The Warrior Rearmed

11

My head hurt. It seemed as though my head had been hurting for quite some time, even before I awoke. I looked around vaguely at the small, closed-in room, sure I was still dreaming. I’d been in such pain and discomfort for so long that it didn’t seem possible it could be over and done with. I didn’t know where I was or what had happened to make my head hurt so, but as soon as I stirred on the pile of furs and groaned, a woman was at my side with a softly steaming bowl in her hands. She helped me sit up to sip at the bowl, let me swallow each mouthful of broth before offering more, then took the bowl away when I’d had all I could hold. By that time I was asleep again, and hadn’t even realized that the scene should have felt familiar from recent repetition. The next time I awoke my head still hurt, but the mists of confusion were already fading—and I had a visitor in place of the woman I remembered. Rellis sat among the few cushions the small room boasted, sipping from a goblet that smelled as though it held drishnak, his eyes already on me by the time I noticed him. His smile was warm and sincere as he sat up, and he raised his goblet to me.

“Allow me to be the first to congratulate you, wenda,” he said, a chuckle in his voice. “It has been long and long since a battle was fought under the aegis of the Sword, and you are the victor of the first battle since then. I saluted a Warrior of the Sword.”

“What happened?” I asked, putting one hand to my aching head, still somewhat confused, and then I realized I’d spoken in Centran. “I cannot remember what occurred to make my head ache so,” I amended, erasing his frown. “I feel as though much pain is no more than a short way behind me.”

“Do not concern yourself with pain which is past,” he answered gently, losing the teasing tone his voice had carried. He rose to his feet and came to stand over me, and his eyes were filled with compassion. “You now lie in an inner room of my house, where you will be somewhat protected from the present storm which rages without. Does it give you discomfort?”

I paused to think about that, realized my shield was closed so tight that nothing came through, then quickly decided against trying to open it. I didn’t feel up to coping with anything beyond just lying there in the furs on my back, and there seemed to be no reason to do anything else. I shook my head in answer to Rellis’ question, then looked up at him.

“Was there—another storm?” I asked, able to reach just the wispy beginnings of the memory. “I seem to recall another storm—in another place.”

“The resting place of the Sword,” he nodded, sipping at his drishnak. “There was the storm, and Dallan and Tammad—and the intruder. Are you able to recall the intruder?”

“He hurt them!” I gasped, suddenly breaking through to the swirl of insane confusion of that time, beginning to sit up in shock. “I have to help them!”

“Rest easy, wenda, rest easy,” he soothed, crouching down and immediately putting a hand to my shoulder to gently push me back down. “I cannot know the words you speak, for you speak in your own tongue. Do you wish to be left to rest a while longer?”

“No,” I said with a headshake, switching back to Rimilian, the throb in my head growing worse. “What became of the one you call intruder? Was he able to cause more harm after I—” I choked on the words, but couldn’t get them out. After all my boasting and great feelings of superiority, I’d still failed.

“Wenda, no man is able to cause harm when he is no longer living,” Rellis said, softly and gently as though he spoke to an hysterical child. “Surely you know that before the storm took you you were able to slay him?”

“Slay him?” I said, feeling like an echo as I looked up into Rellis’ face. “I know nothing of what occurred after the storm took me. Before then, he remained alive. What of Tammad and Dallan?”

“My son and the denday of the Circle of Might now rest from their ordeal,” he answered, putting aside his goblet of drishnak to pick up a bowl from the small table standing nearby. “This broth continues to retain some warmth, therefore shall I assist you in drinking in the while I speak of what occurred.”

He raised my shoulders from the bed of furs, held the bowl to my lips, and smiled down at me while I swallowed at the broth. I really did need it, and the warmth of it relaxed a tension in me that I hadn’t been aware of having. Rellis paused only long enough to make sure I was getting what I needed of the broth, then he began speaking again.

“By tradition,” he said, “those who seek the resting place of the Sword of Gerleth do so alone, or in the company of one or two others. Their experiences are the concern of none save themselves, therefore are they accorded the privacy which is their due. Had Dallan and Tammad undertaken the journey in no company other than their own, such privacy would have been theirs as well; as an unusual wenda accompanied them, complete privacy for them was not meant to be.

“When half the day was done, I led a number of my warriors slowly down into the mountain after your group taking care that we did not go so swiftly that we would overtake you. I had the thought that you might take yourself from their company, you see, using your powers to remain hidden from pursuit, later emerging and attempting to retrace your steps to my house. It was clear that your journey to the resting place of the Sword was necessary, and I wished to see you complete it.”

“That mist brings dreams,” I said, finding no word in the Rimilian language for hallucinogens. “It forces one to consider one’s life from a new focus.”

“Exactly,” Rellis nodded, taking back the emptied bowl and letting me lie flat again. “It was necessary that you all experience your doings along with the true reasons for having done them in the manner you had, and this was allowed you. It was not known that an intruder had entered the place of the Sword through the lower caverns in the mountain, nor that he was mad. A man is able to dream no more than once in the mists, and the intruder had surely already dreamed before your arrival. In such a way was he able to enter the mists the while Dallan and Tammad dreamed, render them helpless, then bind you as well.”

“As he had already dreamed, why did he act so?” I wondered aloud, suppressing a shiver at the memory of the monster. “Surely he was shown the true meaning of his actions?”

“Of my own knowledge, this I cannot say.” Rellis shrugged, settling himself cross-legged on the carpeting next to my bed furs. “It is possible, however, that his madness had blinded him to the truth, so much so that he saw naught save approval of that which he did. An honest, sincere man will at times experience doubt concerning the actions circumstances force upon him; one touched by madness will never experience such doubt.

“Be that as it may, we arrived in the corridor leading to the chamber of the Sword, only to hear screams coming from the chamber. A woman’s scream followed by that of a man, his by far the more tormented. We hurried to see what occurred, and beheld the sight you were so much a part of. Dallan hung nearly lifeless by the wrists, Tammad struggled uselessly to free himself, the wenda Terril lay bound senseless upon a boulder, and a strange, outlandish man lay twisted yet unmoving upon the rock of the chamber floor. We knew not what had caused such strangeness, yet were we unable to rush forward in a body to halt it. The mists of dreaming stood between us, and although I, myself, had visited the resting place of the Sword in my youth, no more than two of my warriors had done the same. We three left the others to await us and hurried forward, first freeing Tammad and then turning our attention to Dallan. It was necessary that Dallan be carried back through the mists, which was done by the two l’lendaa who accompanied me. When I turned to offer assistance of the same sort to the denday Tammad, I found that he was no longer where we had left him.

“Looking about showed me that he had forced himself to his feet despite the pain he surely felt from the touch of the whip, had taken himself over to the body of the intruder, and then, after a brief pause, had made his way to your side. His blood clearly marked the trail of his movements, and I followed to look down upon the body of the intruder, seeing no wounds and no sign of blood save that left by Tammad. The face, however, was so twisted by terror that it disturbed me, yet the questions I would have asked were interrupted.

“ ‘He no longer lives,’ Tammad informed me, bending over your form. ‘The woman, however, retains some spark of life, therefore do I ask your assistance. I cannot undo the knots of the leather upon her.’

“ ‘My assistance is yours without asking,’ I replied, moving quickly to stand beside him while drawing my dagger. ‘What has occurred here, and who is that stranger? Rarely does one see a man with hair so dark. From whence does he come?’

“ ‘I know not,’ the denday answered, watching as I carefully cut away the leather which bound you. ‘The man was mad, and thought this wenda one of his people despite her denial of it. He would have slain us all had she not been able to take his life, and surely did I believe that her life was gone as well. The thunderstorm was able to better her at last, yet she, in some manner, saw to him with the end of her strength. I thought to find myself enraged that I was unable to take his life with my own hands, but instead find no more than joyous thanks that she was spared. We must take her at once to a place deeper within the mountain, where the storm will be unable to touch her further.’

“‘You cannot carry her,’ I said, seeing that he was scarcely able to support himself. ‘I will take her, and you must allow yourself to be assisted by my l’lendaa. In such a manner will we find ourselves able to bring her to safety and peace with adequate speed. Do you agree?’

“His agreement was filled with reluctance, yet was it given for your sake, wenda. We left the chamber of the Sword and returned you all here, and the journey was not pleasant. You cried out often as though in the grip of a fever, and each time you did so, Dallan and Tammad attempted to go to your side. It was necessary at the last to bring you ahead more quickly, so that your companions would no longer be disturbed. They sleep now due to a healing potion within them, and I was freed to await your awakening. Is there aught you require to increase your comfort. O Warrior of the Sword?”

Rellis was smiling again, but there didn’t seem to be ridicule in his amusement, only gentle teasing. I shook my head to show there was nothing I wanted, and his hand reached out to smooth my hair.

“Then I will leave you to rest and restore yourself,” he said, rising again to his feet. “After you have slept a meal will be brought you, one more substantial than the medicated broth you have so far had. Should there be anything you require, you need only send word of it to me. ”

He smiled again as he reclaimed his goblet of drishnak, then he turned and left the tiny room. Although my head was still hurting I felt considerably better, knowing that I hadn’t completely failed after all. I’d never really know what had killed the monster, but I suspected that it had been my doing only in that I hadn’t broken the connection between us before the shadow curtain had collapsed. The terrible blast had driven from my mind straight to his, unfiltered in any way that would have cushioned the shock for him. I may have been more sensitive to that sort of thing than a non-empath, but I also had more defensive reflexes; my defenses were able to cushion the blast, while there were none in his mind to do the same. I had survived the blast that had killed him, but I wasn’t feeling well enough to know how good a thing that was. The medicated broth was making me sleepy again, so I gave into it without a fuss.

I wasn’t awake long the next time before a woman came in carrying a tray. She smiled when she saw I was awake, then began helping me to eat what she had brought. She was dressed in white imad and caldin, what seemed to be a servant uniform in that place, and was considerably more pleasant than the women who had bathed me. She propped me up with cushions so that I would be more comfortable, and once I had finished eating left the cushions as they were simply at my request. There was no medication in the food I ate, so after she had left with the tray, I was able to spend some time thinking.

My head still throbbed faintly to my pulse, but aside from that and the tail-end of weariness, I seemed to be all right. Under normal circumstances I would have expected to be deluged with trembling memories of what the monster had done to me, but aside from a lingering urge to hide myself in shame, my mind seemed more concerned with the dream I had experienced. Pain and humiliation were old companions for me on that world; brutal nose-rubbing in embarrassing truth wasn’t.

I looked down at my hands lying on the cover fur on me, seeing the bruises my wrists retained from the leather I’d fought against, feeling very small and very petty. In the dream I’d seen myself as blatantly overbearing, and while I knew the dream had exaggerated the situation to prove the point, it wasn’t all that far from the mark. I’d walked around convinced that I was better than everyone around me, while the truth was I was merely different. Sure I could do a lot of things other people couldn’t, but they could do things I couldn’t; the main difference between us was that I kept beating everyone over the head with my abilities, while no one did the same to me unless I forced them to it. There wasn’t a woman on the planet—not to mention most of the men—who couldn’t, for example, cook better than I, but they hadn’t spent their time parading themselves in front of me, telling me how superior they were. I’d waved my one unearned ability around like a flag, crowing while I strutted, insisting on special privileges because I was so special. It was a stupid, childish attitude to adopt, but I hadn’t been able to see it until I saw it from the outside. Whatever drug that mist contained, it certainly had the ability to drive straight to the heart of a matter.

I stirred uncomfortably in the furs then turned onto my right side, upset by another point the dream had made. When my rescuer had died fighting to save me from the fruits off my own arrogance, I’d experienced the most complete sense of remorse that it’s possible to feel. When we argue with someone who is extremely close to us, we usually assume that the person will be available later on to forgive, or condemn, or talk to, or in some other manner interact with. If that person becomes unavailable, especially through death, whatever was said or thought or felt becomes forever irretrievable and unchangeable. It’s no longer possible either to ask forgiveness or grant it, either to profess love or hear it professed. The moment and person are gone, never to return; whatever regret you feel is no more than wasted effort. There had been a lot of wasted effort during my time on Rimilia, but it was no longer clear whose effort had been wasted.

I sighed as I remembered all those conversations I’d had with people, they trying to tell me how wrong I was, I maintaining an air of injured dignity no matter what they said. Was it possible that I was wrong, that I’d spent more time complaining than trying to understand the reasons for what was being done around and to me? I could remember feeling in the dream that I hadn’t even tried to see and understand his way of looking at things; even if the same could be said about him, it didn’t make me any less guilty. And I didn’t have to spend any time wondering who he was; there was only one he whose doings and opinions held any true meaning for me.

I lost myself to deep thought for a time, letting my mind consider and argue as it wanted to, finally coming back to my surroundings with a sigh. The room was fine for uninterrupted thinking, but the better I felt, the more bored I was becoming. When Rellis had been here he’d said it was storming again, but maybe the storm had moved on since then. I was curious as to what was going on beyond that closed door, and stretching my mind was easier than hunting for clothes and going to see. All I had to do was thin the shield and peek out—but for some reason the shield didn’t want to thin. I sat up in the bed furs with a frown and tried again, this time making the action more deliberate than casual, but it still didn’t work. The shield whose presence I was always aware of seemed to have been replaced by a blank wall, one which was without cracks and totally immovable. My mind clawed at it and scurried around and clawed some more—but there was no way out, no tiny opening through which I could slip. I sank bank against the cushions in vast confusion, not understanding why my shield had turned so impervious—then felt the ice-fingers of shock. Any shield, no matter how how thick and impervious, would still be subject to removal by me, would still be subject to my will. If I couldn’t dissolve it, even with effort, then it wasn’t a shield, it was a literal blank wall. I hadn’t been killed by the thunderstorm exploding in my mind, I had only been crippled—and was now no different from anyone else. No powers, no special abilities, not even a talent for cooking. Distantly I thought I should be reacting in some way—hysterics, insane delight, thoughts of suicide, waves of relief—but all I felt was numb. I lay propped up on the pile of cushions in the bed furs, aware of my bare body being held by the furs, aware of the crackle of candle flames in the small, windowless room, aware of the deep silence all around, both inside and out, breathing evenly but not thinking at all.

The sound at my door took a couple of minutes to penetrate my awareness, and when I finally looked up Dallan and the barbarian were already inside, Tammad closing the door behind both of them. Neither one would have taken any prizes in a perfect—physical—health contest, but Dallan was more clearly marked by the trail of the lash. They both seemed to have already begun healing, but they couldn’t have been free of pain yet. I stirred in the bed furs, vaguely wondering why they had come, somehow unsurprised to see that they both wore their swords. They may have been half beaten to death, but if they were going to move around, they’d do it armed.

“Wenda, how do you fare?” Dallan asked, his eyes concerned as he moved forward ahead of Tammad. “My father tells us that you seem recovered now, yet could not at first recall what had befallen us. Are you disturbed in any manner? Do you feel pain’?”

“I feel no more than a faint headache,” I answered, looking down and away from them. “You need not have taken the bother to come here.”

“It was no bother, memabra,” Dallan said, his voice warm and reassuring. “May we seat ourselves among your cushions? There are things which must be spoken of among us.”

I heard them moving across the carpeting to the nest of cushions without waiting for an answer from me, showing the question had been pure formality. They didn’t need my approval to do anything, and they never would. In a world of cataclysmic changes, that would never change.

“Terril, as you wear my bands, I must be the one to speak first to you,” Dallan said when he and Tammad were settled on the carpet. “I have learned a thing from the dreams sent me in the resting place of the Sword, and painful though it is, I must tell you of it.”

I looked over at him where he sat just a few feet away, seeing both discomfort and determination in his light eyes. He appeared to be holding himself straight with difficulty, and fleetingly I wished I could ease his pain. He was determined to say what he had to say no matter how much he hurt, and if I couldn’t help him, the least I could do was let him get it said without interruption.

“The dream sent me was scarcely one of pleasure,” he continued, looking away briefly before forcing himself back into eye contact with me. “In it I was a man of great power and wealth, a l’lenda without equal, surrounded by lovely wendaa without number. These wendaa were mine for the taking, and yet though I used them as I willed, I felt myself deeply drawn to none of them. Much time passed in this way, giving me nothing for the nothing I, myself, gave, and then I came upon another wenda, one who was not mine. This wenda was lovely and desirable, wilful and the possessor of a great power, yet above all that she was filled with a vast unhappiness. I found myself touched by her unhappiness and able to soothe it to some degree, and from this I derived even greater pleasure than her body brought me. The concern I felt for her was deep, as deep as the concern I would have felt for the sister I had never had, yet I saw this concern as love and desire for possession, refusing to admit even to myself even what I felt was scarcely to be considered as love. When one who truly loved her came seeking her, I sneeringly refused her to him, feeling much the man by doing so. I perceived it as keeping her from greater unhappiness, you see, and not as bringing greater satisfaction to myself. I concealed the truth from all by noble speeches, and also saw myself as noble. Never had I known before how low it is possible for a man to take himself with self-delusion.”

“You cannot blame yourself for pitying me,” I interrupted, almost feeling the air vibrate with the hurt inside him. “Finding pleasure in helping others gripped by unhappiness is no evil thing. It shows you as warm-hearted, Dallan, not callous and cold. It was not your intention to give me greater unhappiness by banding me, nor have I seen the doing in such a light. You need not berate yourself for having shown compassion.”

“It was not compassion which I thought to show,” he answered, still sounding upset. “In the dream I knew nothing of what I did till I found the wenda cold and unmoving, having wasted away from lack of the love she so cruelly had been kept from. It was impossible for me to make reparations for what I had done, and though I now know it for a dream, I feel the ache even to this moment. You must know that I mean to unhand you, memabra; in also knowing my reasons, you must strive to feel nothing of ahresta. ”

“Such a doing scarcely comes as a shock,” I sighed, leaning back against my cushions and closing my eyes. “You have my thanks for first speaking to me of your intentions.”

“Your unbanding is not my sole intention,” he said, for some reason sounding stronger. “Should I do such a thing and then merely turn my back upon you, the gesture would surely be as noble as my previous actions. It has long since come to me that much of your unhappiness stems from a lack of understanding between you and your chosen, therefore shall I stand as true brother to you and speak of your hurt to him for you. Should you find it possible to speak for yourself, do not hesitate to do so; I shall remain to assist you solely where you lack the strength.”

“I lack the strength for another confrontation,” I said, feeling a twinge over the decision I hadn’t known I’d made. “I have no chosen nor shall I ever have one, therefore would you be wise to return to your rest. You do no more here than merely waste your strength. ”

“Have you taken to speaking lies, wenda?” he demanded with a snort, his voice now sounding annoyed. “Though in the grip of great pain, my observations of the doings in the chamber of the Sword came with unexpected clarity. Well do I recall that you offered yourself in place of Tammad and myself, and well do I recall the pain you were given for having made the offer. Also do I recall the point at which you challenged and engaged the intruder, which was neither when you were given pain, nor when I was done so. It was the safety and well-being of your chosen which drove you, a truth you cannot deny.”

In my memory I was suddenly back in that cave, not doing battle with that monster but being hurt by him. My mind had been looking for a way to divert my attention from what Dallan was saying, but the way it found made me sick to my stomach and ashamed. All the things I hadn’t felt earlier came rolling over me, so strongly that I threw myself under the covering fur with a sob, pulled it over my head, then held my hands over my ears. Even the Hamarda, who had held me and used me as a slave, had been seeking normal pleasure; it was only a monster who would use his body to give pain, a twisted monster incapable of feeling normal pleasure. He had used me only to hurt me, and what was infinitely worse, he had done it in front of him. There were no tears to soothe a feeling like that, nothing but shame unending.

Less than a minute passed in the privacy of the hiding place I had made for myself, and then the fur was pulled away again, letting in the light. The darkness behind my closed eyelids wasn’t enough, but I couldn’t take the cover back, and my hands were pulled away from my ears. After that there was a broad chest to be held against, but the gesture brought more agony than comfort.

“Hama, do not be tormented by that which you have done,” the barbarian said, showing that it was he who held me. “There are none about who would have condemned you had you this time let me die, I least of all. Do not fear that you will regret your goodness.”

“What is it that you speak of to my sister, denday Tammad?” Dallan asked gently, as though he purposely stood in the background of the conversation. “It strikes me as odd that you seem to believe her actions might have been other than that which they were. For what reason should she have withheld her assistance?”

“For what reason should she have given it?” the barbarian countered, his voice so even that the bitterness barely showed. “Time and again I beat her for having used her powers on those about her; would it not have been fitting had she obeyed me at last and allowed my life to be forfeit?”

“Perhaps,” Dallan murmured. “Are you filled with regret for having done her so?”

“No,” Tammad growled, Unconsciously tightening his hold on me. “I regret none of it—save the one time I allowed anger to take me. It was for her own sake that I punished her, and for the love I feel for her, yet I succeeded in teaching her no more than fear. Of what worth is a man, who is able to teach no other thing than fear?”

“I see that you, too, have dreamed,” Dallan said, and somehow I had the impression he was amused. “In what manner do you see that you have taught her no other thing than fear?”

“When first I claimed her she was a burning flame,” the barbarian whispered, barely loud enough to hear. “Her arrogance was full, and yet the life within her was the same, bright and sharp and requiring all of a man’s efforts to meet her. You saw, in the mountain, what she has now become, what I have made of her. She trembled and recoiled in fear, filled with terror at my presence; but a moment ago she hid from the sight of me, no doubt at the urging of a similar terror. Even now her eyes remain tightly closed, and she holds her body as far from mine as possible. Sooner would I have lost my life than to have done such a thing to the woman of my heart.”

His words ended in an ugly croak, the sort of sound that comes from swallowing down tears. I still felt too ashamed to look at him, but the importance of my feelings dwindled when I realized how painful his were. What he believed was a lie, and I couldn’t walk away with a lie left between us.

“That isn’t true,” I whispered, touching him gingerly for fear of hurting the open whip cuts that covered him. “It isn’t you I fear, just your anger. And only when I’m guilty; only when I’m guilty. ”

Which is most of the time, I added bitterly to myself. I do as I please and expect to get away with it, and when I don’t I find someone else to blame for what happens to me. Taking the easy way out is a life style for some people; I had never thought I’d be one of the group.

“What does she say, Tammad?” Dallan asked, and when the barbarian had translated with confusion and puzzlement in his voice, the drin of Gerleth chuckled. “The truth is of great importance to one such as she, my friend, and I somehow believe we have not heard the entireness of it. As you fear no more than the denday’s anger, my sister, and then only when guilt is yours, for what reason did you fear him in the mountain?”

“For the reason of guilt,” I answered, relieved to finally get it said—no matter what they did to me. “His accusation was true, for I did indeed force you from me, despite your belief to the contrary. It was—necessary to me that I do so, no matter that you would find my reasoning foolish. To me it was more necessary than foolish.”

“I see,” Dallan said, his words failing in the thick silence coming from the barbarian. “And the reason for your having hidden yourself but a moment ago? Was that equally as foolish?”

I found myself adding my own oar to the silence, more than reluctant to discuss the way I felt. Is it possible for any male, especially a Rimilian male, to understand about being hurt like that? Do they ever feel anything more than outrage over their territory having been invaded, or pure confusion and puzzlement? Can they know what it’s like, even if it should happen to them?

“Perhaps it may be considered equally as foolish,” I said at last, still looking at neither of them. “It has, at any rate, nothing whatsoever to do with fear. Cowardice, perhaps, yet not fear.”

“I had not realized you understood the difference between cowardice and fear,” Dallan said, his tone now approving. “There are those who believe the two the same, yet this has no bearing on our true discussion. I feel certain I know the reasons behind this foolishness you speak of, which surely links two separate actions. Was it not the same thought which caused you to force me from you, and also to hide yourself at mention of the intruder’? Am I mistaken in believing so?”

I couldn’t quite bring myself to answer him as I slowly pushed out of the barbarian’s arms to sit alone. I didn’t know what point Dallan was trying to make, and I couldn’t check his attitudes any longer to find out; hell, I couldn’t even look him in the face. All I felt was very tired, and I wished he would finish up whatever he was doing and let me go back to resting.

“What is this belief you speak of?” the barbarian asked, his voice at least neutral if not yet returned to its usual calm. “In what way might these things be linked?”

“The matter should be as clear to you as I find it,” Dallan said to the barbarian, but there was no accusation in his tone, only faint surprise. “My sister has spoken to me of the barbaric beliefs of her former people, and the torment she has felt when faced with our civilized ways. Surely, when these things were spoken of to you as well, you saw—that—”

Dallan’s speech came limping to a halt, and I could just imagine the expressions surrounding me. They’d exchange information, get a good laugh out of my “backward” point of view, then hopefully go on their way and leave me alone. Without opening my eyes I groped for the covering fur I’d lost a short time earlier, found it and pulled it to me, then just sat there with two fistfuls of covering at my throat.

“I have been told of no torment faced by this woman,” the barbarian said, and he did sound accusing. “Little has been told me concerning her beliefs, save for her belief and that of her people that she is to be allowed her will in all things. This cannot be the belief you refer to.”

“Nor is it,” Dallan agreed with a heavy sigh. “You are unaware, then, of her feeling that to be used by any man save he to whom she belongs is a great shame, shaming her also in the eyes of her chosen. Had I not seen her wracked by this torment with my own eyes, I would scarcely have credited it.”

Again there was silence, undoubtedly cram-packed with all sorts of overtones and undertones, and then a gentle hand came to my shoulder.

“Terril, is this true?” the barbarian asked very softly. “For what reason was I not told of this sooner?”

“What need was there to speak of it?” I shrugged, studying the dark gray and red behind my closed eyelids. “Each time I was given as host-gift, I was informed that all choices in the matter belonged to another. To speak of a thing which gives shame is possible only when there is one who is willing to listen with understanding.”

“And such a one was not I,” he said, so flatly that I felt the weight of it. “Even seetarr have proven themselves filled with greater understanding than this one who calls himself l’lenda. I have not done as badly as at first I thought; I have done worse.”

“Calmly, my friend, calmly,” Dallan said as Tammad’s hand left my shoulder. “You take the blame for all that has gone before on your own head, and yet the woman is not blameless. How great must be her pride, to keep her from speaking of so pressing a matter! Had she truly wished to speak with you, would you have refused to listen?”

“No,” came the answer along with a very deep breath. “Had she truly attempted to speak with me, I would not have turned away from her.”

“And you, wenda,” Dallan said, switching victims. “How often have you spoken to this man of that which disturbed you? Have you ever spoken of how you truly felt?”

“Sure,” I muttered, lowering my head as far as it would go. “Why the hell do you think I did all those terrible things to all those poor people? For the fun of it?”

“A communication I allowed anger to keep me from deciphering,” the barbarian said before Dallan could ask for a translation. “And yet, how else was I to react, save with anger? Do you think me possessed of a power similar to yours, woman?”

“You always understand how everyone else feels,” I whispered, trying not to let the dampness seep out of my eyes. “Why is it so impossible for you to do the same with me? Even a seetar sometimes gets a pat of appreciation around the reins of ownership. ”

“There is little to understanding the needs of others, hama,” he said very gently, his hand coming to stroke my hair. “Where a man sees love, his vision is often blurred, and if not blurred, then distorted. For a man to see his love clearly, she must stand very still for a time; this you have never done for me.”

I turned my head and opened my eyes to look at him through a different kind of blurring, seeing the strength in his broad face and light eyes. I was now willing to believe I hadn’t stood still long enough to really understand his thinking, but the revelation had come too late. He was trying to waken something that had died without his knowing it.

“Standing still during beatings isn’t one of my many abilities,” I said, managing to come up with a small shrug. “I don’t recall much else between us lately.”

“You come so close, then quickly back away,” he said, his light eyes showing again the calm that was so much a part of him. “Is it fear or cowardice which moves you so, hama? Do you keep your inner self so far from me by design, or are you merely unable to share with others that which you so often have from them? It is my fondest desire to listen with understanding to any words you speak; for what reason do you refuse to speak them?”

I stared at him for a minute, almost tempted beyond bearing, but even considering the idea was useless. It was both cowardice and fear that had kept me from speaking to him before that; from that point on, there would be nothing to talk about.

“Somehow, I think you’ll be too busy from now on to listen to anything coming from me,” I said, unable to look away from him. “You see, the reason that that intruder died was because he was linked directly to my mind when the thunderstorm broke through the barrier I had raised against it. I didn’t die—or at least not all of me. Only the part you so quaintly call my ‘power.’ I no longer have that power—and never will again.”

The shock in Tammad’s eyes was too visible to be missed, not even by Dallan, who had been sitting back out of the way of the conversation he hadn’t understood. He stirred where he had remained among the cushions, then leaned forward.

“Tammad, what has happened?” he demanded, his voice sharper than it had been in some minutes. “What has she said to you?”

“She has informed me that her power is no more,” the barbarian answered, his tone reaching for calm—and not making it. “The strength of that storm has taken it from her as it took the life of the intruder. Hama, were you injured in any other manner? How strong is the pain you feel? I will send for Lenham immediately so that he may search for damage you may not be aware of.”

He began getting to his feet from where he’d been sitting on the bed furs near me, determination tightening his jaw, and I didn’t understand what he was doing. Was he hurrying away in supposed concern, only so that he could be away, to begin work again on more important matters? Why hadn’t he simply walked out?

“You can send for Len if you like, but there’s nothing he can do,” I said, watching the barbarian’s distraction. “There’s nothing anyone can do. I’ve been burned out by overload, and the circuit can’t be replaced.”

“I will know if there is any other damage,” he maintained stubbornly, moving those outrageous blue eyes to me. “And you will speak only in this tongue, the Rimilian tongue, so that the drin Dallan may understand you. Speaking to me in your own tongue with another present is a great rudeness.”

I glanced at Dallan, seeing how patiently he sat in the face of what really was rudeness, but felt too confused to apologize.

“I will speak in any tongue you wish,” I said to the barbarian in Rimilian, letting my hand go to my still-aching head. “I will also listen in any tongue you wish; I ask only that you explain what you are about. Of what concern can any other damage possibly be? I am now a cripple, even more useless than before, no longer fit to be a pawn in the machinations of men. I find the state filled with an unexpected peace and lack of regret, yet not all will find it so. For what reason do you continue to flurry about me?”

“Perhaps the reason is our concern for you,” Dallan said as Tammad frowned. “Have you forgotten that your current state—far from useless—has come about due to your efforts on our behalf? Are you able to believe we would now abandon you?”

“Ah, you feel gratitude.” I nodded, then put my head back and closed my eyes. “I had failed to consider the presence of gratitude. My questions have now been answered.”

I was telling myself that disappointment was a stupid thing to feel under the circumstances, when I heard a sound next to me on the bed furs, as though someone had sat down. It didn’t mean much until a hand touched my face, and I opened my eyes to see Tammad less than a foot away.

“Should you believe that it is gratitude which fills me, wenda, you are greatly mistaken,” he said, his eyes hard and his voice tight with an unexplained anger. “A man may feel gratitude for assistance given him, yet he is able to feel no other thing than anger when his wenda places herself in danger and comes to harm by cause of that assistance. Once were you told that sooner would I see this l’lenda harmed than you, yet the lesson taught at the time was clearly not remembered. When your strength and health have been regained, I shall teach it again.”

“But—but—I do not understand!” I stumbled, uncontrollably lowering myself farther under the cover fur. “You cannot have further interest in me, for I am no longer of use to you! With the absence of my power, I will be of interest to no one!”

I know I expected an increase in his anger, but suddenly his beautiful blue eyes were filled with sadness.

“Ah, wenda! How great must have been the pain you were given,” he said with a sigh, wrapping one of his great hands around my fist on the cover fur. “To be taught that your only value lay in the power you possessed, to be taught distrust of those about you—I, too, am guilty in part of such a doing, yet are your former people more guilty by far. It will give me great pleasure to drive them to their knees for having done such a thing to my woman.”

“Your woman?” I echoed, my head swirling with confusion as well as throbbing. “You cannot mean to keep me as your woman?”

“I mean exactly that,” he said, staring at me steadily. “Despite your penchant for disobedience, despite the sharpness of your tongue and your untalented ways about a cooking fire, despite your vast and unconcealed reluctance—you are mine and shall remain mine forever.”

“Reluctance,” I whispered, reaching out with my free left hand to touch him with the very tips of my fingers. “My reluctance for breathing is greater. I cannot understand your desire for a cripple—and have not the courage required to believe in it.”

“You need not believe in it.” He shrugged, and the ghost of a grin was on his face. “I shall no longer spend breath attempting to persuade you; I shall merely continue to keep you beside me, and shall ask of belief only at the end of our lives. Should you fail to have belief in me then, I shall beat you.”

I wanted to laugh at what he’d said, but instead I cried like a weepy infant. Dallan laughed, and so did Tammad, but all I could do was cry. Tammad moved closer and put his arm around me, and it was all I could do not to hurt him in a vise-grip. I wanted to crush him to me with all my strength, and for the first time understood about those episodes where he’d hurt me without meaning to. The urge was just short of compulsion level, a purely emotional reaction to the non-thinking of a mind filled with confusion. His unexpected decision hadn’t solved all of my problems, but without the worry of the worst one, the others seemed more likely to be taken care of at another time. I was too tired to cry for very long-even happy-crying is draining—and Tammad understood immediately how I felt.

“You are weary and now must take your rest again,” he said, gently disengaging my arm from around him. “You must sleep and eat and regain your strength, and then we will talk again. The drin Dallan, I believe, also requires further rest, and we keep him from it.”

“Indeed,” Dallan agreed, beginning to force himself to his feet among the cushions. “I have indeed been too long from my furs, and the healer will not be pleased. This healer has known me from the time of my boyhood, and refuses to accept my being l’lenda when I am in her care. Perhaps she is correct.”

“I will return when you have taken your rest,” Tammad said, touching my face a final time before rising from the bed furs. Neither he nor Dallan were moving as well as they usually did, which said they needed rest at least as much as I. I kept silent as they took themselves from the room, letting them go even when there was so much left to say, then closed my eyes with a deep sigh. I intended doing a lot of thinking about what has just happened, but instead fell asleep.

When I awoke there was another tray waiting for me in the care of the white-dressed woman, and with her help I ate most of what was on it. My head was still hurting faintly—something I was almost getting used to—and I was gently but firmly refused when I spoke about getting up. Every l’lenda on the planet seemed to have left orders about how well I was to be taken care of, and the woman seemed to know without asking that my head still hurt. I tried telling her how bored I was, and got laughed at for pretending to be a l’lenda. L’lendaa were the ones who complained about being kept idle in the furs when there were so many other things to be done; wendaa were wiser, and were well able to appreciate the worth of uninterrupted rest. I can’t say I agreed with the viewpoint, but arguing wouldn’t have gotten me very far. The woman wasn’t only convinced she was right; she was also determined to do things her way whether she was right or wrong. I watched her take the tray and leave, then spent a couple of minutes wondering what I was supposed to do to keep from going crazy.

The question was answered for me in a very direct way; as if on cue the door opened again, and Tammad came in. He looked slightly less well used than he had earlier, and he smiled as he came toward me.

“Your rest appears to have taken the weariness from you, hama,” he said. “I, too, have rested, after having sent for Lenham. My worry will find no similar rest till he has pronounced you unhurt.”

“I have nothing more than a headache,” I said, returning his smile as I watched him sit down on the bed furs near me. “Compared to the shape I’m usually in on this world, that’s tantamount to being in the best of health.”

“You seek to ease my worry,” he said, his eyes bright with amusement as he reached a hand out to stroke my hair. “Perhaps I should reply that now that my worry is eased, I may think about no more than when I may beat you.”

“I think I feel a relapse coming on,” I said, trying to groan hollowly but laughing instead. “I must have looked very foolish back then, trying to make you believe I didn’t care if you beat me. I’m too much of a coward not to care.”

“It is scarcely cowardice to fear punishment at the hands of one who is larger and stronger than yourself,” he said, settling himself into a one-elbow leaning position toward the foot of the bed. “Only one who is insane—or bereft of all hope—will do such a thing. Do you truly feel no sadness at the loss of your powers?”

“I can’t say I don’t feel—empty,” I admitted, wishing he hadn’t brought up the subject, but determined not to avoid it. “I’ve been an empath all my life, and it’s on a par with an untalented person losing his or her eyesight. But I am glad I can’t be a pawn any longer, that there won’t be people chasing after me for what I can do any more. What I’d like to know is how you really feel about it. Even if you keep me a thousand years, you’ll never have an empath in your furs again.”

“Were it possible to feel joy at another’s grievous loss, hama, joy is the sole thing I would feel,” he said, putting his hand on my leg through the cover fur. “Though I found great pleasure through the presence of a woman with the power in my furs, I shall find greater pleasure in her presence without the power. I am no more than l’lenda, ill-equipped for coping with your power. I may face all manner of danger with a sword, yet am I unable to face one small wenda with the power with equal unconcern. Such a wenda most often seemed beyond me; though I grieve for your loss, I joy in knowing you are no longer beyond me. ”

“I was never beyond you,” I answered softly, leaning forward to touch his hand. “I was just so lost in the hurt of uncertainty and not being wanted for myself that you couldn’t find me. I didn’t let anyone find me, and then I blamed them for wanting the only party they could find. Why didn’t you ever perform the rite of five-banding?”

“Hama, it was not possible,” he said, appearing momentarily startled at the abrupt question. “For a man to perform the rite of five-banding, his wenda must be fully willing and eager to wear his bands. It is possible to force willingness upon a woman by using the needs of her body, yet this course of action was unacceptable to me. I had no wish to force a willingness which did not come of its own.”

“Somehow, I knew all along it was my fault,” I sighed, leaning back again against the cushions. “There are so many things I don’t know about this world, and your people, and you. How could I believe I knew all there was to know just because I read a report? I’m not only foolish, I’m stupid.”

“Merely ignorant,” he corrected with a chuckle, patting my leg. “Happily, the ignorant may be taught whereas the stupid may not. I have attempted to teach your ignorance, and shall continue to do so till it is no more. In time you will be as civilized and knowledgeable as my people and myself.”

“You’d best watch those insults, l’lenda,” I said, looking at him darkly. “You’re not over being hurt yet, which means I just might have a chance against you. Would you like to have it said that you were beaten by a wenda?”

“No, l’lenda-hama, I would not care to have it said that I was beaten by a wenda,” he laughed, true delight filling his eyes. “I offer my apologies for having given you insult, and shall take care that the same does not occur again.”

“Apology accepted,” I grinned, then began climbing out from under the cover fur toward him. “To tell the truth, I’m greatly relieved to have your apology. To beat you would mean to give you more pain—and I would rather die than give you pain. You are not my hamak, you are my sadendrak, the one who brings life to me in all things. Life would hold no meaning for me beside another; this you must believe above all things.”

“Sadendra, I do believe,” he said very softly, opening his arms so that I might crawl into them. “There are many things we must teach one another, to be sure that doubt will never touch our belief again. I would have you begin with your feelings concerning host-use, so that I might know at last the reason you dislike it so. Ever did I believe that you refused as a disobedience, intending me and my brothers insult. To learn that I was mistaken has given me pause.”

I lay carefully in his arms, trying not to touch his wounds, and forced myself to come out from the dark corner I was so used to hiding in. It was difficult explaining why I wanted to belong only to him, and he had just as much difficulty explaining why the more he loved me, the more he wanted to share me with his closest brothers. We both agreed to think about the other’s point of view before discussing the topic again, and then he held me very close despite his wounds, in memory of what the darkhaired intruder had done to me. The sort of rape I’d been subjected to wasn’t considered a sexual act by Rimilians, I learned. It was considered assault of the worst sort, and any woman who could kill a man who did such a thing was praised and regarded highly by all who heard of it. The way Tammad spoke, it was just as though he thought of me as having been cruelly and badly beaten, with no shame attached to the occurrence, nothing but sympathy and consolation coming from him. I remembered then that he and his people didn’t believe it possible for a woman to keep herself from being used, and some of the lingering hurt and shame did go away. Not all of it, and not all of the memory either, but enough of it to take the terrible edge away.

We talked for hours as I lay in his arms, and not once in all that time did he make a single sexual overture. I was sure he was hurting too much to change our association from verbal to physical, and the thought disturbed me enough so that I didn’t mention it. I didn’t want him trying something out of a sense of duty, and thereby hurting himself all the more. When my next meal was brought there was enough for two, and I insisted on feeding the barbarian the way I’d been fed earlier by the woman. He lay propped up on cushions, taking whatever I gave him, and it’s hard to say when I last felt the sort of pleasure I got from performing that silly little act. He kept his eyes on me the entire time, silent appreciation in his stare, making me glad I wore nothing that would interfere with what he wanted to see. When the meal was done we lay down together again, the emptied tray still standing where the woman in white had left it.

When the door opened a few minutes later, I thought it was the woman returning for the tray, not realizing my mistake until I heard a chuckling behind me. It was a male voice chuckling, which immediately started me diving for the cover fur, but Tammad and I were lying on it. I tugged futilely at the cover, not missing the fact that the barbarian wasn’t moving at all, and the chuckling turned into out and out laughter.

“Do you mean to hide yourself from me, wenda, the man who has banded you?” Dallan’s voice came, his amusement so obvious it set my teeth on edge. “You must sit as you are and allow me to look upon you, for it is my wish that you do so.”

“I will be pleased to accord you your wish, if you will also accord me mine,” I answered sweetly, turning about to look at him where he stood, about two feet from the bed furs. “Shall I tell you the pertinent points of my wish?”

“Do you retrain from insolence, wenda,” the barbarian commanded mildly, adding a tug on my hair. “A man has the right to obedience from her whom he has banded.”

“And yet he means to unband me, does he not?” I pounced, seeing that Dallan was still amused. “As I am not permanently banded by him, a partial insolence should be acceptable.”

“Yet only with a partial obedience,” Dallan put in, still grinning. “First the obedience, and only then the insolence. And perhaps it will be my decision not to unband you after all. You are, in final thought, a desirable wenda, one a man may easily come to love. It may well be my decision to retain you in my hands.”

“Should such an event come to pass, it will then be necessary for the drin and myself to again face one another,” the barbarian put in while I frowned at an all-too-serious Dallan. “As you are no longer able to interfere in the matter, we will this time find a satisfactory ending to the affair, one which will satisfy honor rather than the stubbornness of a sharp-tongued wenda. Once again the choice has become one for l’lendaa.”

I sat on the bed with what must have been a dumbfounded expression, looking from one unsmiling Rimilian face to the other. I’d forgotten all about the fight they’d almost had, forgotten all about the fact that I still technically belonged to Dallan. If they ever decided to fight again, there was nothing I could do about it, not even threaten to let myself die with the loser. I was not only absolutely helpless, I couldn’t even think of anything to say.

“I hear no more than a commendable silence, wenda,” Dallan said, and I couldn’t help but notice that he also looked stronger than he had earlier. “Are you no longer interested in being accorded your wish?”

I opened my mouth to answer him, meaning to say something flip about now being willing to pass on my turn at wishing, when I finally got the point they were making. It was my big mouth that had started the trouble, just as it usually did, and if I didn’t learn to think before speaking, the next time I might start something I would not be able to stop. It was one thing to joke with a man in the privacy of his furs or mine, quite another to embarrass him, even mildly, in front of others. Courtesy given is courtesy asked for, and I knew well enough what I’d been asking for.

“I ask your pardon, memabrak,” I said in a very small voice with my head down, addressing him properly as the man who had banded me. “I should not have spoken to you as I did, for the matter is truly one between l’lendaa, and I am not l’lenda. Please excuse my having intruded in so mannerless a way.”

“Excellent, wenda, truly excellent,” Dallan said, warm approval now in his voice. “To see one’s error is the necessary preliminary step to correcting that error. You may now kneel at the foot of your furs the while the denday Tammad and I converse. ”

I raised my head quickly to look at him, and his eyes said that he wasn’t simply having fun with me. I was being punished for the way I’d acted, and the worst part was that I was now sure I would have had to do nothing of the sort if I’d answered him at first with courtesy. I moved to the end of the bed furs and knelt there, filled with disgust, but the entire mass was aimed only at myself. I’d earned whatever I got, and had damned well better remember it for next time.

“You are truly lovely, memabra,” Dallan said, moving forward the two feet to stand directly in front of me. “You may retain your arms at your sides, yet do I wish to see your head held higher. You are, after all, considerably more than a slave.”

His hands came to my face, raising my chin high, and then he turned and walked to the cushions scattered on the carpeting, lowering himself with less than his usual grace despite the ease of his stride. He and Tammad began talking then, about the weather—which was clearing—about the intruder in the mountain—for whom they both continued to hold a blood-grudge—and about wendaa. It didn’t take them long to get around to discussing me and although I knew they were only talking to waste time, I still ended up blushing vividly. I’d probably never get used to having normally private topics and subjects discussed so frankly and baldly in front of me, and there was nothing else I could do other than blush. It went on so long I was sure I’d suffer a permanent skin color change, and then the subject was abruptly changed.

“Since our return, I find myself tiring much too easily,” Dallan said, stretching carefully among the cushions before rising to his feet. “As darkness has already fallen, I believe I shall seek my furs again and hope to fare better when I awake. Is it your intention to do the same, denday Tammad?”

“In truth, my intentions lie elsewhere, drin Dallan,” the barbarian answered from behind me, his voice sounding lazy. “There are furs other than my own which I wish to seek, should you be of a mind to see to a small matter before your departure.”

I found myself suddenly clamping my jaw shut, to make sure the wrong thing didn’t get said. Tammad was asking Dallan to unband me, and Dallan was staring at me without answering! It came to me then that that was why Tammad hadn’t touched me, apart from holding me in his arms. He had acknowledged the fact that I was banded as Dallan’s, and therefore wasn’t entitled to touch me without permission!

“It is such a small matter, denday Tammad,” Dallan drawled, still staring down at me. “Surely it would not inconvenience you to too great an extent if I should allow it to be seen to at another time. Surely you, and this wenda as well, would benefit from rest as much as I.”

“The decision is, of course, yours,” the barbarian answered, his tone as calm and lazy as it had been. For my part, of course, I was frantic, especially when Dallan turned away from me and headed for the door. I didn’t want to wear his bands one minute longer than necessary, and I was prepared to beg if I had to. That was probably what he was waiting for, to have me beg, but I didn’t care. I’d do anything I had to do to be Tammad’s again. For the second time I opened my mouth, this time ready with the prettiest please I could imagine—but again the words weren’t spoken. Something inside my head kept insisting, “Mind your own business! Mind your own business!”

“But it is my business!” I shouted silently in answer, “And more than my business! It’s my life!” The voice grew still at that, refusing to argue, but I already knew what the argument would have been. It wasn’t my business because the matter stood between Dallan and Tammad, and they didn’t consider it my business. If I was ever going to start playing by their rules, that would have to be the time. I closed my mouth again and continued to kneel where I’d been put, but my chin was no longer as high as it had been.

I know I was waiting to hear the door open and close, sure that it would, and was therefore caught off guard when Dallan was suddenly beside me again. I looked up in surprise to see the grin that he wore, not understanding it or the reason he wasn’t gone.

“A man seldom wishes to feel that he does a thing because another has demanded it,” he said to me, reaching a hand out to stroke my hair. “When a decision is his alone, he will, if left to his own devices, consider how his decision will affect others. To wheedle or attempt to coerce him merely takes his thoughts from those others, and instills resentment within him over the attempt to intrude upon a decision which is his to make. This applies equally to those decisions which are a woman’s to make, and should also be kept free of a man’s invasions. As you have clearly learned this lesson, you need not be left to agonize. I feel sure you will not take it amiss if I say it gives me great pleasure to now unband you.”

He leaned down to touch his lips to mine, and then his hands were at my wrist, removing the first of the bands. I can’t say I really understood everything he’d said, but one strange thought seemed to have formed out of it: it’s sometimes possible to win by losing. The concept made no sense to me, but once I had the time I’d have to think about it. Very little that Rimilians did made sense, and that odd concept might just be the key to dealing with them without constant pain. Courtesy was another key, and one that was easier to put into practice.

The last of the bands to be taken was the one around my throat, and once it was open I impulsively took Dallan’s face in my hands and kissed him gently. I didn’t know if doing such a thing was proper, but it was the only way I could think of to say thank you. He returned the kiss with his hand in my hair, chuckled softly when it was over, then gathered up his opened bands and left without another word. I suddenly became aware of how strange it felt to be totally unbanded, a thing I’d tried hard to achieve not too long ago, and the thought must have communicated itself to the man who sat behind me.

“You rub your wrist with a sense of freedom achieved,” Tammad observed, causing me to turn my head to look at him. “It seems you have as yet to embrace our custom of banding.”

“You’re right,” I admitted, wondering how he could look so calm while discussing what had to be a disappointment for him. “I want to be with you, but I still don’t like the idea of being chained. ”

“Then I shall not band you,” he said, sitting up away from the cushions to shrug. “I shall merely keep you in my furs and beside me, and when others appear to band one who is unclaimed, I shall face them. Perhaps not all will fight, yet many will consider it a matter of honor to face the one who challenges them. They will, of course, be blameless, yet blood will flow by cause of misunderstanding. It is a small price to pay to keep the woman of my heart from feeling herself slave.”

“You’re telling me I’m being selfishly inconsiderate,” I said, studying the lack of accusation in his blue eyes. “I’ve spent so much time emoting over being ‘chained’ that I never had the chance to consider what would happen if I were unbanded. I doubt if that many would come after me with you standing beside me, but would you really fight them just to give me my way?”

“Hama, to feel free is of great importance to a man,” he said, returning my gaze. “Should he be chained he will fight those chains, often unto death. Recently has it come to me that certain wendaa feel the same, yet their method of battle differs. A wenda will use harsh words and flight in an attempt to escape, and should these attempts prove unsuccessful she may lose all hope and will herself to death. It is scarcely my intention to keep you beside me so that your death may be achieved; sooner would I see the death of others.”

“Or your own,” I said, knowing it to be true. “And if I were really free, I’d know it even with chains all over me. Len was right: I’m making excuses to keep from committing myself. I wish we could find a place where no one would bother us and we could do as we pleased, but I have the terrible feeling there is no such place—or if there were, it would bore you to death.” I took a deep breath, then plunged in with eyes wide open. “Sadendrak, it would give me great pleasure to wear your bands. I would have all men know that I am yours alone, till the end of my days.”

“Hama sadendra,” he laughed, opening his arms to me. “We have become one at last, and it took no more than the efforts of both of us.”

I laughed along with him as I scrambled into his arms, finally appreciating the fact that compromise took two, not one demanding and the other compromising. We’d both been guilty of that, and even as I hungrily sought Tammad’s lips, I wondered how long that understanding would stay with us. The question didn’t bother me long, however; Tammad ended the kiss quickly, then produced his bands from his swordbelt. He watched me carefully as he put them on me, searching for the smallest sign of reluctance, but reluctance wasn’t what I was feeling. I wanted him more desperately with each passing minute, but wouldn’t have rushed him through the rite of five-banding even if I knew I would burst. I savored the words as he spoke them, crying like a fool and laughing like an idiot, and then hurried to help him get rid of his swordbelt and haddin. He was as hungry for me as I was for him, but we’d both forgotten about his wounds. This time I’m afraid I hurt him.