. “What has she...”

“This is scarcely likely to be her doing,” Cinnan interrupted with an impatient gesture, stopping in the middle of the room as Tammad came up to him. “The woman has taken seriously ill, and I had intended fetching a healer. You will, of course, sit with her till his arrival.”

“Ill?” Tammad echoed, jerking his head around in my direction. “It was her assistance that I came for, as word has been brought me that Lenham has collapsed to unconsciousness after being taken by great pain. In what manner is she ill?”

“I know not,” Cinnan answered, following as Tammad quickly made his way over to me. “She was excellent in use, far better than I had expected, this despite her great initial reluctance. She glowed beneath me, filled with pulsating life—and then the life drained from her, and all pleasure as well. She became as you see her now, and I knew not what to do.”

“Terril, speak to me,” the barbarian urged, sitting down in front of me where I lay curled in the fur, sweating and in pain. “Tell me what has touched you and Lenham so cruelly, so that I might see to it. Have you been taken by the same thing? What is it?”

His hand wiping the sweat from my forehead trembled slightly, almost in time to the storm sounds beyond the window. I tried looking up at him, but couldn’t seem to focus my gaze; even holding my eyes open was painful. I licked dry lips from an even drier tongue, finding it difficult to answer even after making the decision to try.

“The—storm,” I whispered, too deeply wrapped in stabbing nails to even wonder if he could hear me. “The storm—such pain. Can’t hide from it. Can’t stop it.”

“What does she say?” Cinnan demanded, leaning closer. “Why must she continually speak in that barbaric tongue?”

“I much doubt that she realizes which tongue she speaks in,” the barbarian muttered, his hand searching for one of mine through the fur so that he might squeeze it gently. “She has told me that the storm brings her pain, and that she is unable to halt it. It is undoubtedly through her power that she is tormented so, yet I spoke of easing her. How am I to keep my word, Cinnan? How?”

“Tammad, brother, do not torment yourself,” Cinnan answered gently, putting a hand on the barbarian’s shoulder. “A man may do no more than his utmost, especially against those things he has no understanding of. It is possible I may be of assistance to you, yet I must first speak with Aesnil. I will return as soon as may be.”

He walked out of my line of vision for a minute, and when he reappeared going toward the door he wore his haddin and swordbelt again. The barbarian lay down beside me and took me in his arms, but even his presence didn’t do anything to help. The pain just went on and on, doubling me over and making me sick to my soul.

It’s impossible to know how long Cinnan was gone. The passage of time is always subjective, even with timepieces around. It had finally occurred to me to wonder why I was still conscious when the door to the room opened, admitting Cinnan and a number of other men. They all strode quickly to the bed furs, and Cinnan clapped Tammad briskly on the shoulder.

“Bring the woman and come with me, brother,” he said, his voice sounding eager. “I may have found the answer to her difficulty. ”

“How?” Tammad demanded, only glancing at Cinnan before lifting me and the fur off the bed furs. Being moved that abruptly hurt, but I hadn’t the strength even to moan.

“The inner fortress,” Cinnan answered, moving fast to keep ahead of Tammad. “I spoke with Aesnil, and discovered that there are chambers deep within which have no direct contact with the outer world. Should it be possible to shield the wenda from the storms, the place is there.”

“Cinnan, brother, you have more than my thanks,” the barbarian answered, his voice soft and even despite his hurry. “Should this take the pain from my woman, my debt to you will be unrepayable.”

“Do not speak foolishness, Tammad,” Cinnan laughed, shaking his head. “What else might one do than assist a brother? And I have already been repaid, with a sight I scarcely expected to see. When I spoke with Aesnil, the wenda appeared concerned over this one! She immediately offered the use of the fortress, and her own services as well! Perhaps she will become the woman of my heart sooner than I had expected.”

The barbarian grunted and said something else to Cinnan, but I couldn’t follow the conversation any further. We were outside the apartment and hurrying through the corridors, practically in the middle of the storm despite the coated cloth hanging across every normally open area. The crash and crackle of the thunder and lightning were the only things left in the world, black pain and yellow pain and every color in between. I strained and fought against it, and kept wishing that I could just give in.

And then the storm feeling was further away, no more than a matter of inches but far enough to let me breathe a little more easily. I forced my eyes open to see us entering a narrow, torch-lit area at the end of a short, narrow, delicate bridge piece, beyond which was a larger room, also torch-lit. Entering that place was impossible other than in single file, which gave the men carrying Len on a litter a good deal of trouble. Cinnan was already in the larger room, as were Aesnil and a number of female slaves, and as soon as I was carried in Aesnil gestured and began leading the way toward a heavy, closed door. The deeper we went into that place, the more the pain receded, the more it dropped to a tolerable level. I found less and less of a need to fight and struggle, even though I still hurt quite a bit. I took a deep, shaky breath, ready to try relaxing for the first time in hours, and instead passed out.