The Warrior Challenged

12

I was already up and standing at the window when Hestin entered my room, but I wasn’t dressed. I had the cover fur wrapped around me against the early morning chill, and was staring out at the beginnings of the day I’d been waiting for. My window opened on what seemed a small back garden for sitting and taking it easy, a stone wall raised all around it to insure the privacy of the sitter. The flowers and greenery were still drooping from heavy watering, the ground underneath was still mostly mud, and even the stone of the wall was a deeper red than it should have been. Hestin hesitated when he realized, in whatever way he did it, that my mind was completely unshielded, and then he came up slowly behind me.

“You are awake early, treda,” he said, his voice soft and even and calm, his mind not quite the same. “Did the potion I gave you enable you to sleep?”

“It enabled me to fall asleep,” I answered, still looking out at the slowly lightening and brightening day. “I have been waiting too long for this time for the potion to be able to keep me asleep. Have the others already arrived?”

“Not as yet,” he said, putting a hand on my arm through the fur. “The first meal is nearly prepared, and I wish to see you eat more of it than was swallowed by you the last darkness. This day your strength must not fail.”

“I have never before found myself a participant in battle,” I said with a sigh, finally turning around to look up at him. “To be successful in battle the participants must have more than mere strength, they must also have courage to see them through. My determination to see Tammad free is unflagging yet I have not previously found as mine an overabundance of courage. Is determination a suitable substitute for courage?”

“Should it not be, you may use your more than adequate supply of stubbornness,” he said with a smile, then put his arms around me and held me to him. “Do not fear that you will fail, treda. For your sake and ours, your memabrak will be freed.”

“For your sake as well as my own?” I asked, confused but grateful for the arms that gave only comfort and support. “I do not take your meaning, Hestin.”

“My meaning is not difficult, treda,” he said, and I could feel the amusement he looked down at me with. “Should the l’lenda Dallan and I need to see to you much longer, it is we who may well find the strength lacking. You require the presence of the man who has banded you, to hold you in the place he wishes you—and to punish your excursions out of it. I am a healer and have little time to give treda strappings—and even less time to be tempted by the thought of it.”

I leaned away from his chest to look up into his face, but didn’t need to see his grin to feel it. I was letting him see that he had managed to annoy me enough to unsettle the doubt I’d been locked in, not enough to chase it away but enough to loosen its hold around my throat. I’d told Dallan and Hestin the night before that I would not let them beat me, and Hestin was using that to get through to me by saying the decision wasn’t mine no matter what abilities I had. I might have been tempted to argue the point, but I needed all the reassurance I could get—which might not be gotten from an argument about strappings with a Rimilian male.

“The meal is nearly done, you say?” I commented instead, trying to sound as though that was all we’d been talking about. “Then clearly is it time I dressed. It would hardly do to miss so important a meal.”

He chuckled as he took his arms away, obviously giving me permission to get on with it, but I didn’t even realize he hadn’t left the room until I was all done and turned to find him still there. To say I was distracted was an understatement, but it didn’t seem to matter; Hestin was just as distracted, and I had to speak to him before he knew I was ready.

The quiet and distraction of my own room wasn’t equalled in the rest of the house, something I was able to feel long before we reached the kitchen area. That’s not to say the big house was noisy, because it wasn’t. But it was filled with people moving briskly back and forth, getting their jobs done with efficiency and enthusiasm, their minds bulging with held-down excitement and anticipation and eagerness and every blend of holiday-morning feeling there was. Every one of them was loyal to Leelan and her group, something Relgon and Deegor had worked hard to be sure of despite Farian’s attempts to slip spies into the household, and every one of them had waited a long time for that day. I’d intended using that morning to give my mind a chance to spread out, but by the time we reached the kitchen and entered it, I was already curtained.

“I give you greeting for the new day, Terril,” Leelan said as she looked up from checking the contents of a pot hung over the fire, her pretty face flushed from the heat and glowing from another source entirely. “Were you able to rest?”

“With Hestin’s aid, I was indeed,” I said, stepping back to avoid two of the servants heading out of the room with trays. “I trust your own rest was adequate?”

“Completely adequate,” she said with a laugh, abandoning the pot to a hovering woman servant who had been waiting impatiently for her to get out from under foot. “The aid I had was not from Hestin, however, and for that reason was likely even more adequate.”

“Such talk is immodest and unbecoming to a woman, Leelan,” Hestin said with mock disapproval, his arms in their gray robe-sleeves folded across his chest. “Also am I near to taking guest-insult.”

“I offer my most sincere apologies, Hestin,” she said with a laugh, coming forward to put a hand on his folded arms. “On so glorious a day as this, I would give insult to none save Farian. The meal is done, and will shortly be served. Come and join me, both of you.”

We followed Leelan to the room with the windows and the fireplace, chose places on the carpet fur, then let ourselves be served. People began arriving just about then, joining us for the meal and bringing word of the fighters or arrangements each was responsible for. There was a lot of talk mixed in with the eating, but Hestin was right there making sure it went the other way around for both Leelan and myself. The others were free to starve if they liked, but Leelan and I weren’t going to be allowed to do it with them.

By the time everyone but Relgon had left again, it was clear everything was ready. I hadn’t thought it would be possible to raise a large enough number of fighters in less than a day, but Leelan and her co-conspirators had been organizing for longer than that. On the theory that their chance would come suddenly when it came, they had prepared in advance and had just waited, ready to set everything in motion on little more than a moment’s notice. If besieging the palace had been necessary it would have taken more time for details, but our plan saw to that problem.

After breakfast it was time to get me disguised. Although I didn’t know it at first, this was the part of the preparations that had taken the most effort. Hours had been spent making a wig for me of long blonde hair, and my own hair had to be spread out on top of my head before the wig could be put on. On Central, hair tinting had always been more popular than wigs and, on Rimilia, they were never used at all; with none of us having any expertise in the matter, getting the thing on and straight was a pre-battle battle. If a stray corner of my own hair wasn’t showing, then the blonde locks looked crooked and somehow more glued on than grown. Leelan, Relgon, and I fought with the stupid thing until we were sweating and cursing, almost ready to say to hell with it, and then Leelan’s chief house servant noticed what we were doing. The woman was a lot like Gilor, the chief housekeeper in Tammad’s house, the sort of person who can be calm and efficient even in the middle of an earthquake. She joined us without waiting to be invited, tugged a little here and pushed there, then added the leather headband that Leelan and quite a few other women of Vediaster wore. I felt as though I were wearing a tied-down hood, but the mirror Leelan had produced for the occasion showed someone other than the dark-haired, useless rella wenda the palace guards would be on the lookout for. The thought came to me that the women of Tammad’s city wore headbands for a reason other than decoration, but that was a thought I didn’t have the timer the nerve-for. Until Tammad was free it would have to wait its turn for priority.

The last part of my disguise was a swordbelt complete with weapon, fitting around my hips over the cloth breeches as though I had never gone unarmed a day in my life. It’s an odd feeling wearing a weapon for the first time, and I could finally understand why it’s been said that there are no dangerous weapons, only dangerous people. I could also understand why boys were made to cut themselves if they were found with their swords in their hands without having a valid reason for it. I stood looking out of one of the windows without seeing anything, my fingers to the worn leather of the swordbelt, my mind so eager to draw the sword from its scabbard that it was almost at compulsion level. I knew I couldn’t use a sword, knew I didn’t even have the ability to hold it properly, but having been given it made the thing mine, and somehow along with the weapon had come the conviction that if I had to use it I’d be able to. The idea wasn’t just stupid it was downright irrational, but I couldn’t seem to get rid of it. I stood staring sightlessly out of a window, and my mind and fingers itched to play warrior.

“Terril, I would not have known you,” Dallan’s voice came from my left, making me start guiltily. “You seem quite the w’wenda now, and that despite your green eyes. As well armed as you appear to be, I must be sure not to give you insult.”

He chuckled indulgently at his little joke, having quite a good time teasing me, in reality finding nothing threatening at all in me or the weapon I was wearing. It really was irrational to let his amusement get to me, but sometimes irrationality can be even more inescapable than depression.

“Should you hold to that, I shall regret not having donned a sword before this,” I said, deliberately resting my left palm on a leather-bound metal hilt. “Was there some matter you wished to discuss with me?”

“Indeed,” he said with a nod, grinning down at me as he otherwise ignored my first comment. “As it will soon be time to depart for the palace, I would have you know how I mean to see matters attended to. As your safety is my responsibility, you shall remain beside me no matter what occurs, or behind me should it come to sword strokes. Under no circumstances are you to take yourself off elsewhere and alone, and you will obey whatever instructions are given you quickly and without discussion. Have I made myself clear?”

“Oh, extremely clear, my Chamd,” I answered soberly, letting him see nothing of the flaring outrage ravening in my mind. “This undertaking has become yours, then, no matter that you will likely not even be allowed through a gate onto the grounds, not to speak of into the palace itself.”

“I will have a good deal less disrespect from you, girl,” he growled, angered by my having called him “my Chamd,” his finger pointing at me in accusation. “I have, till now, overlooked a good deal of your behavior out of deference to Tammad and your concern over his capture, yet shall I no longer do so. It is ever a l’lenda who moves first into battle and leads the way for others to follow, a thing I now do here for these wendaa. You shall obey me and they shall follow, and I wish to hear no more upon it.”

He was looking down at me the way l’lendaa do, hard-eyed above broad shoulders and massive arms, his unreasonably large size straightened to the full, his mind convinced and ready not to give an inch. If I hadn’t been so angry I would have been very uncomfortable but, as I’ve said before, anger can be a rather useful emotion. I looked up into Dallan’s pretty blue eyes, at the same time letting the curtain drop from my mind, and respected his wish to hear no more about who would do what at the palace.

“Do you recall the time of our first meeting?” I asked him softly, holding his gaze while my mind began-encircling-his. “Do you recall what position you held, what commands you were forced to accept, what actions you were made to perform? You were a slave in all things save your mind, constrained to do as others bid you for Seddan’s sake, held to your place by the chains of necessity. Do you recall the time, Daldrin?”

His lips parted as he continued to look down at me, possibly to answer one of my questions, possibly to protest being called by the slave-name of his own choosing, but it was already too late. My thoughts had already superseded his, telling him how he must act and the very important reason for those actions. Dallan was a man and a l’lenda but Daldrin was a slave, filled with self-effacement and an absolute lack of dignity, completely obedient and totally unquestioning, knowing in every single part of him that the least deviation from any requirement would cause the immediate death of his brother Seddan. I’d had to really intensify his love for Seddan and the sense of dread surrounding the thought of him, but using a situation that had once actually obtained made it all a good deal easier. Dallan became Daldrin again, but this time a Daldrin clear down to the ground. He knew how abject a slave he had to be in order to save his brother, believed sincerely that there was no other way out, and was determined to go through with it all, no matter what. What you know and believe about something dictates your every action, and determination helps to keep it that way. Dallan immediately lowered his eyes from mine, went to his knees, and bowed his head.

“Terril, what have you done?” Leelan asked unsteadily from not two feet away, staring in great confusion at Dallan. “I felt the surge of your mind when you removed its veil, yet

I could not . . . . What have you said to him that he now behaves as we wished him to?”

“Words do naught with a seetar of a l’lenda,” I told her, examining the results of my work critically. “He is not one who gives heed to-others, therefore did I address the matter differently. For now he is to be called Daldrin, and he will do exactly as he is bidden to do. I must, however, have a few moments for him to return to himself before any swordwork is required of him, after we have entered the palace. I would not see him come to harm through the trap of confusion.”

“I myself, will see that he has the time he requires,” she promised, coming closer to bend and look at him with her head to one side. “How strange it seems, to see a slave where moments before stood a l’lenda, Are you a good slave, Dal l-ah-Daldrin?”

“I strive to be a good slave, dendaya,” my unknowing victim answered, his voice as meek and retiring as he could make it, his manner nervous at being directly addressed. “Is it the dendaya’s wish that I serve her?”

“Not at the moment,” she answered with a look of delight, straightening up again. “How unfortunate that there is so little time left before we must depart. Would it be possible to have him so again, Terril? After the battle, perhaps, when Farian has been seen to?”

“It may be done at another time just as it has been done now,” I told her, amused at her grin as much as at her question. “It must be remembered, however, that he has now been changed for a purpose, which would not be true if he were touched again. Also must it be understood that he will recall each thing said and done to him.”

“Perhaps such recollection would be for the best,” she mused, none of her enthusiasm dimmed, one finger tapping her lips. “He is more than stubborn, this one, and he has dared to suggest- Well, no matter. He is as aware of what was suggested as I, and this shall be my reply to it. Raise yourself again to standing, slave.”

Dallan lost no time in obeying the order he had been given, but his eyes remained down, his head lowered. It didn’t really bother me seeing him like that, not as much as I’d thought it would—I knew the condition wasn’t permanent, and if anyone deserved being put through that, he did. I stood with hand resting on sword hilt, needing to do no more than gently support the knowledge, belief and determination in his mind, and watched Leelan move to him with deliberation.

“You do not at this time require weapons, slave,” she said to him, examining him as if he were a side of beef. “Remove that swordbelt at once, and give it to me.”

The slave Daldrin paled at the hardness in the voice of his mistress, and a short minute later was handing over his weapons. Leelan took them with satisfaction glowing out of her eyes and mind, and then she slowly backed away from him.

“A proper slave does not wear a blue haddin,” she said when she had the distance she wanted, putting some effort into slinging Dallan’s swordbelt over her shoulder as she continued to stare at him. “Remove the haddin, and then we will seek out brown cloth for you.”

It most definitely would not be accurate to say that Dallan hesitated, but it was fortunate I still had an attentive hold on him. Without my support, his unquestioning obedience would probably have developed a sag in the middle. His big hands opened the haddin and unwound the cloth from around his middle, his embarrassed suffering clear in the darkening of his skin, and then the cloth was on the carpet fur at his feet. I hadn’t realized how many people were in the room, until I began picking up reactions to that gesture.

“One is now able to see how truly well made as a man he is,” Relgon said in a drawl as she came over to stand beside Leelan, her mind humming noticeably. Behind those two were four of Leelan’s women servants, spread out in the room doing various things-until the unveiling. Right then they were simply standing there and enjoying the view as any normal woman would, their minds more impressed than amused, Relgon’s hum multiplied by their numbers. Dallan stood with head and eyes down, but somehow I was sure he was aware of every pair of eyes on him.

“Ah, but he is not a man, Relgon,” Leelan said in reply to the older woman’s comment, her grin still going strong. “He is a slave who will be my gift to the Chama, and I now require the answer to no more than one additional question: how are we also to take into the palace his great bar of a sword which will surely be needed by him? Merely to look upon it is to know it as the weapon of a l’lenda.”

“Yes, the sight of a l’lenda’s weapon is stirring indeed,” Relgon murmured with a chuckle, then she looked at Leelan more seriously. “For what reason might it not also be presented as a gift? Well-wrapped in cloth and borne by the slave, who is to say what it is? And should it be necessary to reveal the gift, it might be presented as yours to the man Farian has chosen for you, precious for having been carried and used by your father’s father’s father or some such. There are many things one might say to the gate guard-should it be necessary. ”

“Which it hopefully shall not be,” Leelan agreed with a slow nod. “Should those who support us succeed in being stationed at the gate . . . . Ah well, the success of such efforts will be seen upon our arrival. Let us now see to the wrapping of both of our gifts.”

Relgon chuckled again as she turned away with Leelan, and the four women servants sighed as they went back to their work. Dallan still stood with head and eyes down, his trapped mind really suffering, only the determination of his need to do what was necessary making it at all bearable. I waited until Leelan and Relgon had left the room, and then I moved nearer to the man who had been given no choice at all.

“To hold another where he or she has no wish to be is often done on this world,” I said in a very low voice as I looked up at him, raising one hand to run a finger through his blond chest hair. “I was forced, through a need to protect the honor of my sadendrak, into a place I had no wish to be. Now is it you who is similarly forced, to assure the safe release of those who are held captive, both in the palace and in the city itself. Consider, as matters progress, how great a satisfaction is yours through so noble a sacrifice; and have no fear, brother, for I shall not allow harm to come to you. I will look upon your protection as my duty.”

I ran my hand over his hard, strongly muscled shoulder and arm then turned away from him, allowing him nothing in the way of useful anger. Frustration was all the slave Daldrin could feel, that and misery at what was being done to him, outrage and humiliation forced low and into the background. He still towered over me but this time it was he who was helpless, and it would be interesting to see if he managed to get the message.

Relgon came back with brown cloth for our slave to put around himself, and a little later Leelan brought in a long, rectangular bundle wrapped in golden cloth and tied with red silk. Leelan handled it as though it had more bulk than weight, but her mind sounded a sigh of relief when she handed it over to Dallan. I stayed where I was on the carpet fur among some cushions, sipping at a goblet of juice and trying to relax. It was almost time-It was almost time—and if I hadn’t had to monitor Dallan, I probably would have gone crazy.

When time drags along on one end of a wait, it sometimes has a habit of making up for it on the other end. After hours and centuries of seeing to the last necessary details, suddenly Deegor and Siitil and a couple of the others were there, and the waiting was over. I scrambled to my feet, banging my left ankle with my scabbarded sword and catching my arm on its hilt, then stood very still for a minute and closed my eyes. Control, I thought, taking a deep breath—if you can’t control yourself you’re worse than useless. The deep breath seemed to do more good than the pep talk, but at least I was able to wish up the curtain for my mind. I still had control of Dallan through it, but nothing else showed; no sense in warning everybody that the new secret weapon was on her way. I hadn’t really noticed the buzzing of the Hand of Power that morning, but as I walked over to join the others my stomach was churning and my head was nearly pounding.

“ . . . we shall soon know,” Leelan was saying to Siitil, obviously trying to calm the other w’wenda down before she went up in flames. Siitil was almost in a worse state than I was, but not from nervousness. Her burning drive to get to it was nearly beyond her control.

“You and those with you shall soon know!” Siitil replied in a snarl, all but the thinnest layer of civility gone from her. “We others must remain without the wall, awaiting what we hope will come! I am not made for skulking about and waiting, Leelan. ”

“Risking one’s life is much the easier, Siitil,” Leelan said, commiserating, seriously meaning what she was saying, and I couldn’t stand it any longer. One person out of control in a group is enough, most especially when something can be done for the other one. I moved through my curtain and touched Siitil carefully, trying to calm her without letting her know what was happening, and happily it worked. She took a deep breath as the invisible twisting daggers withdrew from her flesh, and even managed something of a smile.

“And it is for all of us and our need for revenge that you risk that life,” she said, stepping forward to put her hand to Leelan’s shoulder. “Should the unthinkable occur and you fail, sister, rest easy in the knowledge that we others will find another time. For now, our lot is waiting.”

With that, Siitil and the other two left, all of them feeling better than they had, giving me the absurd impression that they were characters in a play. Enter these and exit those, speak your lines and don’t forget the gestures, find your mark then stumble off-stage into the wings. We all knew what was ahead but not how it would turn out, and for that I envied the playwright and the director.

“Clearly, it must be Terril,” Deegor was saying to Leelan and Relgon when I returned from my trip into imagination, for some reason opening her swordbelt. “The others must be armed for their own sake.”

“Clearly, what must be Terril?” I asked, moving closer to the remaining members of the group. It still made me feel odd to be the smallest one among them, but the feeling wasn’t as acute as when I stood among men.

“When we enter the palace and the battle is about to begin, you must give me your sword,” Deegor said, handing her own weapon to Relgon. “If it were possible I would give you mine to wear, yet are too many of the guard familiar with the look of it. I shall have to make do with your weapon.”

I looked at the sword Deegor was giving up, noticing for the first time the ornate hilt of the weapon, but still didn’t understand.

“In what manner will it be possible for you to reach me?” I asked her, also wondering why Relgon was now donning the blade. The only way most people could tell the twins apart was by who was wearing a sword and who wasn’t. “You will be without the wall, and your sister in our midst.”

“Relgon shall indeed be with you, yet only in name,” Deegor said, smoothing at her gray breeches to eliminate any creases the swordbelt might have caused. “It has come to us how useful it may be, to have a w’wenda where none is expected. Ever has it been Relgon who has accompanied Leelan into the palace, and this time shall be no different from the rest. We need have no fear that Leelan’s mind will be touched in my sister’s absence.”

“How excellently well all our planning has gone,” Relgon observed, grinning around at all of us. “With Terril among us the thoughts fairly fall over one another in their haste to be proposed, for she is our talisman of fortune. We will succeed, sisters, I am certain we will succeed!”

The rest of us said something in agreement with that, but what, exactly, is beyond me to remember. The one thought that came crystal clear as we made ready to leave, though, was one I would rather not have had. Relgon was certain that we would win, but my talent for the future, if talent it was, remained grimly silent on the point.

The sun was high enough to be hot, but hadn’t been up long enough to dry up the mud. Leelan and her escort of five w’wendaa, one advisor and one male slave, moved along the dirt-based street of Vediaster, avoiding as many of the puddles as possible, keeping to a decent pace, but making no effort to hurry. We didn’t have all that far to go, and the people in the crowds made a point of stepping aside for us.

Leelan was being grave and silent on purpose, pretending that she was going to a w’wenda’s idea of execution, all the while fighting inside to force her mind to match. Deegor walked just as silently beside her, watching the younger woman’s efforts with approval, sternly keeping her left hand from searching for a hilt to rest on. I walked with the four real w’wendaa, trying to look competent and unsurprised that one of them was actually a bit shorter than I was, my mind on the alert against any sort of projections while automatically monitoring and supporting Dallan. Our poor male slave was the only one barefoot among us, or at least he had been until the mud corrected all that. He walked behind the two leaders and in front of the following w’wendaa, his large ornate burden held carefully in his arms, his awareness of the way he was being stared at giving him a really hard time. Dallan had to stay with being the slave Daldrin-everything inside him said so—but that didn’t keep him from suffering.

When we finally got to the fifty-foot clearing between the buildings and stalls of the city and the wall around the palace grounds, Leelan ignored the guards we were approaching while Deegor casually looked them over. Her immediately suppressed flash of disappointment told me that something hadn’t happened that the disguised w’wenda had been hoping for, and it wasn’t long before we all found out what that was. Rather than letting us through the gate without comment, one of the guards stepped directly into Leelan’s path.

“And what is it you wish here, girl?” the guard w’wenda asked Leelan, sounding polite enough but inwardly enjoying a private joke. “Do you wish to see the Chama?”

“I have been commanded to appear before the Chama,” Leelan answered tightly, finding no difficulty at all in pretending to be angry and trying to keep from being insulted. “As you know this as well as I, you may now step aside.”

“Ah, yes, so I do,” the woman agreed lazily, standing not quite as high as Leelan but feeling a good deal larger. “You come here upon command, and for a specific purpose. For what reason is that slave not collared?”

The guard’s eyes had gone to Dallan in appraisal, she obviously feeling pleased that he made no attempt to meet her gaze., but Leelan didn’t bother turning around.

“The slave will be collared should Farian decide to accept him,” she answered, this time working a little harder at sounding stiff and angry-rather than just short of upset. “He is a gift I have brought for the Chama, one I believe will please her. Do you mean to keep us standing about here till darkness has fallen?”

“By no means,” the woman answered, and then she deliberately brought her eyes back to Leelan with a nasty grin on her face. “I would not be the cause of delaying the Chama’s pleasure, girl, for she is eager indeed to inform you of which country she will very soon make an alliance with. The gift you bring is certain to sway her not in the least—which is a great pity for you. You may now enter.”

The woman stepped back, still grinning her amusement shared by the rest of the yellow-clad guard w’wendaa, and just for an instant Leelan didn’t move. Her mind was so clouded with fury that I was sure she was about to draw her weapon, but apparently some people are stronger than their emotions. After the instant of hesitation she simply started forward through the gate, and the rest of us came after her. Dallan was treated to the sort of caress he wasn’t used to getting as he passed the woman who had been doing the talking, but all his startlement did was increase the laughter around us. We left the wall behind as we moved across the grounds toward the palace, some of us noticing that the sun had grown so warm we were sweating, and once we were out of earshot of the guard w’wendaa, Deegor put her hand to Leelan’s shoulder.

“There is but one thing you need bear in mind, sister,” she said in a voice low enough to carry to Leelan and us but not beyond. “That is the gate through which Siitil and her wild ones will enter.”

Leelan’s mind flared with such savage delight, that I nearly flinched back behind my curtain. After that her anger seemed to settle down, and the rest of us could go back to breathing normally again. Or, at least I could; no one else in the group seemed bothered that we’d been that close to starting the fighting early. The fact that I alone was unable to use a sword undoubtedly had nothing to do with the way I felt; the fact that I might have had to use one anyway was more to the point.

We were nodded through into the palace itself by another couple of yellow-clad guards, but this time Deegor’s mind was pleased to see them. That a good number of the guards were on our side would mean nothing if the Hand of Power wasn’t knocked out, and it came to me with a shock that their almost-constant buzz hadn’t been chipping at me for a while. We only had a short time to get to where we were going, and then it was all up to me. Being in the middle of the four w’wendaa kept me from slowing down, but it didn’t keep the wig and headband I wore from suddenly growing tighter and more confining.

We took our parade up and down corridors and halls, constantly oozing the attitude that we were only where we belonged, and the most notice we got was a glance or two from those we passed. I couldn’t decide if walking about openly was less nerve-wracking than sneaking around alone in the dead of night, but another revelation suddenly came to me. The first time Leelan had asked me to head that revolution, I’d refused, and she had never asked again. Somehow I seemed to have almost-floated-into the place I then was, a very familiar feeling on that world. Rimilians didn’t seem to take no for an answer, a trait obviously common to male and female alike.

We came at last to one corridor more deserted than the others we’d been through, one that made everyone else almost as tense as I was. No one went into the corridor who didn’t belong there, and getting caught would have meant trouble. Deegor immediately went down to one knee and began messing with the strap on her left sandal, an excuse for our standing still outside one particular door. Three of our four w’wendaa had already gone through that door, and we couldn’t follow until they’d checked things out.

After what couldn’t have been much more than a minute—but seemed like an hour-later, one of the three was back at the door, gesturing us inside. We lost no time in getting through the doorway, and once the door had been closed behind us I looked around at our temporary refuge. White rock made up the walls and ceiling, but under our feet was white fur carpeting. Yellow silk draped part of the walls and curtained the windows, the small tables set here and there were beautifully carved dark wood, and the various decorations hung at a few points on the walls were also dark. The room was expensively done up for someone of supposedly refined taste, but something seemed to be missing.

“As this apartment is and has been untenanted, none should arrive to disturb us,” Leelan said, making no effort to look around. “Roodar’s apartment lies beyond the wall of the sleeping room, more accessible to us than she knows. Once the Hand is seen to, we will begin by calling on her.”

I realized then that Leelan was talking primarily to me, and also suddenly understood what her words really meant. Tammad was right then no more than a room away from me, close enough to be helped, close enough to be freed. Without even thinking about it I was abruptly facing the dark wood door in the right hand wall that undoubtedly led to the apartment’s sleeping room, but Leelan’s hand came to my shoulder before I could take a single step.

“Terril, you must recall that it may not be done yet,” she said very gently, surely knowing what I was thinking, compassion clear in her every word. “Should Roodar learn of our presence before the Hand is seen to, she may in some manner succeed in alerting the guard. There are not a sufficient number of us to adequately protect you against concerted attack, and should you go down without having seen to the Hand-”

Then the game was over for everyone, Tammad included, I finished in my mind when she let it trail off, my eyes still held by that dark wood door. You might be able to blast the first half dozen or so to come at you, Terry, but what about the ones behind them? The idea of dying is only somewhat upsetting, but what if you die before Tammad is safe? Giving your life for him would be no terribly great sacrifice, but being patient is absolute hell, isn’t it? You’ve talked a lot about the need for self-control and how well you thought you were progressing with it; how about giving one short, decisive example of what you think you’ve accomplished?

“You all of you are here for no purpose other than to assist me in freeing my sadendrak,” I said after a minute, still staring at that door. “The Hand might have been seen to from without the wall about the grounds, had there been none within requiring protection. You all risk your lives on my behalf, a thing I am well aware of. There is surely no more than a short while to wait till the Hand is again assembled.”

“That is surely so,” Leelan said with a lot of warmth and support, the relief showing no place other than in her mind, her hand patting my shoulder before leaving it. Then she hesitated, her thoughts wavering over a decision, but once considered, she felt she had to speak. “Terril,” she said slowly, “we may not enter Roodar’s apartment at this time, yet may we see within it. Would you-wish to do such a thing?”

I turned at last to look at her, wondering what she was talking about, and the expression on my face made her gesture at the room we stood in.

“This wing was meant to house those of high standing who visit the court of Vediaster,” Leelan explained, sounding as though she were trying to distract herself as well as me. “Certain of the apartments here were prepared so that those of questionable motive might be closely watched, and it was one such apartment which Roodar was given by Farian. As neither knew the true purpose of the apartment, those guard w’wendaa who remained loyal to me were able to keep watch upon Roodar without her knowledge, the purpose being to discover for what reason Farian treats her so well.”

“For what reason should she not?” I asked, wondering if there was any ruler anywhere who didn’t spend most of his or her time worrying about everyone around them. “She is a loyal supporter of Farian and, as you yourself said, the finest sword among the Chama’s w’wendaa. For what reason should she not be rewarded?”

“Roodar is given far more than simple reward,” Deegor put in, moving closer to where Leelan and I stood. “She was unknown among us before Farian’s attack, yet now lives higher than any save the Chama herself. Should she wish a thing she need only request it, and Farian immediately makes it hers. It was Roodar, we know, who took the life of Leelan’s mother the Chama when Farian’s power proved stronger, for Farian is not w’wenda and does not wield a sword. Beyond that we know naught of her, and naught of the reason Farian values her so highly.”

“And that despite the constant watch kept upon her,” Leelan said, clearly disgusted. “Her value to the Chama has never been spoken of in her own apartment, yet were we able to learn other things-such as her doing with your memabrak. In truth we should resume the watch post-yet only one or two need do so. As the sight may well be painful for you, you need not feel that you must accompany them.”

She and Deegor watched me carefully as they waited for an answer, and for a moment I truly didn’t know what to say. I was fairly certain I could control myself if I didn’t actually see what they were doing to Tammad—but what if we found them just about to really hurt him’? Nothing would be able to keep me from acting then, and that could well destroy the entire plan. But was the plan worth having Tammad really hurt, maybe even dead? Not to me it wasn’t, and that was one selfish stand all the talk of honor in the universe couldn’t move me from.

“Leelan, I thank you for your concern,” I said at last, raising my eyes to look directly at her. “It may well prove painful to look upon my sadendrak-yet I must.”

“And we all do as we must,” she agreed with something of a nod, then glanced around to gather everyone up. “Let us all take ourselves to the sleeping room, then, and recall that absolute silence will be necessary.”

Deegor led the way into the sleeping room, and the last w’wenda through the door closed it behind her. Our male slave was put to his knees by Leelan just beside that door, his burden on the carpet fur beside him, and after patting him on the head and whispering something in his ear, she left him where he’d been put. The sleeping room was large, and furnished just the way the reception room was, and I happened to notice that some of the white carpet fur was being marked by the remnants of mud we’d brought in on our sandals. The thought crossed my mind that we’d be lucky if mud was all that stained the carpet fur, and then I was carefully watching what Leelan was doing.

The wall of the room directly opposite the door was of white stone as were all the walls, but hung on that wall between yellow silk drapes was a very wide and intricate carving in dark wood, the white stone behind it showing through the gaps in its graceful but meaningless pattern. The carving stretched down the wall almost to the floor, but it was the left side of the thing that Leelan ran her hand over. The sleeping room was dim enough to make us all move closer to see what she was doing, but we were all able to hold back on the gasps when she took hold of one part of the carving and swung it out away from the wall. The carving was really a door, and with a gesture telling us to follow, Leelan led the way into the wall.

The space behind the carving was wider than I’d thought it would be, and it was almost dark when Deegor entered last and pulled the hidden door closed behind us. Leelan, moving without sound, continued on to the right a few paces, waited until we were all in a line next to her again, then groped at something in front of her. A minute later what seemed to be a narrow strip of the wall now in front of us was silently folding upward, Deegor apparently handling the other end of it, and faint light was coming through to the darkness we stood in. The open strip behind was positioned so that someone Leelan’s height would have to bend down a little and someone my height stretch up a small distance, which meant it was essentially eye level for just about anyone. What looked like white curtaining hung over the opening, and stepping forward showed that it could be seen through with very little difficulty.

Very little difficulty if you don’t count what there was to be seen. The room we looked in at was also a sleeping room, decorated in green, tan and white, and wasn’t as empty as the one we’d just passed through. I’d been deliberately keeping my mind well behind its curtain, more than half afraid of what I would find if I reached out, but it wasn’t quite as bad as I’d imagined it. Aside from the normal furnishings of a sleeping room Roodar had added a heavy frame of wood in front of the wide, sunshiny windows, two posts linked to each other with wooden ties at top and bottom as well as a wide, steadying base of minimal thickness, an arrangement that made sure anyone standing on that base in the frame would not be able to knock the whole thing over. The one standing there right then was Tammad, of course, his thick wrists held high by the chains coming from the two posts, his braced legs kept wide by chains on his ankles, his face set in a grim, determined expression. It was easy to see how difficult knocking the frame over would be, because Tammad was trying, his fists clenched in their manacles as his giant body sought to break the posts and send them down in splintered bits to the carpet fur. It looked like he’d been trying for quite some time, but although the posts creaked against the ties holding and bracing them, he couldn’t seem to get either of them to splinter. His naked and collared body was covered with sweat over welts that looked painful and he appeared a little leaner than usual, but aside from that and a desperation in his attempts to break free, he was mostly unharmed.

Relief was too debilitating an emotion for the time and place I was in just then, not to mention somewhat premature, but I still found myself leaning on the wall below the opening rather heavily, my hands flat to it rather than to the body of the man I wanted so desperately to go to. He was far less injured than I had dared to hope for, and it was only a matter of a short while before he would be free. I wanted to laugh and cry in sheer joy, both at the same time—and then a door in the far wall opened to admit two w’wendaa.

Tammad’s struggles stopped almost immediately at the sound of the door opening, and he watched the two women approach from his left with narrowed eyes. The two newcomers were talking together and laughing as they came in, and the laughter didn’t stop when they halted in front of the captive l’lenda.

“It is nearly time to resume your duties, slave,” one of the two said to him, letting her eyes move intrusively over his body. “Should Roodar not have returned by then, it is we who shall see to the matter. You will, of course, give us absolutely no difficulty.”

Tammad stood in the chains holding him and stared down silently at the woman, his jaw set grimly, his hands again turned to fists beyond the manacles. He wasn’t verbally disagreeing with the woman, but his light eyes had developed a stubborn look which the woman didn’t miss.

“I will hear from your own lips that you mean to give no difficulty,” she pursued in a harder voice, stepping onto the frame base to move closer to the man she looked up at with such cold authority. “Must you be reminded once again of the pretty little slave brought here by you, and what her lot has been for your past refusals? She weeps so well when the lash is put to her, that Roodar may soon begin to hope for difficulty from you. We, however, prefer an obedient slave to the sight of a dark-haired weerees writhing upon the stone in pain, therefore do I demand words from you. How will you have it, slave?”

Tammad’s lips parted slightly to show teeth clenched against a snarl of rage, but I could see that his eyes were wild with a sick, twisting worry that kept the snarl from being voiced. So that was the way they held him while he was lucid, I thought with shock and outrage, not just with chains but also with threats against me! They must have told him about it every time Roodar had whipped me, making him believe that the pain I was given was because of him! Not until Leelan’s hand came to my shoulder to steady me did I realize I was trembling, and the rage inside was something I had to hold down by main force.

“I-will give no difficulty, dendaya,” Tammad said then, his voice forced out unwillingly between his teeth, a faint tinge of fear edging it. “You will have no reason to give the girl greater pain, pain which should have been given instead to me. I-was also told that I might perhaps be allowed to see her ....”

“Were you indeed?” the woman interrupted too pleasantly, enjoying the way his stumbling words immediately cut off. “An obedient slave may perhaps be rewarded by his mistress, yet must he first be proven truly obedient. Are you an obedient slave, slave?”

“I-am an obedient slave, dendaya,” her victim answered, looking down at her helplessly. The shame and humiliation he felt were terrible pain, but it was something he had chosen to accept in order to get what he had to have.

“How pleasant to have an obedient slave before one,” the woman said with a purr while the second one laughed, her hands clasped behind her back as she looked upward. “I find you quite attractive, slave. Ask that your dendaya touch you, beg that she honor you.”

There was something of a hesitation, but the victim held chained in place had very little choice. If he wanted what had been promised him, he had to obey.

“I beg you to honor me with a touch, dendaya,” he choked out, his eyes no longer able to meet those of the woman, his voice faint with self-disgust and loathing. He knew what would happen when he said the words, and when the woman put her hand on him, intimately, possessively, his eyes closed entirely with the bottomless humiliation.

“Ah, yes, you find that the touch of your dendaya causes you to tremble, does it not, slave?” The woman laughed, the movement of her hand leaving him in no doubt as to what she held to. “You had best hope that when Roodar returns, she finds interest in the thought of your use. Once the potion is again down your throat, you will cringe and whimper and snivel until you are seen to.”

“I believe it is time that the potion be fetched, sister,” the other woman said, interrupting her own laughter for the purpose. “Roodar will not return for a time, now, yet must he be prepared against that return.”

“And once prepared, I may perhaps use him myself,” the first woman murmured, both hands high to caress the chest and shoulders that couldn’t avoid her touch. “Fetch the potion, sister, the while I allow the nearness of this slave to stir me. ”

The second woman chuckled in amusement and obligingly headed for the door, and I suddenly discovered that Leelan’s hand wasn’t simply on my shoulder any longer. One of her hands held my right arm in a grip that should have been painful while her other hand patted and smoothed my hair, very soft sounds urging me to silence and calm coming from her throat. Somehow Deegor had appeared at my left to do almost the same thing, both of them surely able to see the way my fingers held claw-like to the opening we’d been looking through. I could feel their anxiety and upset surrounding me without having it affect me in the least, but then Deegor’s lips came to my ear, and I could just make out the breath-soft words.

“The Hand of Power, Terril!” she whispered, somehow managing to put urgency into words that were almost soundless. “The output of the Hand has begun again, and they may be seen to in no more than a matter of moments! Hold fast, girl, for it is nearly time!”

I don’t know how often the words had been repeated before I understood them but, once I did, things became worse instead of better. The curtain over my mind had been on the verge of collapse from inner pressure when Deegor distracted me, something both she and Leelan seemed to understand and were trying to keep from happening. I still wanted to explode out at anything in reach, first and foremost against the woman who now stood behind Tammad, trailing her fingers over him, but Deegor was right. The Hand had indeed started broadcasting again, and all I had to do was wait about five minutes to be certain that everyone was prepared and in their place before I stopped it. After that it didn’t matter what I did to the woman, but to touch her before then could ruin everything.

Five more minutes and Tammad would be free—but they were going to make him take that slave drug again.

I ignored the hands on my arms and continued to look through the opening, this time using my hold on the wall to keep me erect. Five minutes and he would be free—but if they gave him that potion it would be another whole day before the effects of the drug left him. Someone who had never been subject to that drug would also never understand how terrible it would be for him, but I’d had experience with that-potion—and I knew. Another whole day of living hell, confused and beaten down and almost afraid to breathe, another day of something worse than death that he would accept without struggle for my sake! I held to the wall and tried to will the time into moving faster, tried to make it all elapse before the second woman came back—but time rarely lets itself be coerced.

When the figure moving slowly with a filled bowl in her hand appeared in the doorway, she should have, by rights, heard the shriek of denial in my mind. She was already back but it was still too soon, and he would swallow it all without a single murmur, thinking he was helping me! I found my back pressed into the unopened back wall of the passage, my fists to my head, so close to losing all control that I thought I would die. If I had to let him swallow that drug I would be useless afterward against the Hand, I knew I would! I had to keep him from accepting it without letting anyone know we were there, had to make him know that I was already free and safe beyond anything they cared to try—

Out of desperation came the answer to my need, and I pulled away from the two Rimilians trying silently to calm me, and went back to look through the opening. The second woman was halfway to the frame, the first now simply standing and awaiting her, and there was no time to lose. I had to tell Tammad I was free, in a way that he couldn’t doubt, in a way that no one else could detect.

It seemed like months or years since I’d done it last, but very deliberately I reached around my curtain to touch my beloved with a kiss. It had been almost a joke between us, a private gesture that no one else was aware of, and all I could do was hope that he would notice and remember. It was so light a thing, and his mind was in such a turmoil, and I couldn’t let my curtain go so that he would be able to feel me there. That second woman had known when the Hand had begun broadcasting again, which meant she was sensitive enough to detect my presence if she were to feel my unshielded mind. All I had to work with was a kiss, and I could feel the soundless scrape of my sword hilt as I pressed my body harder against the wall that separated me from everything that made life worth living.

At first, Tammad didn’t seem to notice the sensation of lips on his as he stood there with his eyes closed, but then, just as the second woman reached the frame, his head came up and a frown took him. I kissed him again, afraid to put too much strength into the sensation to keep it from registering as something other than what it had to be, and this time his eyes opened to show shocked disbelief. I could feel his mind darting around searching for me, the hope rising inside him—but my curtain was still in place and the woman with the drug had already reached him.

“Drink it now, slave!” the first woman ordered in an ugly voice as the second raised the bowl high enough for him to reach, both of them displeased with the way their victim was apparently ignoring them. “Drink it this instant, else shall Roodar have the dark-haired slave brought here, and whipped to crimson ribbons before your eyes!”

The woman’s viciously spoken threat brought the agony of fear to a man who had never before felt fear over anything, and he immediately lowered his head to the bowl and started to drink it down as commanded. There was nothing I could do to stop it, nothing at all—and that’s exactly what I did. Frantically I hit Tammad with absolute denial, hard enough to rattle his teeth, loud enough to make him think someone had screamed, “No!” at the top of their lungs, right into his ear.

His head jerked up again as he cried out with the ringing ache, startling the two women, and that was all I had been waiting for.

Stripping the curtain from my mind, I flashed my thoughts and will and feelings right straight toward the strongly droning Hand of Power. Five minds awaited me where they sat, hands linked together to help with their thought link, five minds opened wide in a pentagram of projection. They really were strong together, much stronger than individual power could account for, but my blast of hatred and fury and frustration and rage hit them so hard and so unexpectedly that they instantly blanked from all sense of perceiving. One instant they were there and the next they were gone, to what fate I had no idea, nor did I care. I’d done what had to be done, and now was free to do as I pleased.

“Leelan, now!” Deegor said excitedly as I looked through the opening at the two guards again. “The Hand is no more! Open the way!”

With a burst of triumph Leelan pushed at the wall in front of us, and then we were stepping out face-to-face with the two shocked guards. The first woman paled and drew her sword, but the second, the one with the bowl, just stood there staring at me, wide-eyed and shaken. My mind was totally unshielded and she could feel the strength and fury in it, and then she felt something else. The first woman had come toward her and put a hand on her shoulder, and then that first woman dropped her sword and snatched the bowl out of the second woman’s hand. The raging thirst she was feeling would let her do nothing else, and before the second woman could shout a warning, the first had already swallowed what she had so desperately needed.

There was a puzzled silence among those who stood with me as the first woman happily wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and the second watched in horror, but that was only because the people with me didn’t know what the drug would do. And then the woman who had been so thirsty frowned, one hand lifting to her head, her eyes widening, her whole body trembling. She was beginning to be very confused and very unsure of herself, and the fear was starting to creep into every part of her, making all the rest of it that much worse. She had seemed to have a very good opinion of the drug while it was still in the bowl; once it was inside her instead, she slid to her knees and began trying to make herself very, very small.

“Amazing,” Deegor breathed from beside me, watching the kneeling woman trying to melt into the carpet fur. “I felt a stirring in the air a moment before the Hand was done, and with this one was aware of no more than that she had been touched. Never before have I seen such precision of control, Terril. ”

“Leelan!” the second guard breathed, finally dragging her eyes away from her former companion and bringing them to the leader of our group. “What has happened to the Hand of Power? What do you do here?”

“What has become of the Hand of Power, I am as yet unable to say,” Leelan answered with a shrug, looking at the other woman coldly. “As for the meaning of my presence, that should surely be obvious. Farian’s time as Chama draws to an end.”

“You will not find it possible to best her,” the woman said, making the effort to pull herself together. “With Roodar beside her, Farian will not be taken even with the aid of one such as that.”

The last word the guard spoke clearly referred to me, but I hadn’t been paying more than token attention to conversation since the first woman had gone cringing to her knees. I’d been moving toward someone who’d had his eyes on me the entire time, and by then I was standing in front of him and gently reaching around his body to hold him as tightly as I’d been dreaming about so long. My mind spread out to smother him with the love I was feeling in the same way my body tried to smother his, drawing a wide, fuzzy-edged feeling of love in response, and the only way it could have been better was if he’d been freed of the chains so that his arms could hold me as well.

“You believe Farian’s power to be a match to Terril’s?” Deegor asked the woman, her voice sounding amused. “The Chama will no more find it possible to withstand her than your sister was able to do.”

“And now we must see to you,” Leelan told the woman, drawing her eyes again. “There are things we must be about, therefore have we little time to dally. We will have your surrender, else will we have your life.”

“To surrender is not done by a true w’wenda,” the woman answered, drawing herself up. “Have at me, then, all of you, in the name of battle against the Chama.”

“We are not Farian, to fall upon a single blade in numbers,” Leelan said disgustedly, her eyes unmoving from the woman, the entire tableau visible to me where I stood. “You shall be given the honor due a w’wenda, and may choose which of us you will face.”

“As I now have your word upon the matter, I shall do exactly that,” the woman answered, her smirk so clear I could see it even with her back to me. “It will please me a great deal when your honor is compromised, O daughter of a dead Chama, for you shall have to do no other thing in order to save the life of one quite close to you. I have been told I might face any among you, none excepted, and to withdraw the offer would be to show dishonor. The one I choose to face is Relgon.”

The woman’s voice rang out triumphantly, her mind viciously delighted that she had found it possible to strike so hard a blow at the opposition. If Leelan honored her word she would lose a close friend and adviser; if she saved her friend’s life by refusing, she would be soiling her own sense of the proper. The woman had it all figured out, and therefore felt nothing but continuing delight when Leelan and her “friend” exchanged looks of surprise.

“Do you mean you wish to face me?” Leelan’s “friend” asked the triumphant guard, the wall of innocence in her mind hiding what was behind. “You would draw a weapon against one who is unarmed?”

“For what reason should I not?” the woman retorted, standing with her left palm resting on her sword hilt. “As I am to lose my life, it will give me great pleasure to be accompanied by another. Take a weapon and face me, woman, else shall your noble friend be forsworn.”

“There is naught else for it, my friend,” Leelan said to the older woman, working hard to feel resigned as she put a hand to her shoulder. “You may use my sword to face her.”

“Very well, Leelan,” the answer came-much more successfully resigned-along with a sigh. “I will be honored to accept your sword. When one is challenged, one must answer.”

The sword in question was solemnly handed over and as solemnly received, and then everyone else stepped back. The guard woman was faintly surprised that Leelan was going to let it go on, but she was also much too satisfied to complain. One way or the other she was determined to hurt Leelan, and she drew her blade with a good deal of relish, anticipating some fun before she had to give up her own life. It didn’t bother her in the least that she was about to slaughter someone who was helpless, but she did feel a bit puzzled when her opponent stopped in front of her and lowered her point.

“Before we begin, I feel I should correct one small misconception on your part,” the helpless victim said in a very mild way, looking at her opponent with steady blue eyes. “We and you know that you are unable to match Leelan with a sword, therefore do you seek to give her harm in another manner. One who would do such a thing is a craven, and totally without honor, and were my sister here even she would have little difficulty in besting you. / shall have no difficulty whatsoever.”

“Your sister?” The woman laughed, still not getting the point, her fist tightening around her hilt. “Your sister is not one I would care to face, yet is it you I have before my blade, Relgon. Your days of accompanying Leelan are done.”

“My days of accompanying Leelan are merely beginning,” the older woman said with a faint smile, tossing her head to rid her shoulders of long blond hair as she raised her point again. “And Relgon is the sister I so recently referred to. I am Deegor. ”

I couldn’t see if the guard woman’s face paled, but her mind certainly did. Deegor was now allowing her grim pleasure to show through, and her opponent was surely able to feel it. The next instant the guard attacked, trying to get with surprise what she couldn’t get with skill, but Deegor was ready for her. Effortlessly the w’wenda blocked the attack, drove the guard back with hard, slashing blows, then knocked her weapon aside and ran her through. I had already shielded against such an end, so I was able to watch the body crumple to the floor fur without doing more than tightening my hold on Tammad just a bit. There was momentary silence while Deegor looked down at her erstwhile opponent, and then we all heard a voice we hadn’t heard in quite some time.

“What occurs here?” the voice demanded, causing us to look around or over toward the wall we had come through. Dallan stood there with his sword in his hand, some small amount of confusion still in his eyes, but for all intents and purposes back to his original self. The sword looked strange with him still in a slave wrap, but no one felt the urge to laugh.

“I see you have released him, Terril,” Leelan said in approval while everyone else began moving purposefully in different directions, Deegor to clean the sword she had just used. “It will save a good deal of time we are now badly in need of. We must reach Farian before she attempts to flee.”

Dallan began again to demand to know what was going on, but then he saw Tammad where he still stood in his chains, and understood that explanations would have to wait. He came over to stand with us while Leelan’s women moved around the room, two of them grabbing the drugged guard where she cringed against a wall, then forcing her to show them where the keys to Tammad’s shackles were. Happily the key was right there in the apartment, hanging on a peg under the spot where Tammad’s sword had been mounted on the wall, and it took only another minute to get him loose. Although he didn’t actually stumble, he was a good deal less steady on his feet than he should have been, but when he wrapped those mighty arms around me that was all I could bring myself to care about.

“How do you fare, brother?” Dallan asked him while the women took off again on errands of their own. “Later you must certainly rest a good while.”

“Later I shall certainly rest,” Tammad answered, his mind vaguely curious. “For what reason are you clad so, brother? I had not known that they had taken you as well.”

“I was not taken,” Dallan answered, giving me a low-browed scowl where I stood with my cheek against Tammad’s chest. “More accurately, I was not taken by those who first took you. We shall speak of the matter-at length-when the attack has been successfully concluded. ”

“We will speak of the matter then,” Tammad agreed, still seeming understandably confused and vague, but that was all the time we had for talk. Leelan’s w’wendaa brought over Tammad’s sword and the dark green haddin they’d found, and Deegor and Leelan pulled me bodily away from the arms I didn’t want to leave.

“Terril, we must now hurry on,” Leelan said without giving me the chance to do more than make a single sound in protest. “Your memabrak must dress and join us, and then we shall seek out Farian. There are no others of her guard remaining in this apartment.”

She seemed rather disappointed at that, something that made Deegor grin, but I was forced to admit I understood how she felt. I now had what I wanted, but there were others who didn’t.

So I stood and waited while Tammad dressed himself and added his swordbelt, during which time Dallan returned briefly to the other apartment to retrieve his own swordbelt. It didn’t take long before everyone was ready, but when Tammad came over toward me and said, “Terril,” Deegor stepped between us and raised a hand in his direction.

“You may not have her,” she said in a firm but kindly voice as she looked up at him. “There are others who now need her more, as you can surely understand. There is a battle to be fought and won.”

“Yes, battles must be won,” Tammad agreed, terribly disappointed but feeling no urge to argue. He was struggling weakly against the confusion he still felt, but everything was happening so fast around him, and he was so tired after all he’d been through.

“For what reason would it be detrimental to our battle if I were to simply walk beside him?” I asked, annoyed that I was being positioned between Leelan and Deegor as we began to leave the apartment. “Are you of the opinion that your efforts toward my safety would be greater than his?”

“His great fatigue aside, certainly not,” Deegor said with a distracted nod of agreement from Leelan, a reassuring touch on the shoulder coming from the older woman. “Were the matter one of your safety alone, you might certainly walk beside him. Fortunately or unfortunately we shall likely find fighting in the corridors, and you are the one who bears the only sword I might use. I would take it now to free you of the necessity of remaining beside me, yet might we well require again the belief that I am Relgon. The time should not be long. ”

The time should not be long. It seemed to me I’d already had to wait far too long, but I couldn’t really argue with Deegor’s need. I cast one longing look back at Tammad where he followed with Dallan, then let the two w’wendaa from Vediaster navigate me through the door.

The corridor we exited into was empty, but all of a sudden we were able to hear the sound of swordplay, an unguessable distance off. The battle really was on, but inside the apartment we hadn’t been able to tell. Despite the way all of me had wanted to concentrate on nothing but Tammad, I’d still kept a good portion of my mind alert for any attempt to replace the Hand of Power. Now I realized consciously what I’d known all along: that there hadn’t been even a whisper of a try at replacing them, no matter who had or hadn’t been there when they’d gone down. Their room was located somewhere in the center of the palace, I’d been told, and they must have had guards around them—or maybe not. Siitil had thought they were guarded, but maybe it was only from the outside of a room. Inside-who could hurt the Hand of Power?

I was tempted to ask what the exact arrangements were, but Leelan and Deegor were too busy looking around carefully as we moved along the corridor for me to distract them. Leelan and her four w’wendaa had their swords out and Deegor was practically on top of me to my left, but Dallan and Tammad followed along with their swords sheathed. The men were only there as a just-in-case, I remembered, and somehow they seemed to accept that; if the battle was waged by w’wendaa alone, they would not try to involve themselves.

The next few minutes were enjoyable only if you like nerve-wracking experiences; for those like me who tend to prefer more peaceful circumstances, the best thing to be said about the time is that we weren’t attacked. We moved from corridor to corridor, Leelan, for the most part, leading the way, but the fighting we could hear continued to be found elsewhere. I had the distinct impression I was the only one who appreciated that fact, though, and tried to imagine how I would feel if I could actually use the weapon I wore. Most of the minds around me were eager to get into the thick of things, eager to come face-to-face with the enemy, and that was an outlook I wasn’t used to. Avoiding difficulties was more the Centran way of doing things, and despite my former penchant for kicking up a fuss, I’d spent most of my life doing the same.

We finally reached one particular corridor that wasn’t empty, but rather than get upset my companions were elated. There were unmoving, yellow-clad bodies on the no-longer-white stone floors, more yellow-clad bodies still up and moving, and a good deal more breeches-clad figures standing around with them. Although swords were out no one was fighting, and after a moment I realized the women before us were all on our side. They were gathered in front of intricately-carved dark wood double doors, and as we came up to them, Siitil stepped out of their midst.

“Leelan, the battle has gone well,” she said at once, looking almost unrecognizable with all the agitation and frustration gone from her. “When the Hand ceased its output we attacked at once, yet have we now been halted for a time in our forward progress. The usurper is behind these doors, and we are unable to open them without a ram. As I have already sent for one, it should be here momentarily.”

“Excellent,” Leelan answered with a very cold smile, looking at the doors rather than at Siitil. “It should not be long, then.”

At first I thought Leelan was simply repeating what Siitil had said, but then it came to me that the wait she was referring to was the one necessary before she might face Farian. Her mind was a good deal colder than her smile, and I might have considered shivering if the ram hadn’t been brought up just at that moment.

Four w’wendaa carried a heavy metal table, four others having gone along to guard them, and everyone else moved out of the way to give them room to do what they had to. I wanted to spend the waiting time next to Tammad, but Deegor and Leelan were still flanking me, and a number of w’wendaa had positioned themselves around and behind us all. The women began swinging the table at the doors, immediately ruining the carvings and producing a loud, grimly insistent cadence, and the eagerness in the minds all around me began building again.

No one can tell me that the thoughts of the people in that corridor didn’t do as much as that table to force open those doors. If the building anticipation had gone on even one more minute I would have had to shield, but the doors turned out to be more fragile than my reluctance to blind myself. They crashed open with the sound of snapping wood, the women with the metal table were quickly gotten out of the way, and then we were all moving into the room they had tried so hard to keep us out of.

The room itself was rather larger than I had expected, with a big oval platform directly ahead in front of the far wall, and although there was a door in both the left- and right-hand walls, there were no windows. Rows of candles illuminated the white stone of the walls, ceiling, and uncovered floor, and made seeing the three knots of almost motionless women very easy, as though it were a picture we were looking at rather than reality. To the right stood those who were unarmed, one almost on top of the next, their minds running the gamut from excited elation to petrified fear, their faces showing the same. To the left were at least a dozen yellowclad w’wendaa, their swords in their fists and their minds grim, their faces showing nothing but determination. The w’wendaa, it appeared, were just as motionless as the first group, most likely due to the fact that we outnumbered them more than two to one, which made attacking us not the best of ideas.

The third group was the smallest of all, but that, most certainly, was the one that got the greatest amount of attention.

Standing on the raised platform amid the silks arid furs and cushions were six people, two of whom were Farian and Roodar. The other four were w’wendaa who seemed to be a bit more prepared to fight than the ones standing on the floor to the left, and a brief but intense burst of disappointment came from the back of our own group. With not a single l’lenda in sight Dallan knew he was out of luck as far as any fighting went, and he was probably cursing that luck in a silence to match the rest of the silence around us. There wasn’t a single sound in that entire room—until Leelan stopped our advance with a gesture, then moved one additional pace forward alone.

“Your time as Chama is done, Farian,” she announced in ringing tones, grim satisfaction and pleasure filling every part of her, her head held high and proud. “Surrender to us now, and you shall be permitted to live a short while longer.”

“Shall I, indeed,” the woman Farian murmured in return, cold fury in the light eyes looking down at Leelan, her whole bearing set into regal outrage. “I am unsurprised that you call for my surrender, girl, for in no manner would you find it possible to best me without it. You are, however, destined for disappointment in your demands. I have no intentions of surrendering. ”

The woman stood tall and straight in her rose-colored silk shirt and breeches, her slender body giving the impression that she was unarmed more through choice than due to lack of skill, and I finally understood why I had no memory of the strength of her mind. She was the first Rimilian I had come across who was capable of shielding, undoubtedly the “denial” which had been mentioned in relation to her. There was something odd about the shield—I could see that immediately—but defining exactly what the oddness was was something I didn’t have the time for just then.

“Honor demanded that the offer be made,” Leelan came back immediately, projecting calm regality of her own. “Those with honor shall ever display it, even to one such as you. Which of these do you choose to stand for you?”

“With a sword?” Farian asked, suddenly showing spiteful amusement. “It was my understanding that you meant to challenge me, girl; have you discovered an understandable reluctance for a doing such as that? You will attempt to beat me with the weapon which bested my Hand of Power?”

“You will be bested with precisely the same weapon, woman,” Leelan answered, stressing the word wenda just as Farian had been stressing the word, treda. She saw as we all did that Farian didn’t know what had knocked out her Hand of Power, which meant she hadn’t detected the fairly tight beam I’d used. “It was merely my intention to allow you a form of defense which will be useless to you after personal challenge has been given. Should this, however, not be in accordance with your wishes . . . . ”

“It happens that such a thing is exactly in accordance with my wishes,” Farian said with a smirk, her anger at being called wenda quickly swallowed. “You think to face my good right arm, and then allow Relgon there to strive to her utmost against me. What will truly occur, however, is that first my good right arm will strike you down, decisively yet no so far that you will be unable to see me best your chosen power, and then the two of you will be slain. After that those others will be taken, and will be clearly taught the consequences of the folly they engaged in. Let it begin now.”

Farian raised her arms in a theatrical gesture designed to look more impressive than ridiculous, and when Roodar immediately began descending the steps toward Leelan, that was the way everyone took it. The gesture said it was the Chama who was allowing the fight to start, and no matter how angry that made Leelan, there was nothing she could do about it but step forward and draw her sword.

Roodar unsheathed her blade a good deal more slowly, at first looking at everyone in our group except Leelan, her expression completely calm and unconcerned. There was no recognition in her eyes when her gaze swept past me, but when it touched Tammad she smiled very faintly, as though pleased that someone had thought to bring something of hers along. Deegor’s hand on my shoulder showed me I’d actually taken one step forward in mindless rage, but no one else seemed to have noticed, especially not Roodar. She had already turned her full attention to Leelan, and so had everyone else. All I could do was stand there with fists clenched, staring at that so-called w’wenda, wishing with everything inside me that it could have been me facing her with swords instead of someone else doing it.

The someone else named Leelan, however, was more than pleased with the arrangement. She and Roodar were both big women, and the swords they held in their fists were held with strength and skill. Roodar wore the yellow of the guard and Leelan was dressed in shirt and breeches of green, but that seemed to be the only difference between them. Both were young, both had long blond hair held back with leather headbands, both stared at one another with blue eyes, and both were eager to get down to cases.

Almost no time at all was spent in circling before the first ring of blades came, a vicious overhand cut initiated by Roodar. Leelan blocked it and swung in answer, and Roodar was the one who had to move fast to keep from getting chopped. The yellow-clad w’wenda retaliated with a series of blows designed to get through to her opponent with speed and strength, but Leelan stopped the attack with strength and skill, then began an attack of her own. The two were very well matched, but the elation in the thoughts of the people around me led me to believe that it was clear, even in the few minutes the fight had been in progress, that Leelan was Roodar’s superior and would soon prove it.

Which turned out to be a conclusion reached by someone other than the people who were on Leelan’s side. I, like everyone else, was so intent on watching the fight that when Leelan stumbled and almost dropped her guard, all I could do was gasp in dismay, expecting to see the fight ended immediately but in the wrong way. Roodar moved in to attack without hesitation, almost as though she’d been expecting something like that, and if Leelan had been any slower she would have died. She’d gone to one knee to catch her balance, her mind clanging with confusion and lack of understanding, and managed to bring her sword up barely in time to keep her head from being opened. She took two or three blows like that before being able to regain her feet, and the minds around me were no longer as confident as they had been.

I suppose it was the confusion in Leelan’s mind that first made me suspicious, a confusion that said as clearly as words that there had been no real reason for the w’wenda to have lost her balance. Leelan was shaken by not understanding why it had happened, and that made me take my attention away from the fight to look around, something no one else was doing. For that reason no one else noticed that some of the guard w’wendaa to our left seemed to be just regaining their own balance, as though what had happened to Leelan was a sickness that had struck them as well. For a moment I couldn’t understand at all why that should be, and then it suddenly came to me that they had been in a direct line behind Leelan when she had been struck. That fact still made no sense-until I remembered how impressed everyone had been over my being able to touch Hestin without also touching the people behind him.

My eyes went to Farian then, where she stood with languid ease watching the ongoing fight, a faint smile on her pretty face and anticipated victory in her eyes. Her shield still seemed to be firmly in place, but I was ready to bet any amount named that it had dropped briefly to allow her to touch Leelan-with a spillover onto the people behind her target. Farian was no more capable of precise control than anyone else on that world, and was determined to win no matter what had to be done to guarantee it.

I stirred where I stood next to Deegor, angry but also confused. The way the guard w’wendaa were acting showed the spillover clearly, but if Farian had so little precision control, how had she missed Roodar? Her “good right arm” had been directly in the line of fire, so to speak, so whatever had happened to Leelan should also have happened to the other woman-only it hadn’t. There was something there that I was missing, something I wasn’t taking into account—and then a very unpleasant thought occurred to me. I moved my eyes from Farian to Roodar, the woman I’d so wanted to face, and couldn’t keep from shuddering.

Roodar was still completely engaged with Leelan, and when I reached out to touch her mind, she wasn’t any more aware of it than her opponent was. I could feel a very faint play of thoughts in her mind, the sort that were usually accompanied by any number of emotions, but in her case the accompaniment wasn’t there. Roodan wasn’t incapable of feeling emotions, at least not the stronger emotions like hate and envy and desire and pleasure, but wherever she felt them, on whatever level of her mind, it wasn’t a place accessible to empaths. Roodar was a null, and totally untouchable by mind power.

I put an unsteady hand to my head as I continued to watch the furious exchange between the two women warriors, just as shaken as I’d been the first time I’d touched a null. There weren’t many of them, happily, but to an empath that was still much too many. Nulls seemed to live on a different plane from everyone else, to look at things with alien eyes, and I’d never been able to accept their differences with anything even approaching calm. Even as I stood there I felt a terrible sense of impending disaster, a conviction that something horrible was going to happen, all no doubt due to my aversion to nulls. It was no longer any wonder why Tammad had been unable to touch her during his lucid periods, and no longer odd that Farian treated her the way she did. Roodar had to be the one who had helped Farian overcome the former Chama and the one she expected to help her overcome her present challenger. It came to me then that I was that challenger, and that if Roodar bested Leelan, the most skilled w’wenda among us, the next target for the big guard woman’s sword would be me.

Or, worse than that, she would simply treat me the way she had the last time, making me a slave who could never get free. The thought of such a fate made me tremble uncontrollably, giving me a sense of nakedness and helplessness despite the breeches and shirt I wore, despite the weapon at my side, despite the strength of my mind. If Leelan fell then I did too, much lower than to mere death, and that wasn’t something I could allow to happen. I was afraid, very much afraid, and found to my surprise that sometimes fear gave you a strength that was only supposed to come from courage.

I turned my attention back to Farian, just in time to see that the Chama wasn’t pleased with the way Leelan had recovered her balance and confidence. Her frown recognized the fact that Roodar was visibly losing ground and points, and might soon lose the final and most important point. Her shield somehow-flickered-as though it were opening and closing faster than anyone could detect, and I instantly became aware of the heavy uncertainty being sent toward Leelan. As soon as that uncertainty hit the w’wenda, Roodar was sure to try to do the same-possibly more successfully than the first time.

I wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but without any conscious effort on my part my mind was suddenly between Leelan and that bolt of uncertainty, my shield up to protect both of us. The projected emotion hit my shield and clung to it, trying to soak through, but it had less chance of doing that than a cupful of water had to penetrate marble. The unsupported emotion began sliding off then, weakening and dissipating, and the fight went on without Leelan knowing anything had been attempted against her.

But Farian knew. The woman who called herself Chama straightened in shock, not understanding why Leelan hadn’t been affected, and suddenly there was another touch on my shield. When the same lack of response happened Farian tried a third time, but by then it was too late. Even as the touch slammed into my shield Leelan was furiously beating aside Roodar’s sword, and then the null lost all need to ever feel anything again. Leelan’s blade was buried in her chest, directly between her breasts, and her own sword slid from lifeless fingers. Right to the end Roodar had shown almost nothing of emotion, and that was the way she died. Leelan withdrew her weapon with a jerk, and a dead, calm-faced Roodar slid to the once-white floor.

“And that, I believe, sees to that,” Leelan said in a short-breathed but triumphant way as she turned to a palefaced, disbelieving Farian. “And now, O Chama, we must see to you as well.”

“See to me?” Farian breathed with instant fury, drawing herself up again as outrage flashed in her eyes. “There are none among you capable of seeing to me, and that I will prove with every bit of my strength! Step out to face me, Relgon, and we will soon see which of us remains beyond the last of it!”

Farian was glaring at Deegor, too wildly out of control to think about what had happened to Roodar any longer, too far into the mists of rage to realize that what had protected Leelan was not something to be expected from Relgon. The older woman who stood beside me smiled very faintly, then shook her head.

“Were my sister here, she would surely accommodate you, Farian,” she drawled, still feeling a twin’s amusement at being mistaken for her sibling. “I, however, am Deegor, and scarcely the one you were meant to face.”

“Who, then, has been chosen?” Farian demanded, glaring around with even more confidence than she had previously shown, indicating clearly that Relgon’s strength had likely worried her a little. With Relgon elsewhere, though, her confidence was returning to bolster a bravado based on anger.

“The one who has been chosen to face you is here,” Leelan said, putting a hand out to gesture me to her. As I stepped forward Farian’s eyes immediately glued themselves to me, and her frown was one of disdain mixed with confusion.

“Your chosen champion is a small, odd-looking w’wenda?” she asked as nastily as it’s possible to do, obviously trying to make me feel out of place and not very capable. “The power would be shamed to find itself in a vessel such as that. Has it ever been given a name?”

“It has indeed been given a name,” I said before Leelan could reply, at the same time reaching up and pulling off the wig I’d been wearing. “Its name is Terril.”

Farian narrowed her eyes as I shook my hair out, a faint worry touching her as memory of me returned, but then she remembered what she thought she’d seen of my ability and she laughed.

“You come here behind one who was previously able to do no more than flee in terror?” she said to Leelan, delighted taunting clear in her voice. “I have only to best one who is nearly empty, and then I may do with the rest of you as I please? I am truly well-served, Leelan, by your not having been slain. It will now be possible to have you watch the slow deaths of your closest sisters before you, yourself, are sent to the one I have chosen to band you.”

As the last of her venom-filled words ended, her shield flickered again, and what was being thrown at me was the terror she’d mentioned a moment earlier, thickened and edged with vindictiveness. I had just enough time to see that before my own shield snapped closed, protecting me from the attack and surprising me all over again. I hadn’t willed the shield, hadn’t had the time to do so any more than I’d had the time when Leelan had been the target, but the shield was there anyway. It seemed that I’d finally developed what I’d always wanted, an automatic shield that appeared when I needed it, and if I’d had the time I would have been elated.

What kept me from having the time was Farian’s continued attack, four further bolts when the first clearly had no effect. I had the impression from the impacts that the woman was beginning to tire, and when the raging attacks suddenly stopped I wasn’t surprised.

“What is it that you hide behind?” she demanded, just short of frothing at the mouth, her fists clenched as she leaned toward me. “To hide is not to stand and fight, for victory may not then be yours. Strip away the covering as I have done, girl, and let us meet mind to mind.”

Her challenge was filled with mockery, daring me to show her what I had. hooked up at her for a very brief moment, then shrugged my shoulders.

“You have not before truly seen my mind, Farian,” I said, feeling more than a touch of spiteful enjoyment. “Learn now what lies behind the curtain.”

With that I dropped my shield, and had the very great satisfaction of seeing Farian pale and drop her jaw. The woman’s unshielded mind was strong all right, probably about as strong as Relgon’s, but it was immediately clear that it couldn’t compare to mine. Farian’s sudden trembling showed that she knew it, and then her shield was abruptly back in place.

“I declare this challenge now done,” she said in a rush, her voice uneven despite her attempts to steady it. “It cannot be denied that I bared my mind to hers, yet did she fail to best me. In accordance with the laws of this land, I continue to be Chama and shall continue to be obeyed. Lay down your weapons, and submit to binding.”

The uproar that broke out at that was nearly deafening, almost as bad as the dismay and misery and gasping horror in the minds around me. The knot of guard w’wendaa raised their swords again with grins of delight, and although the group I stood in front of moaned in agony, none of them raised swords in answer.

“What is it?” I asked Leelan, suddenly afraid of what was being felt by our w’wendaa. “What does she mean, and why do you not prepare yourself to resist?”

“In what manner may we resist?” Deegor demanded as she came up behind us, nearly shouting to be heard over the others, her mind almost as frantic and defeated as Leelan’s. “Did Farian not answer our challenge, just as she was bound to do? She bared her mind to you, Terril, and you failed to strike. By the law of our land she now stands victorious, and we, ourselves, honor-bound to obey. In the name of all you hold dear, for what reason did you fail to strike?”

The question was filled with more bewildered hurt than I would have expected from the older woman, and I couldn’t have felt it more if she’d underscored it by plunging a dagger into my chest. I felt the same from Leelan, who had turned away to keep from having to look at me, and from the others behind us, two of whom were crying, and the shocked knowledge that I’d failed them brought to my own mind the desperate need to defend myself.

But no one said I had to do anything to her, I protested in the silence I couldn’t seem to break, throbbing under Deegor’s continued stare. They never told me I had to strike at her!

What did you think they wanted you to do? another part of my mind countered, disgust dripping from every word. Did you think besting someone meant showing off what a pretty glow your mind has, and leaving it at that? They trusted you, Terry, and they depended on you, and after everything they went through they can now thank you for their failure.

But I’m not a warrior! I nearly wailed, more sick to my stomach than the Hand of Power had made me. All the breeches and all the swords in the world won’t make me one, and they should have known that! They should have known better than to have their very lives depend on me!

The inner voice didn’t have anything to say to that, but not because there wasn’t anything to say. My sense of time suddenly shifted so that everything around me slowed nearly to a standstill, giving me all the opportunity I needed to finally admit that my failure hadn’t been one of lack of knowledge. I’d known they’d expected me to do to Farian what I’d accidentally done to that original group of conspirators, but that was the whole problem. It was Farian they wanted me to do it to!

I closed my eyes with the terrible ache I felt, knowing that if it had been Roodar instead, I would have been able to do anything necessary. I’d hated Roodar and still did, for what she’d done to me and what she’d done to Tammad, and striking at her would have been easy. Farian hadn’t exactly been sweetness and light, but although I detested everything she stood for and disliked her personally, she wasn’t even responsible for raising those male slaves. I didn’t like her, but I didn’t hate her!

Isn’t that somewhat childish? the something inside me asked, this time sounding slightly more patient. An infant has to have an emotional reason for doing or not doing something, but adults know how to deal with abstracts. And know how to accept the responsibility for their actions, without needing an excuse to point to. Farian has to be stopped for everyone else’s good, no matter how much pain-of-conscience it gives you to do it. No hate to fly along on, no grudge to blind your awareness, just the need of the people around you. Have you grown up enough to do it on that basis, with your eyes wide open and your mind free of uncertainty?

That terrible question hung in front of me, so direct that all I wanted to do was look away, and then I thought of a way out. If I let that emotionless, uncaring state take me over the way it had when I’d faced Tammad, everything would be done the way it had to be. The coldness would see to it that Farian was bested, and I wouldn’t have to get involved at—

It didn’t take the inner voice to stop that thought, and I was suddenly more ashamed than when my “master” had strapped me in front of the guard. If I let the coldness take over there would be nothing to worry about, nothing but my absolute inability to take responsibility for my own actions. I would continue to be the coward who ran away from everything, the child who always had to have someone else to blame for what she did. Tammad had given me permission to make decisions about my abilities, but not because he had continued to think of that decision as his to make; I was the one who had needed it to be spelled out, who had had to be forced away from the crutch. No one can or has to give a l’lenda permission to do anything, and at long last I really understood what that meant.

I finally looked up from my inner dialogue, and was somewhat surprised to see that no more than a minute or so could have passed. Deegor was still staring at me with pain in her eyes, the women of our group were still torn apart by the thought of what their adherence to honor was about to make them do, and turning around showed Farian well on the way to full restoration of her usual arrogance. Triumph shone out of her eyes as she began congratulating herself on her brilliant stroke, but the congratulations were just a bit premature.

I can’t honestly say I was fully confident, but there was no uncertainty in me when I projected a strong, general blast of static designed to reach everyone in the room. Silence descended faster than any amount of shouting would have accomplished, giving me a backdrop against which I took one step forward toward the woman on the platform.

“You are mistaken, Farian,” I said with something close to true calm, seeing her immediate shift to petulant anger at being disagreed with. “This challenge is not yet done, for my failure to strike was an attempt to allow you to surrender without being harmed. Should you refuse to accept this offer upon the moment, it will then be withdrawn.”

“Ah, I see,” Farian answered with a ridiculing smirk, her brows raised in amused revelation. “You failed to strike when my mind was bared, solely out of a sense of honor. Now that I have again raised denial to protect me, you call for my surrender else shall I be struck. You are a fool, girl, and shall soon be an enslaved fool. I refuse to surrender, therefore you are invited to strike.”

Her smirk was really outstanding by then, a sign of her absolute confidence in how safe she was, emboldened even further by the mutter of surprise and confused dismay coming from my own people. Farian was convinced that nothing could get through her shield, just as convinced as everyone else was, but I was betting they were all wrong.

I sent my inner sight right up to her shield just as I had done with Len, but found it considerably more of a shock than his. The oddness I’d noted when we first got to the room resolved itself into something I’d never seen before, something clearly developed by people who weren’t from Centran stock. Rather than being a sphere, Farian’s shield was more like shifting diagonal lines, fast-moving lines that seemed to allow no way through them. They weren’t really solid any more than my shield or Len’s was solid, but the overall effect of the lines made them very difficult to look at. Causing mental eyestrain seemed to be one of the ways the shield protected its possessor, and very briefly I nearly felt outclassed and defeated.

But only very briefly. What I’d thought of as the coldness was suddenly there supporting me, calming and smoothing my own emotions so that I could work without being distracted. I knew then that that was its purpose, a way of controlling myself when I really needed the control, not something that took me over and dehumanized me. It was there to be used, not allowed full control, the master of a child but the tool of an adult. I didn’t know how far I’d moved along the road toward adulthood, but a tool like that was something I truly needed right then.

Getting my own emotions out of the way let me really look at the shield, and it was then that I became aware of the time interval of the shifting. Matching the shift was the key to getting through the shield, that rather than trying to go around it. I didn’t think it was possible to go around a shield like that, and thinking about the time interval immediately set my mind into an attempt to shift in the same direction and at the same speed that the lines did. The coldness continued its support as my mind moved faster and faster—and then I was matched to the interval and sliding through.

After giving me her permission to strike, Farian had herself struck a pose, a languid stance of derision and insult meant to rub her untouchability in my face. The couple of minutes it took me to match up were enough to increase her confidence even more, and she had just begun a sneeringly dirty laugh when I passed her protection and touched her mind. If not for the coldness I would have pulled back immediately in disgust and horror, utterly repelled by the peculiar brand of madness she possessed. Farian had never been denied anything in her entire life, and rather than set her own boundaries and learn necessary self-denial where others were concerned, she had opted for going after and getting everything there was in reach. No matter what she had to do to get it. No matter whom she had to hurt. The ultimate spoiled brat who would never stop until she had it all.

Supported by the coldness I retained my touch, and Farian’s laugh turned instantly into a scream, her hands going to her head as though she thought she could physically thrust me away. Absolute silence returned with that scream, a shocked and disbelieving silence, but one that seemed to understand exactly what had happened.

“No!” Farian screamed again, her eyes wild with fear, her hands still at her head. “I cannot bear to be hurt! I give you my surrender and you must accept it!”

Her mind really was frantic, mainly due to the lack of self-confidence she’d always suffered from, but I could see that surrender was a weapon to her, a way of protecting herself from someone stronger until she had the opportunity to knife them in the back. That was the way she’d always used to get out of paying for the things she’d been caught doing, but if I let her get away with it I’d be as guilty of her next viciousness as she was.

“The opportunity to surrender was given you earlier, just before your rejection of it,” I said, wishing I could simply let her go but knowing it wasn’t possible. “The option was then taken from you, and will not now be restored. You chose to give misery and pain and deceit when you could have given happiness and easing and honor; as you gave, so shall you get. ”

She screamed again when the misery and pain hit her, two things she had never really felt before. Wide-eyed and hysterical she fell to her knees, her mind screaming louder than her throat, and then she found that she hadn’t yet had the worst of it. I sent a hint of remorse and pity, leading her to believe I was going to relent, and then hit her even harder instead. Deceit always made the ultimate betrayal even worse for the victim, and she choked and foamed at the mouth before collapsing face down on the platform. Her mind was now clanging with shock, her shield long gone in uselessness, and that was when Deegor slowly mounted the steps of the platform to stand over her, a sword in the w’wenda’s hands. She looked down at Farian less with pity than with a sense of justice having been served, slowly raised the sword twohanded above her head, then brought it whistling down. I had just enough time to break my contact with Farian and throw up my shield before the sword found its target with a sickening “thwunk,” and then it was all over and I was left standing there and trembling, my duty done but my soul sick because of it.

“Terril, you have given us our victory!” Leelan said as she suddenly came up beside me, quickly putting an arm around my shoulders in the abrupt bedlam. She was absolutely euphoric at having won after all just when defeat had looked so certain, but she was also aware of how hard it had been for me, and not due to inadequate mental strength. It was true I was beginning to feel really tired, but she knew my problem had had nothing to do with that.

“All of Vediaster now owes you its thanks,” she said, her voice and eyes gentle as she looked down at me. “It was you alone who had the ability to free us, and this you did despite the pain it gave you. Naught save a true sense of honor could have seen the thing done, for we know you likely could have saved yourself alone. All shall honor the one who has so truly earned it.”

I looked up at her with a small frown, but what she’d said was entirely accurate. With Roodar dead there wasn’t anyone around who could have made me a slave again, and I’d known it even if the knowledge hadn’t been conscious. I could have gotten Tammad and myself out of there but hadn’t, finding it more necessary to stay and free everyone else as well. Thinking about Tammad caused me to begin to turn to look for him, but that was when Deegor made her way back to us.

“And now we have only to install the new Chama in her place,” she said, having noted with approval the way her w’wendaa were disarming and tying the guards who had served Farian. The knot of unarmed women to the right weren’t being bothered, and a good many of them seemed overjoyed.

“It has not occurred to me to wonder who has been chosen to be Chama in place of Farian,” I said, taking a deep breath in an effort to put it all behind me until I had the time for solitary consideration. “Surely Leelan has the greatest claim, for it was she whose mother was the rightful Chama. ”

“Leelan cannot be Chama,” Deegor said with an incredulous laugh, staring at me in a very odd way. “Our Chama must be possessed of the power, which we all know she is not. Also is there another matter, as fully a part of our laws as that. Surely you know . . . .”

“Deegor, you must allow me to explain,” Leelan said, interrupting, looking for all the world as though she’d been caught in a high-spirited prank that others might not consider very amusing. “Well might it be looked upon as dishonorable to have failed to speak of the matter more fully at an earlier time, yet did I hold no single thing back and indeed brought most of it to your attention, Terril. It was very much a matter of need, therefore did I . . . . ”

“Leelan, please,” I interrupted in turn, suffering almost as much from her discomfort as she was. “You need not go on in such a way, for our lives will not continue forever. As there is a thing you wish to tell me, you need do no more than speak of it.”

“Perhaps you are correct,” she said, glancing guiltily at a frowning Deegor, and then she squared her shoulders and plunged into it. “Terril, the laws of Vediaster demand that she who bests the current Chama, be made Chama in her place. It is a thing known to us all and expected.”

“A thing known to you all,” I echoed, briefly wondering why each shock I got had to be worse than the one before. “Known to you all, yet never quite mentioned to me. Now that all matters of battle are seen to, I am lightheartedly informed that I am the new Chama. A pity this was not mentioned earlier, for I have no desire to be Chama, nor shall I be. You must find another for the honor.”

“Terril, you cannot refuse,” Deegor said quickly, putting a restraining hand on my arm as she cast a look of daggers at a supposedly shamefaced Leelan. “You most certainly should have been told of this sooner, yet does the lack do naught to change matters. By law you are Chama, and Chama you must remain.”

“You have given so much to Vediaster,” Leelan added with a corner of her hidden satisfaction showing, her expression one of smooth urging. “Surely you will not refuse to allow Vediaster to give to you in return?”

“I will not be Chama,” I repeated with all the calm I could manage, looking up at each of them in turn. “This country is not mine, nor do I mean to remain in it. You must find another to be Chama.”

“We will discuss the matter,” Deegor said in a soothing way, her hand patting my shoulder, and then she had to turn away because of a sudden disturbance between some of the prisoners and their captors. Leelan glanced at me then hurried after the older w’wenda, not about to leave herself in a place where she might have to answer any awkward questions, and that left me technically alone. I knew I didn’t want to discuss anything with anybody—and then I turned to find Tammad’s eyes on me, from where he stood just a few feet away. Why he hadn’t come closer I had no idea, but rather than worry about it I went to him.

“Did you hear that nonsense?” I asked him softly in Centran, putting my arms around his body as he gently folded me in his own arms. “If they think I’m staying here to be Chama, they’re out of their minds. You’re the only thing I’m interested in, and you’re the one I’m staying with.”

“I may not have you,” he answered in an oddly calm voice, oddly calm because of what he was saying. “There are others who now need you more, and such a thing must be understood and accepted. Battles are meant to be fought and won. ”

“You battled with the desire to keep me, and that’s the battle you won?” I asked in shock, looking unbelievingly up into his expressionless face. “Just like that, it’s all over between us, and you have nothing more to say about it than that you understand and won’t argue? You never hesitated to give me away temporarily because of your sense of duty and honor; you can’t possibly mean you’re now going to do it permanently?”

He looked down at me with his usual calm and not the least trace of denial, just short of a frown as he groped for the right words to say what there couldn’t be any right words for, and that was when Dallan came over, followed by Hestin. I didn’t know where the healer had suddenly appeared from, but he wasn’t the only new arrival. People were streaming in through the doors we’d broken down, and the noise level would probably soon be out of control.

Hestin began by not saying a word, but instead let his hands do their job. He touched Tammad on the chest, on the back, and finally put his fingers to his head, then turned to Dallan.

“Your suspicions were entirely correct,” he told the drin of Gerleth, his tone merely disapproving but his mind outraged. “This man has been so badly abused that he is near dropping from exhaustion and pain. We must lose no time finding a place where he may rest.”

“Let us all seek such a place together,” Dallan answered, stepping to Tammad’s other side to reach for his arm. “Should any attempt to dispute your choice, I shall see to persuading them. ”

Hestin was pleased with Dallan’s grim promise, and between them they gently disengaged Tammad’s arms from around me, then began leading him out of the room. Although he turned his head once to look at me before disappearing through the doors, he made no attempt to resist the urgings of the other two men, or to change his mind about what he’d said. I stood staring at the doorway long after they were gone, too numb to feel anything, too numb to think.

After a while someone, Leelan, I think, found me just standing there, and immediately decided that I could probably use some rest. I was led to a very large room with a wide bed of costly furs on it, my swordbelt was unstrapped from around my waist, I was helped onto the bed and my sandals were removed, and then I was left alone. It was very pleasant in that extremely large room, the furnishings were in very good taste, and even the predominantly golden decor wasn’t tedious. It came to me that that was probably the Chama’s bedroom, and I suddenly realized how important I’d become. I was the center of attention there, the hero of the hour, and no one would ever look down on me again.

I turned to my left side on the bed furs, still too deeply lost in the massive folds of shock to be anything but disbelieving, that and somewhat bewildered. After everything that had happened between us, after all the talk of love, how could he just decide to give me up like that? Because he wasn’t saying he didn’t love me, only that he couldn’t have me? Was that supposed to make it bearable and acceptable? Was that supposed to erase the terrible need I had to be beside him, to be held in his arms, to share his limitless strength, to be deeply loved even as I loved in return? Most of the women in Vediaster were the independent sort, and although I had envied their freedom at first, I had finally come to know that “freedom” wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted—and desperately needed—the deep involvement I’d been a part of, a relationship that had rarely been calm and comforting, but had been starting to get that way. It’s rather melodramatic to say you can’t live without someone, but what that really means is that you haven’t the will to live without them. I’d lived most of my life knowing I couldn’t depend on anyone around me even for a minute, had met a man who had supposedly changed all that, and now, because of the sense of honor that had made him so very dependable, I was groping again for a step that wasn’t there. He loved me, but honor and duty always came first.

I turned to my back again in the very comfortable furs, then almost smiled at another realization. The terrible problems I’d had, about having Tammad’s children and telling him of the one I’d given away, were suddenly no longer problems. They were completely solved and no longer had to be worried about, and that was definitely a benefit I hadn’t expected. I closed my eyes in order to get the rest I really did need, feeling very proud that I hadn’t broken down and cried like an infant. I continued to be proud until I fell asleep—and then my dreams were made of tears.