The Warrior Rearmed

6

I had been awake for some time, but I hadn’t been able to get out of the wide, comfortable pile of bed furs. After a good long night of restful, peaceful sleep I was no longer tired or hurting much, but I still hadn’t been able to get up. The reason for my laziness was a thin silver collar and chain, one end of which was let into the smooth stone wall above my bed, the other end of which was around my throat. I’d pulled at the stupid thing, trying to force it open, but I’d seemed to have run out of luck. I was chained right where I was wanted, and there wasn’t much chance of getting loose.

I moved in annoyance to the accompaniment of chain tinkling, looking around the room again. It was a wide, bright room, but the combination of stateliness and barbarism made it incongruously unreal. The walls and ceiling were of a beautiful, polished marble, the tall, ribbed windows to the right gracefully matching their dignified presence. What didn’t match quite as well were the multicolored silks hanging on those walls and around those windows, the thick fur carpeting dyed a bright red, the piles of multicolored cushions, the small, carved-wood tables. The imposed decor spoke of the sort of people who had imposed it the sort of people who imposed their will on everything they touched.

I turned onto my stomach in the bed, feeling the soft, golden brown fur against my bare body, angrily knocking aside the silver chain. I might have been exhausted the night before, but I had no trouble remembering what had happened once we’d run into Daldrin—or Dallan, as his name really was. Aesnil and I had been handed over to the drin and his guardsmen without a murmur, no more than disappointment coming from the l’lenda who had been holding me, in reaction. The Prince himself had condescended to take me on his own seetar, and the men who had found us laughed when I’d tried hitting him in the face with my fists, then had ridden away. Aesnil had been silent and woodenly numb when she’d been given to the man Ferran to ride with, but she’d continued to hold her head high with a martyred look, like someone awaiting inescapable execution. Dallan, holding onto my wrists, had stared at her until the men who had found us were gone from sight and hearing, and then he had grinned.

“Greetings, Cousin,” he’d said, his amusement dry. “I’d had no idea you meant visiting here, else I would have arranged a proper greeting. Your loveliness and graciousness warms us as always.”

Aesnil had gone pale at the first sight of him, and her color still hadn’t come back. She’d stared into thin air while he’d been talking to her, and didn’t move or change expression when he’d done.

“I hear no matching words of greeting from you, Cousin,” Dallan had pressed, his tone still mild. “Such surliness is not to be understood—save that discomfort may be at the root of it. Of course! Excuse me, Cousin, for not having seen it and seen to it the sooner. Ferran, my cousin fairly swoons in this oppressive heat. Remove that cloth covering her legs, and allow her a breath of air.”

“No!” Aesnil had shrieked, losing her silence and pallor together, but yelling and struggling hadn’t helped her. Despite her screams and very evident embarrassment, her trousers were pulled off and tossed away. The shirt she wore came down to the middle of her thighs, but its presence hadn’t been the comfort it should have been. Her legs were long and lovely, and the laughter of the men all around us seemed to acknowledge that fact, making her blush even more deeply. Ferran had set her astride his saddle again and held her before him, and Dallan had chuckled when she’d leaned forward away from the man with a gasp.

“Much better,” he’d nodded, not missing the way she was then avoiding everyone’s eyes, rather than ignoring them, and then he’d looked down at me. “What has befallen you, wenda?” he’d asked, a frown replacing his amusement. “There has been so little of struggle and words from you, that I might have mistaken you for another. Are you ill’?”

“I am no more than weary,” I’d told him, moving my wrists in his hand as I’d looked up into his eyes. “Weariness passes much sooner than illness, therefore you would be wise to release us immediately. To wait till my weariness has passed would be foolishness.”

“Perhaps.” He’d nodded, pursing his lips to hide his faint grin. “And then again, perhaps not. In any event, we shall surely see. At the moment, we return to my home.”

They’d all turned their seetarr around then, but I’d missed the grand home-coming. Once we’d started moving I’d been attacked by waves of sleepiness, driving in at me from all directions. I’d tried resisting them but Dallan had been holding me to his chest, trying to make me as comfortable as possible. Unfortunately for me he’d succeeded, and the last thing I remembered seeing was a deeply embarrassed Aesnil, trying to keep her nearly bare bottom away from the grinning man who held her.

I turned to my right side in the bed furs, this time ignoring the chain, sending my mind out again as far as I could reach. I’d searched for Aesnil’s mind trace right after I’d awakened, but it hadn’t seemed to be anywhere in range. There were plenty of other mind traces out there, male and female alike, but all of them were from strangers. I gave it up in disgust, wondering if she was in the same place I was, wondering what was happening to her, then I began wondering what would happen to me.

Dallan and I hadn’t parted enemies, but we hadn’t exactly been friends either. I knew he wanted me, but he also had certain things to get even for; maybe if he decided he wanted me badly enough he’d forget about getting even, and I’d have a chance to work on him.

Five minutes later, all the worrying and planning I’d been doing was abruptly terminated by the opening of the door in a wall. If I’d been paying attention I would have known Dallan was close by, and his abrupt entrance wouldn’t have surprised me. I grabbed the fur covering me and pulled it up to my chin, and he chuckled as he closed the door behind him and came closer to put down the tray he was carrying onto a small table near the bed furs. I still wasn’t used to seeing him wearing the dark red haddin of a free man, and the sword hanging at his side was equally disconcerting.

“I am pleased to see that you have recovered from your weariness,” he said, grinning as he removed his swordbelt and put it aside. “When I placed you in those furs last darkness, you made no effort to hide your loveliness.”

“I was not awake!” I snapped, feeling the heat move into my cheeks. I felt like an idiot for blushing, but I couldn’t seem to help it. When the men of that world looked at a woman, there was nothing of the casual glance about it.

“I am aware of that.” He nodded, stopping at the side of the bed furs to look down at me. “Had you not been so soundly asleep—and so clearly in need of that sleep—you would not have found yourself alone in the furs.”

“You have not the right to touch me,” I said, feeling myself move back from that unwavering blue stare. “We aided each other when we both had need of aid, yet that need is no longer with us. Unchain me and return my clothing, and allow me to be on my way.”

“Your way has led you here, and will not lead from this place again,” he said, his mind warm as he spoke the words. “It was somehow clear to me from the first that your l’lenda would be unable to hold you, yet I shall find no similar difficulty. When you are banded as mine, wenda, you will not run from me.”

“And is this the manner in which you mean to hold me?” I demanded, raising a section of the chain to shake it at him. “I am not a slave to be bound so, and will take great pleasure in proving the fact to you!”

I began reaching toward him with my mind, angry enough to do to him what I’d done to those virenjj, but he must have been expecting the move. He suddenly came up with a blood-curdling scream that sounded like, “Hai-yah!” startling me out of my skin, at the same time diving at me. When his arms closed around me I did some screaming myself, not to mention kicking and struggling, but that didn’t stop him from pulling the covering fur away. I don’t know what I expected him to do then, hurt me, possibly, but controlling me was more what he had in mind. As soon as he touched me I should have known what he was after; unfortunately for the sake of thinking, I was too busy gasping and trying to get loose.

“Ah, I see you remember my touch, wenda,” he said, holding me down with his body as his hand worked between my thighs. “I, too, recall certain things, and therefore have no need of chains with which to hold you. Force me from you, wenda, cause me to lose my desire for you as you once did.”

His tone was mocking then, knowing as he did that he had already rattled me out of the control I needed for projection. His body was hard and warm against mine, his mind growling low in pleasure, his free hand coiling in my hair. I tried to ignore what he was doing to me and pull together the necessary calm the control required, but it was patently impossible. My body had been trained to respond immediately to those Rimilian beasts, and I hadn’t been given the time to forget that training. My hands closed on biceps like metal as I shuddered and closed my eyes, and Dallan laughed low, then pulled my head back by the hair so that his lips could reach my throat.

“You cannot force me from you for I know the means to control you,” he murmured, ignoring the way my fingernails dug into his arms. “Also, I believe I know another thing. Why do you travel in company with the Chama Aesnil? She is able to give you no assistance, no more than unnecessary hindrance and distraction. For what reason did you continue all this way with her?”

“Please, no more!” I whispered, unable to control my writhing. “Daldrin, please, I beg you!”

“I am Dallan,” he answered with vast amusement, “a man who knows full well your recent intentions toward him. You melt to my touch, wenda, yet shall you continue in dire straits for a time, as a beginning to your punishment. You may now answer my question.”

“I . . . I merely followed Aesnil,” I gasped, understanding nothing of what he wanted, only what he was doing to me. “She is fam—familiar with this area as I am not. I could not have regained my freedom without her.”

“Mere excuses,” he snorted, staring down at me. “Your having secured mounts and food for the both of you would surely have repaid whatever debt to her you stood in. Yes, I have spoken both with her and with the denday who found you and she. I am told that Aesnil would surely have escaped into the forest, had she not spent so long a time attempting to take you with her. My cousin was more difficult to extract information from, yet a strapping and the promise of another succeeded in loosening her tongue. She had refused to leave you for you had twice given her her life back, when it was all but lost. I believe there is a bond between the two of you, one you are incapable of ignoring even should my cousin fail to honor it. Is this not so?”

“Yes, yes!” I wept, trying to toss my head back and forth despite the unmoving fist in my hair. Of course I knew Aesnil would still be free if she hadn’t wasted time trying to take me with her. Her actions might have been caused by fear on her part of trying to reach Vediaster alone—or she might have begun feeling something like real concern for me. If I hadn’t been all used up I would have known which it was—and I couldn’t forget about it until I found out one way or the other for sure.

“And so I thought,” he breathed, satisfaction flaring in his mind. “In that event, I am able to use a lesson learned from my beloved cousin herself. I will release you from the chain and allow you to return to yourself—yet does Aesnil’s well being depend upon your refraining from the use of your powers. Should you use them and I am affected, others, watching, will know of it and see to Aesnil. Do you understand the words I speak?”

“Yes, I understand!” I sobbed, but not only from what he was doing to me. He had trapped me, damn him, trapped me!

“Excellent,” he chuckled, pulling my head back by the hair again. “Now the following days will be filled with pleasure rather than strife.” He lowered his lips to mine and kissed me hard, opened the collar around my throat and tossed it away, then finally let me go. It was as though I’d been holding a live electrical wire, and had only just managed to release it: the immediate shock was gone, but my nervous system was still remembering the current that had been forced through it. I lay slumped on the furs, unable to move, my mind still whirling as fast as my blood.

It took a few minutes before I was able to force myself up on one elbow, and by that time Daldrin—Dallan—had moved the tray of food closer to the bed and was stretched out along the edge of the furs, nibbling some dried fruit and moving his eyes over me. Just because he was controlling what he felt from having touched me didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling it, and the jarring of his emotions began upsetting me all over again. I reached a slow hand over toward the fur he’d thrown aside earlier, but he didn’t miss the movement.

“No,” he said, putting no special emphasis into the word. “You have not my permission to cover your loveliness again.”

“What do you intend doing with me?” I demanded, more than annoyed that he’d treat me that way. “Are you merely going to sit there and stare at me from this day on?”

“You could not have forgotten me this soon, wenda,” he grinned, reaching a hand out to run one finger over my calf. “Best you remember that the foul mood your need instills in you may bring punishment rather than an easing of that need. Guard your words carefully when you speak to me, else I shall recall them when the time has come to see to previous matters which stand between us. I shall not warn you again.”

The amusement didn’t leave his face, but his eyes and mind had hardened in a way that was clearer than any threat. I still didn’t like the way he was treating me, but I swallowed down what I was feeling and tried again.

“I would know what you mean to do with me,” I said, wishing I didn’t have to ignore the urge to pull my leg out of his reach. “Am I now your prisoner—as Aesnil is?”

“My cousin is not my prisoner.” He laughed, taking another mouthful of dried fruit. “She has been made a slave in this house, as I was in hers. I believe the experience will do much for her, teaching her the fate she bestowed so unthinkingly upon others. As for you, my little bird, you will be taught obedience.”

My expression must surely have told him what I thought about that, as he laughed aloud when he saw it.

“No, it will not be nearly as difficult a task as you think to make it,” he said, sitting up and twisting around to put his feet on the floor. “We will begin with seeing to your feeding, go on to having you bathed, and then your lessons will begin. Come here. ”

I hesitated over moving closer to him, but I really had very little choice in the matter. Aesnil had wasted her opportunity to get clear of the riders who were about to find us, and I couldn’t very well thank her by deserting her in return. If there was a loophole in Dallan’s trap, I’d have to wait there until I found it. Slowly, with a reluctance the man didn’t miss, I moved myself across the furs until I was right behind him, tending neither to the right nor the left. It seemed the safest place to be just then, but when he twisted first right and then left and still couldn’t reach me easily, he experienced a flash of annoyance that ended my safety. He twisted around once more, all the way to his right, hooked me with one unreasonably large and muscled arm, then pulled me over into his lap.

“I care little for the manner in which you obey even the simplest of commands,” he growled, the annoyance still with him and trying to grow stronger. “Now, rather than see to your own feeding, you may put your arms about me.”

He was getting too close to anger for me to hesitate even long enough to ask him why I was to put my arms about him, but once I had done it I no longer had to ask. He was broad and hard, tanned and strong, and in order to put my arms even part way around him I had to lean very close, my chest against his. Even before I’d left Central I couldn’t have been that close to a man like Dallan without feeling something, and I’d been yanked out of the Centran culture and forcibly adjusted to a much lustier one. His skin was firm and warm under my hands, the hair on his chest cushioned and caressed my breasts, and I was suddenly—strongly—reminded of what he had just been doing to me.

“You may not draw back again.” he said, obviously reading the intention in my thoughts as he looked down at me. “Though your discomfort is as keen as I had hoped it would be, I find the posture most pleasant. You will take your food in silence, and consider what lack of proper obedience has brought you.”

He reached past my shoulder for a bowl on the tray, brought it back, then began feeding me. Though I really did need food at that point, I barely noticed that the dish was that thick cereal grain mixed with dried and sweetened fruit. Dallan was feeling a good deal of pleasure from being held by me, and even his muted, controlled emotions were helping to make me dizzy and more than uncomfortable. My bottom rested on his bare thighs, my arms and hands touched his sides and back, his arm movements caused his chest to rub against mine; before very many minutes had passed, I was reduced to squirming. Dallan the free man chuckled heartily at that, and did nothing about it but continued to feed me.

By the time the food was all down my throat, I was well on the way to being intimidated. Dallan continued to feel pleasure from the way our bodies touched, but despite the growing frustration and desperation I could feel within me, his emotions and bodily urgings remained easily under his control. In spite of the fact that Rimilian men rarely denied themselves anything, they seemed to be capable of the most cold-blooded self-denial I had ever seen—when it suited them. For some reason it suited Dallan to refrain from touching me any further, most likely because of the punishment he had spoken of. I was being punished for not obeying him to his satisfaction, and in a way I had not expected. The worst part of it was that I didn’t know how long he would leave me like that, and the uncertainty was making my mind and body more anxious to obey him no matter what my intellect thought about it.

Once my feeding was over, I was made to stand up so that Dallan might do the same. I was beyond knowing what to expect next, so his taking my arm and starting for the door came as a surprise. We were nearly there before I gasped and tried to pull back, wasting the time and effort, but happily I’d been mistaken regarding his intention. He wasn’t dragging me naked into a public corridor as I’d thought when I saw the door, but into the next room of what later proved to be a suite of rooms. The next room was a bathing chamber, more pleasant than Aesnil’s in that it had windows, and once we were through the doorway, my captor stopped to look down at me.

“These serving wendaa will see that you are properly bathed,” he said, indicating the three women in the room. “Obey them without complaint, for they have already been made aware of my wishes. I will await you within the inner chamber.”

He gave my bottom a smack to send me forward another step or two, then turned and went back into the room we’d come out of, closing the door behind him. I looked again at the three women waiting for me, seeing that they’d risen from the nest of cushions they’d been sitting among. None of them was the size of the men of that world, but all three of them were considerably larger than I, broad, solid women who were shapely enough, but thick rather than slender. They wore imadd and caldinn, the long-sleeved blouses and ankle-length skirts that most Rimilian woman wore, but rather than being brightly colored, theirs were solid white. They all had their long blond hair twisted close and tied back short, and even as I watched they untied the leather ties of their sleeves and pushed the slit sleeves back behind them, then tied one leather tie of each sleeve together at the back of their waists. Their arms were then both bare and free, and the sleeves were completely out of the way. It was fairly clear the women were not slaves, but they were looking at me as though I might be. I could feel my body stiffening in resentment at their appraisal, but that only amused them. In their own minds, they knew they were comfortably dressed and I wasn’t.

“Come, weerees, and let us see to you,” one of the three said, beginning to lead the other two toward me. “The drin Dallan would have you clean and sweet-smelling for his pleasure, and so shall he have, you. Has he used you as yet?”

“What business is that of yours?” I snapped, outraged by her question and deeply stung by the name she’d called me. Weerees meant adorable little girl or cuddly toy, and was a pet name for a child—or an insult for a grown woman. I felt insulted, but there was nothing I could do about it.

“I do not ask for my own amusement, weerees,” the woman answered, stopping before me to look down into my eyes with an insolent twinkle in hers. “Should it be that he has not yet used you, we will take care not to tread too heavily upon your . . . sensibilities. ”

The other two joined the first one in laughter, all three of them getting a great deal of amusement out of embarrassing me; the one thing I didn’t understand was why they were doing it. They didn’t hate me, they didn’t even really dislike me; they just felt terribly superior for some reason I couldn’t even begin to guess at. I looked up at the three plainly pretty faces, knowing they were partially laughing at the blush on my cheeks, and tried to hold my head up higher.

“What sensibilities I had have long since been trodden upon,” I told them, my voice as cold as I could make it. “Should you feel the need to add your own touches to the general effort, I am unable to deny you. I shall merely continue in my refusal to be cowed. ”

I thought my speech sounded rather brave and noble, but the burst of renewed laughter from the women showed it didn’t hit them the same way. Their amusement was gleeful and anticipatory yet totally without malice, and I just didn’t understand it! My hands curled into fists as I stamped my foot, but I didn’t get a chance to demand that they explain what they were laughing at. The woman in front of me gestured, and the other two put their hands on my arms.

“I am pleased to hear that you will not be cowed.” The woman chuckled, looking me over in a very insolent way. “In that event, we need not be overly cautious in our handling of you. Bring her to the bath.”

She turned and began leading the way across the room then, the other two pulling me along between them. This room was nearly as large as the first, with silk hung marble walls and clean marble ceiling, but only half the floor was covered with fur carpeting. The covered half was near the windows, and contained the nest of multicolored cushions the three women had been sitting among. The other half of the floor was bare marble, and held the bathing pool the women were taking me toward. The pool itself was two-sectioned and oval in shape, the larger part of the oval suitable for paddling around in, the narrower left-hand end shallow enough for soaking and washing. The two women holding me followed the third to the shallow end, ignoring the way I tried to struggle loose, doing no more than tightening their grips automatically. Their minds dismissed my displeasure as though I were a small child, unimportant and therefore ignorable. Truthfully I felt like a small child among those three, especially when I was peremptorily manhandled over the edge of the pool and into the water.

“We shall see to it that you shine for the drin, weerees,” the first woman said, watching as I was plunked down into a sitting position amidst a large splash. “It is the least we may do for one so backward as to intend defying a l’lenda. When he has done with you, you may look back upon our kindness with keen memory and longing, for he, himself, will find little kindness for you. ”

She nodded to the other two, then got to her knees beside the pool to add her share of help. I kicked and struggled as I was dunked entirely under the water, came up spluttering and shaking water out of my eyes, then tried yelling when they began to soap me. The first woman used two hands, the others one each, and all my screaming and struggling didn’t stop them from spreading the slick, perfumy liquid soap all over me. Somehow the humiliation of that bath was worse than what I’d felt when bathed by the male bedinn of the Hamarda, the male slaves of the desert tribe I’d been held by. The slaves had been rough and uncaring, but those women . . . ! It was as though I were a small child placed in their care, one whose tantrums weren’t to be noticed or given in to. Their amusement continued as long as the bath did, but it didn’t interfere with the efficiency of their efforts.

After being soaped three times and dunked four, then having my hair thoroughly washed, I was finally let out of the pool. I’d tried demanding that they let me take my own bath, but was told that that wasn’t part of their instructions. I’d been placed in their care, and they’d be doing whatever was necessary. The topic of necessary seemed to include drying me thoroughly with large cloths and then rubbing thick lotions into my skin, lotions which seemed downright erotic in their allure. I was put on a dry cloth on the marble for the lotion spreading, and was finally told by the first woman that if I didn’t stop yelling and trying to spill the lotion, I’d be given a good strapping before they went any further. I was shocked at the promise, even more shocked that the woman wasn’t joking or merely threatening, but I just couldn’t stand it. After what Dallan had—or rather hadn’t—done to me, I couldn’t bear being touched all over like that. When I began crying I was comforted in a firm, stern way, then the rest of the lotion went on.

By the time my hair had been thoroughly dried and neatly combed, my skin had absorbed the thick yellow lotion, all excess having been earlier patted away. I stood on the cloth I’d been ordered to when they’d first begun on my hair, my head down, my mind filled with misery and deep depression. I was being prepared for show again, being prettied up at the orders of and for the benefit of a man of Rimilia again. What made them think they were so damned special that they had the right to do that to me? I was a Prime of the Centran Amalgamation, an empath whose abilities were sought after by everyone who knew of them; why wasn’t ! the one with special privileges?

“Weerees, I see a foolish look upon your face,” the first woman said, bringing me back to that hateful room. She was standing right in front of me and looking down at me, her voice carrying as much of a warning note as her narrowed eyes and annoyance-tinged mind. “It cannot be that you have not as yet learned the lesson we attempted to teach.”

“Your words hold no meaning for me,” I answered, my tone sullen despite everything I could do. “The sole lesson I have learned here is one already known: I would be best off far from this place.”

“Perhaps.” She nodded, her mind disagreeing with the voiced thought. “You, however, are not far from this place, therefore would you be wise to heed the teachings of another lesson. The drin Dallan may do with you as he pleases, therefore is it to your benefit to see that it pleases him to do other than punish you. He need not have merely had you bathed.”

“His generosity overwhelms me,” I answered, looking away from her toward the windows. The day was beautiful and bright and sparkling, with only a few clouds marring the loveliness.

“You are indeed a fool for failing to understand that he is no other thing than generous,” the woman said, angry now. “Ever has he been more generous even than his brother, the drin Seddan! A woman must needs be bereft of her senses to spurn his interest and incur his wrath! Have you no concept of how many yearn to be his?”

“The number is surely beyond counting,” I said with a small shrug, still looking out the window. “I, however, preferred him when he was no more than a loyal servant-slave. He was then so much more—amenable.”

“No slave is amenable,” she snorted, totally out of patience. “A slave is obedient, a state awaiting a stubborn weerees of a wenda, who thinks to pit herself against a man. You will learn better, and be the better for it. Let us place her within that, and have done with it.”

Her last comment was for the other women, but it was enough to take my attention from the windows to see what she was talking about. One of the other two had just rejoined our jolly group, and was carrying a fold of sheer pink silk in her hand. It was little more than a scrap of material, short and narrow and thin, far too small to be a gown or even an imad or caldin. The first woman saw me looking at the material, and immediately radiated amusement and self-justification.

“That garment is an excellent example of the generosity of the drin,” she informed me, flicking a finger toward the silk. “Had you shown yourself sufficiently repentent and eager to please the drin, you would not have been required to wear such a thing. For a free woman to wear the garment of a slave is a great shaming and punishment.”

I stared as the woman holding the bit of silk unfolded it and held it up, her laughter and ridicule matching that of the others, my head shaking in negation even as the other two closed with me. It seemed impossible for anyone to wear such a skimpy little thing, but once they had forced me into it I found it was more than possible. The silk was mostly skirt, tied with two thin strands at my left hip, leaving all of the outer portion of my left side and thigh bare. As if that weren’t bad enough, what there was of the skirt barely reached the tops of my thighs, showing it was designed for titillation rather than coverage. From the center of the skirt’s waist flowed two narrow streamers of silk, two halves of an oval, which rose to be fastened behind my neck, only incidently—and scantily—covering the very centers of my breasts. The very sheer silk did nothing to conceal me, in point of fact made me feel more naked that I had before it was put on. I fought the grips of the women, trying to free my arms so that I might tear the silk off again, but it was no use. They were stronger than I, and fully as determined.

“You had best not struggle so,” the first woman chuckled, looking me over with her hands on her hips. “You have more height than the slave meant to wear that, which will undoubtedly please the drin greatly. Should you continue to move yourself about so, he will be more than pleased. He is after all, a l’lenda and a man. Bring her.”

Again her last words were for the other two woman, who smoothed my hair and straightened the silk even as they pulled me toward the door to the next room. The first woman led the way through, knowing we followed, continuing on until she reached the middle of the room. When she stopped about ten feet in front of Dallan, who sat among the cushions on the carpet fur, I expected her to speak. Instead she waited until I’d been brought directly behind her, then simply stepped aside.

I felt the man’s eyes and mind as though they were physical blows, watching with numbed attention as he slowly sat straight among the cushions. His thoughts were a roiling growl of insatiable desire, the heat in his blue eyes arising from open, leaping flames. I could feel myself flinching from the roar that rolled at me from his mind, trembling but rooted to the spot. He got smoothly to his feet, cat-graceful despite the size of him, and walked toward me, the smile on his face barely noticeable below the look in his eyes. I swallowed and tried to control the trembling that had taken me, nearly crushed beneath the weight of his mind, but still couldn’t keep from cringing when he stopped right in front of me and put a hand out to touch my face. I’d gone through too much with the men of that world to trust one of them, and some of the soaring pleasure in Dallan’s mind faded and died.

“Wenda, you are lovelier than I have ever seen you,” he said, slowly withdrawing his hand. “Do you believe me capable of bringing harm to such loveliness, that you fear me so? Why do you cower away from the mere touch of my hand?”

“I . . . do not cower,” I said, disgusted with the way my voice shook, looking down to avoid meeting his eyes. “I do not fear you, therefore may you do as you will.”

Again I could feel his eyes on me, and when his hand suddenly touched my arm I jumped, automatically shrinking back toward the women who had come into the room with me. Consider my shock when I discovered they were gone, their exit so quiet and unobtrusive that I hadn’t noticed it through the turmoil in my mind and the growling in Dallan’s. I was all alone again and terribly vulnerable, and when a whimper escaped my throat, Dallan’s arms were immediately around me.

“Terril, what ails you?” he demanded, holding me close to the warmth and strength of his chest. “That you lie is clear to any with eyes, for you do indeed fear me. What has brought this sudden fear to you, a thing you felt nothing of when last I saw you?”

“It . . . is not you I fear,” I answered raggedly, clinging to his warmth with pathetic desperation. “It is this world that I fear, a world where I am nothing, and the men of this world, to whom I am nothing. It is they whom I fear, not you.”

“Ah,” he said, his amusement strong enough to be felt and heard. “Then I am not to be feared for I am not a man of this world. Is it that you consider me from another world, or simply not a man?”

“You seek to ensnare me with words,” I protested, stirring uncomfortably in his arms, relieved to know he wasn’t feeling insulted. “Were you not a man, I would scarcely feel as I do when held by you. You asked the reason for my fear, and I attempted to speak of it. As you feel the need to ridicule me, I shall not speak of it again.”

“Wenda, you are overly sensitive.” He laughed, patting my bottom through the sheer silk covering it. “I do not ridicule you, for what is foolishness to one is true fear to another. I do, however, doubt the fullness of your words rather than their content. It is neither this world nor its l’lendaa which you fear, and I would know the full truth of your feelings. What has been done to you that you now find yourself filled with fear?”

“Naught has been done that has not been done before,” I answered, suddenly feeling the need to try pushing out of his arms. “Release me now, for I would rid myself of this terrible garment as soon as possible.”

“I think not,” he said, holding me against him without effort, his eyes still on me. “The garment pleases me, and will please me for some time to come. Speak to me of what has been done to you.”

I looked up at him, seeing the determination in his eyes as well as feeling it in his mind. I’d been told that I’d wear the silk until he had the answer he wanted, but my feelings weren’t something I could talk about in exchange for a simple favor.

“Then I shall ignore the garment,” I shrugged, trying to make him believe my disinterest without nudging him with my mind. “I am sure to find it less terrible the longer it is upon me.”

“That remains to be seen,” he said, his amusement obvious. “You may attempt to ignore the garment if you wish, yet I shall not. ”

His arms were suddenly gone from around me, and then I was being drawn closer to the pile of cushions by one arm, to be left about three feet from them while Dallan went to seat himself among them. He kept his eyes on me the entire time, and once he was leaning down onto one elbow, he grinned up at me.

“I find the sight of your loveliness enhanced by that silk rather stimulating,” he said, his mind putting out an increase of the growling hum that had not at any time subsided completely. “Turn about so that I may see all of you.”

I stood there in front of him, feeling his eyes touch me all over, finding it impossible not to know how I looked to him. The silk which did no more than color my flesh teased his senses, luring his mind to the memory of the sensual, perfumed softness of my skin, calling to him to put his hands on me again—and then go on from there. I knew all that as well as I knew my own feelings, and I couldn’t turn around in front of him, exciting him even further—I couldn’t!

“Turn about, wenda,” he repeated, his voice still soft but beginning to harden with annoyance. “Or must I go for a strap?”

His words hit me with the shock of cold water, waking me up to the memory of where I was, what sort of man I stood before. He was Rimilian, just like all the others, no different, no better. Jerkily, with more than simple reluctance, I began to turn, moving woodenly until I was facing in his direction again. I tried to keep my eyes away from him, but suddenly he rose up in front of me, filling all the space in my view from much too close a distance.

“Wenda, what has been done to you?” he demanded, putting his hands on my arms to keep me from moving back away from him. “The humor in you has turned to dust and ashes, leaving little more than a hollow shell. I will hear what befell you since we parted and I will hear it now!”

I didn’t understand what his complaint was, but I also couldn’t resist being pulled back to the cushions with him, to sit beside him and be held up against him. I discovered that my shield had closed tight around my mind, as though I’d be protected from him that way. I laughed briefly and bitterly at myself for being a fool, but didn’t send the shield back to nothingness.

“You may begin from when you told your l’lenda what assistance you had been to him in his escape,” Dallan said, holding me close as he began stroking my hair. When I didn’t answer immediately, his hand paused in its stroking and he demanded, “You did speak to him of it? You did not foolishly allow him to continue believing you moved in Aesnil’s cause?”

“He . . . learned of it without my speaking of it,” I admitted, unable to resist leaning my cheek against Dallan’s chest. “If he had not, I would not have told him. I wanted naught of gratitude for services rendered. ”

“And is this what you received?” he prompted gently, stroking my hair. “Gratitude for services rendered?”

“He was . . . pleased that I had not betrayed him,” I said, closing my eyes. “Again he professed his love for me, in such a way that I nearly believed him, and then . . . and then your parting message was brought.”

“At which he grew angry,” Dallan murmured, a statement rather than a question. “Was any part of his anger given to you?, ,

“No,” I answered, remembering how my mind had cringed away from that towering rage. “His anger was for you alone, that you had dared to do and say what you had. Afterward, he five-banded me.”

“I see,” he said, and that was all the comment he made. “How is it, then, that you are now four-banded? You could not have removed the fifth band yourself?”

“I had no need to,” I said, my voice lower than it had been. “A . . . a thing happened between us, and then he came to the decision that I would be filled with greater happiness as the belonging of someone other than he. It was a firm decision, for he took the fifth band and made offer among Cinnan’s dendayy, seeking one who would band me. I was pleased at his decision, yet displeased with those he offered me to, therefore did I decide to flee from the palace with Aesnil and thereafter return to my own people. They will greet me warmly upon my return, accepting me as I am, once again giving me my place among them. I will not miss this terrible world nor its heartless l’lendaa, nor ever think of them again.”

I believed that, I really did, but Dallan’s arms tightened about me as though he thought I needed comforting. He was silent for a long moment, his lips to my hair, and then he sighed.

“Ah, wenda; are you able to find naught save pain in your life? For what reason would a man unband one such as you? What was this . . . thing between you and this man who calls himself l’lenda? In what manner did you anger him?”

“In the manner most natural to one such as I,” I choked, pushing away from his chest so that I might look up at him. He had immediately assumed that the fault was mine, just as everyone on that world did, and there was no reason to disillusion him. “I attempted to control his mind, to make him bend to my will, to obey me in all things! He discovered my attempt and repulsed it, then beat me for daring to touch him! I was forbidden to touch any other with my mind, and when I disobeyed I was beaten again and yet again! He finds great joy in beating me, that l’lenda, yet now must find another to give him joy for I am no longer there. I am here, frightening and sickening another, who will soon take his own turn at beating me! How long will you feel safety in your efforts to guard against me, eh, l’lenda’? How long before you, too, seek to give me to another?”

I tried to pull away from him then, to get away from the pity so clear in his eyes, but he still refused to let me go. I struggled for a minute or two, blessing the fact that my shield was closed, wishing I’d also kept my eyes closed. I’d never felt pitiful in my life—until I’d come to that world.

“Wenda, I am neither frightened nor sickened,” he said as soon as he’d forced me to stop struggling. “Nor, I think, was your l’lenda taken so. It is clear you feel ahresta due to his decision to unband you yet it is patently untrue that you are unwanted and kept only out of pity. That he punished you for touching him with your mind is to be expected, for I would do the same. I believe there is more to your upset than that which you have spoken of, and it is this which must be reached before your pain may be eased. Speak now of that which truly disturbs you. ”

I dragged my head up to stare at him, not believing how cold-blooded he could be about the whole thing. His mind was calm and totally under his control, completely untouched by the maelstrom in mine.

“Why do you continually defend him?” I demanded, ignoring the question he’d asked. “Why must every being upon this world defend his doings with me?”

“I do not defend him.” Dallan shrugged, reaching up to smooth the hair out of my eyes. “I merely point out the truth of his actions, as any l’lenda is honor-bound to do. For what reason was the decision made to unband you?”

“I know not,” I said, lowering my head again. “He felt some portion of my upset, and was unable to bear it. To truly know the feelings of another is no pleasant thing, and yet—”

“And yet you had thought him strong enough to bear the burden,” Dallan finished when I didn’t. “Earlier you said he spoke of your happiness. Can it be not his strength but yours which concerned him? Might his thoughts not be solely for you?”

“I care not for whom his thoughts are,” I muttered, still looking down at my hands. “That he speaks of my happiness does not mean it concerns him. Little concerns him save his own beliefs. ”

“How is this?” Dallan asked, putting his hand under my chin to raise my face to him again. “What was done that gives you such a belief?” When I simply stared at him without answering, he briefly returned the stare then said, “Perhaps you feel so because of the punishment given you. Were you never taught that punishment is given for your benefit, not the benefit of others’? That a l’lenda bothers to give you punishment is an indication of his concern for you.”

I unhooked my chin from his hand and turned my face away, sick to death of their concept of concern. If that was the way they cared, I didn’t want to be cared about ever again.

“I hear no protests, therefore must there be more to the matter,” Dallan decided, his voice thoughtful as his mind poked and pried at the question. “You spoke of the joy your l’lenda finds in beating you, and also seemed strange when I spoke of strapping you. Even now I feel you stiffening between my hands. Can it be that he lost himself to anger when punishing you? Can it be that he gave you true pain rather than the sting of a lesson properly taught.?”

I could feel the stupid tears coming to my eyes, remembering how he had hurt me over a lie. It would have been bad enough if I’d been guilty, but all that over a lie! He hadn’t believed me when I’d said I was innocent, he hadn’t wanted to believe me. It would have made his code of behavior too complicated if he had to decide between truth and lie, so he hadn’t bothered. He had just hurt me and walked away, unconcerned with what he had done because he knew he could always apologize later. It must have annoyed him when his apology wasn’t accepted as it always had been in the past, it must have annoyed him like hell. A pity I wasn’t there for him to beat again when the annoyance got to be too much. Dallan’s finger came to my cheek to wipe at the wetness there, and then he had gathered me tightly to him, to cry if I had to. I did have to, but there was nothing left to cry over.

Dallan held me for a number of minutes in silence, but when he let me go it wasn’t simply to let me sit beside him again. He rose to his feet, walked to where he had left his swordbelt, got something from it, then came back.

“It was my intention to wait until another time before seeing to this,” he said, sitting back down next to me among the cushions. “I have, however, been given reason to change my mind. It disturbs me to see the pain you carry, lovely wenda, and perhaps this will remove a portion of it.”

I watched without understanding as he reached to my right wrist and opened the band there, then went on to the other three.

When all four bands were off he gathered them together and put them aside, then reached behind him. Only when I saw the new set of gleaming bronze bands did I understand, and the enlightenment was no blessing.

“Dallan, you cannot band me,” I protested, trying to inch back away from him. “You know I mean to return to my people, therefore is it foolishness to . . . .”

“To make the effort,” he interrupted, nodding absently as he grabbed my ankle and pulled me easily back to him. “You mean to return to your people and have ever done as you meant, therefore is it foolishness to go counter to your wishes. There are few among your people who go counter to your wishes, are there not, wenda?”

He glanced up as he closed the new band around my ankle, then turned his attention to my second ankle. His mind was pleased but calm, unannoyed in spite of the way he’d spoken to me. If anything he was amused, probably over the fact that some men let their women run their own lives. I kicked at him with the leg that was already banded, found myself totally ignored, then put my arms behind me when he reached for one of my wrists.

“You are no different from any of the others!” I spat, twisting away as he reached for my arm. “You speak gallantly of easing my pain, then proceed to put me in your bands despite my unwillingness! How mighty and courageous are the l’lendaa of Rimilia, to stand themselves firm against the begging of their wendaa! ”

“All men require courage and might when dealing with wendaa,” he laughed, his light eyes sparkling with amusement. “As to begging, that is heard from one such as you. Do you wish to beg me to unband you, little bird?”

“Would you do so?” I pounced immediately, willing to consider humiliating myself if it meant being free.

“I would not,” he laughed, capturing my nose with two fingers, then immediately grabbing my wrist when I tried to push his hand away. “My desire is for the warmth of a wenda, not the scrapings and mewlings of a slave. You may indeed soon find yourself begging, little bird, yet not for freedom.”

I beat at him with my fists while he put the wrist bands on, but all he did was continue to ignore me. He had pushed me flat onto the fur carpeting among the cushions and had knelt across me, making sure that beating at him was all I could do. That silly scrap of silk I was wearing was twisted all about, but that made no difference at all; as well as it covered me, it might as well have been gone entirely. When the band had snapped closed around my second wrist he suddenly looked down into my face, the smile he wore and the growling hum in his mind forcing me still. I knew that sense of possession he radiated; I had cause to know it well. It made me swallow hard and try to shrink down and away, but he just laughed and stopped me by leaning lower.

“You will not fly from me, little bird,” he said, grinning at the expression on my face. “I will complete the rite of five-banding, and then you will be mine.”

“Rite?” I quavered, wondering why I always had to be such a coward with these men of Rimilia. “What rite do you speak of?”

“It does not surprise me that you know nothing of the rite.” He smiled, putting his hands on the carpeting to either side of me and leaning even closer. “It is all one with the balance of what has been done. Suffice it to say that it pleases me to be first.”

I didn’t know what he was talking about, but didn’t have the time to wonder about it. His lips came quickly to mine, soft but hungry, enticing rather than demanding, taunting and teasing and impossible to escape. Once, when I turned my face away from him, his lips came to my throat instead, drawing a moan from me despite everything I could do. He was using what he’d done to me earlier, ruthlessly and with full knowledge, bringing me to the writhing point without once touching me with his hands. I could have cried when I realized I wanted him to touch me with his hands, but more from desolate confusion than anything else. What had those men done to me that I was no longer mistress of my own body? Why did my will crumble and my blood run hot any time one of them was too near? I moaned again and put my hands on those wide, metal-thewed arms, trying to press myself up against him, but he refused to allow that. He continued doing nothing but kiss me until I rolled about in near-madness, dying for him, and then he leaned away.

“Wenda, I would make you fully mine,” he said softly, holding up the fifth band. “With this band I swear to defend your life with mine, to share my victories and keep sadness from you, to deny with a sword all those who would take you from me. With this band take my heart, for they are both equally yours. ”

He reached down then and closed it around my throat, and only then did he take me in his arms. His kisses grew fierce and his hands touched me everywhere, and it was impossible to deny him anything he wanted. I kissed his face and bit at his earlobe even as he laughed and removed his haddin, and then he put me beneath him, to enter me and take his due as my owner. It took a long time to satisfy both of us, to quench the flames that had risen so high, but even so I still remembered, and afterward lay with my hand to the band on my throat and wept.