The Warrior Within

9

The rain still fell the next day and my world, too, was grey and cold. I found it impossible to look at the barbarian without tears starting in my eyes, so I avoided the sight of him as best I could. I was still able to eat none of the cold meat, so I threw it away when the barbarian turned his back, then folded the sleeping furs without comment when told to do so. The camtah was put on another of the seetarr and we began traveling again.

We might have been traveling continuously over the same stretch of road for all that I could tell. The rain fell in thick, steady torrents, the road was an endless stretch of mud, the trees looked the same, the fields looked the same. Sometimes the trees were to the right and the fields were to the left, sometimes the other way around, and sometimes there were no fields at all. Other than that, there was no variation.

We stopped at midday for another meal, but the sight of the meat, white-dotted with its own congealed fat, turned my stomach. I managed to throw it away again, wishing only for a place where the rain would not beat at me, one that did not continually rock from side to side. I could feel the barbarian’s eyes on me, feel the puzzlement he felt, but happily he said nothing.

It was late in the day when I almost fell. The dizziness had crept up on me and slowly increased until I clung to the barbarian’s rain cape in desperation. My cheek was tight against it, trying to draw every bit of coolness from it, coolness that would drive the dizziness away. The coolness wasn’t enough, the dizziness continued to increase, and then my fingers lost their grip. I slid to the left, drawn by the sea of mud beneath, expecting to go down to meet it, but was stopped instead by the giant hand of my captor. He gripped my arm tightly and drew me to the saddle in front of him, frowning as he studied me.

“What ails you, woman?” he muttered, putting his hand to my face. The touch of it was like ice, and I shivered even as it revived me somewhat. He drew his hand away again, leaned me against him, then changed the direction of the seetar. We entered the woods again, found another clearing, and stopped. I didn’t know why we’d stopped when there was still light left, but I was too dizzy to care. I sat on the seetar while the carntah went up, drawing what comfort I could from its grumbling concern.

Once again I was carried to the camtah, and once again my clothes were removed. The steadiness of my sleeping furs was a heavenly delight, but they were too warm to have on me. I kicked off the covering one, then held tight to the one beneath me.

“You must remain covered,” the barbarian said, waking me from a light doze. He threw the furs over me with one hand, the other holding a small metal bowl from which steam arose. Behind him, through the leather curtain, I saw that it was full night out, and that he had built a small, shielded fire on the edge of the verandah.

“You will eat this and the fever will be gone in hours,” he said, folding into his usual crouch. “Why did you not say you were ill?”

“I’m just tired,” I mumbled, turning away from him. I wanted to go back to sleep, the only place I could escape to where he couldn’t follow

“This must be eaten first,” he said, pulling me back. “Then you may sleep.”

I needed help to sit up, and I needed help to drink from the bowl. He’d made a broth from some of the meat, but there was an odd, pleasing taste to it that the meat didn’t have. I slowly swallowed it all, then lay down again.

The next time I woke, the barbarian’s hand on my face was a good deal warmer. Blurrily I felt his satisfaction and, through half-closed eyes, saw his smile.

“The fever is gone,” he said softly. “The next sun will find you well again.”

“I don’t want to be well.” I mumbled, still feeling the weight of my fate on me. “I want to die and have done with it. Then I’ll be free again. Free again.”

The sobs came before the tears, and they hurt my chest. But I was too sleepy to cry for long.

The never-ending rain was still there the next morning. I opened my eyes, then decided not to move anymore. If I lay still long enough, it would all be over and done with. I lay there for a few minutes, trying not to notice how hungry I was, and then the barbarian came in.

“Do you now dress,” he said, “then we shall eat and be on our way. The day does not grow longer.”

“I’m not going with you.” I mumbled into the furs. “You said that anyone who didn’t prefer death to slavery deserved to be a slave, and you were right. I’m going to stay here and die now, then I won’t be a slave any longer.”

“So now you feel yourself slave,” he said in annoyance. “Very well. It is against the laws of my people to hold slaves, therefore shall I leave you behind me. I will now pack my furs, camtah, imad and caldin. Do you now remove yourself from them.”

I stared at his broad, stubborn face for a minute, then set my lips. He was taking everything and leaving me nothing, but I shouldn’t have expected anything else. Everything and everyone was his.

I got out of the furs without saying another word, then moved past him to the curtain. I didn’t like the idea of being outside without clothes on, but I would have died rather than ask him for anything. I moved to the end of the verandah, then remembered something and turned back to him.

“If you’re taking everything else,” I said coldly “you can take these chains, too. They do belong to you.”

“I cannot,” he answered, watching me where I’d paused at the end of the veranda. “In honor I may not unband a woman save there be another man there willing to band her himself. The bands you may keep.”

“But I don’t want them!” I insisted, then forced myself to turn away from him. He’d never listen to a thing I said, and there was no sense wasting my breath. I stepped off the veranda, stood straight, then looked around.

The faint light of dawn put everything in half shadows. As I’d known, the rain still fell, but it fell softly and with more warmth than it had yet had. I was quickly soaked, but it didn’t really matter. I went to a tree on the other side of the camp and stood under it.

By the time the barbarian had everything packed, the rain had stopped. He didn’t look at me again until he was in his saddle, then he sat for a moment, as if waiting for me to say something. When I didn’t, he turned the seetarr and rode away.

I waited for something to happen, then I got tired of standing up. I squatted down and waited, but still nothing happened, except that I got hungrier. I looked around again, wondering how long it would take to die. I didn’t like just squatting there, wearing not a stitch of clothing, still trapped in those chains. It was embarrassing—and it was boring.

The sun came up, brighter than I had ever seen it. Flying things fluttered around the trees, beasts stretched happily in the woods, and even the mud seemed to settle down quietly. I stood straight and walked out from under the tree, wondering what to do.

The morning wore on and I got thirsty. The waterskins were gone with the barbarian, and the small pools on the ground were too dirty to drink from. I wandered away from the clearing, but didn’t go in the direction the barbarian had gone in. With no clothes on, I didn’t want to be near the road.

I listened to the feelings of the beings around me, annoyed that they could be so happy when I was so miserable. I hadn’t done anything that merited being brought to a strange planet and then abandoned, but I was there just the same, waiting for the one thing that would free me from bondage. Now that I was resigned to dying, how long did it take anyway?

Then I picked up the emotion of a hunting beast, no different from the others in the woods, except that it was closer. I felt its pleasure when it found a scent, and its determination when it began following that scent. I waited a moment to be sure, but there was really no doubt. The scent it had found was mine.

I moved off in the opposite direction, feeling faintly uneasy. How many of the hunting things in the forest would come across me? How many of them would I have to evade? I put together the feelings of being very big, very hungry, and very unbeatable, and projected them at the following animal. I felt it pause, considering what had just come to it, then it continued on, following my scent.

My heart started pounding and I began moving faster, appalled by what had happened. The beast hadn’t believed my projection, or it hadn’t cared. It thought of itself as very big and completely unbeatable, and its hunger was greater than mine. It was determined to eat well, and would fight for the opportunity to do so.

I stumbled through the woods, being scratched by branches, fear filling me as it never had before. I projected peace at the beast, contentment, weariness, and even fear, but nothing stopped it. It came inexorably on, patiently seeking the source of the scent.

Suddenly I stopped dead, feeling the attention of another predator. This one was ahead of me, and it had been attracted by the noise of my passage through the woods. It, too, picked up my scent and came eagerly toward me.

I looked wildly around at the silent and uncaring trees and bushes, not knowing which way to go. They were both so close, and I had no way of defending myself. I grasped the tree I stood near, looking up at the branches that were too far above my head to be reached, then my insides twisted and my eyes were pulled away from the tree. The second predator, the one that had been ahead of me, stepped into sight.

It stood no taller than my waist, but it was lean and muscled all along its five foot length. Its grey and black pelt was wet from the bushes it had passed through, its black eyes gleaming as it opened its fanged muzzle to snarl. I stood petrified, unable to move in any way, and the thing started toward me.

Then a furious roar sounded from the other direction. My head snapped around, knowing that the first predator had arrived, too. It was twice the size of the other, was covered all over with long, silky brown fur, and was absolutely furious that its prey was about to be taken by another beast. The smaller predator hissed and snarled in frustration at the sight of the larger, but it slunk off rather than fight what it knew would be a losing battle.

The big predator turned its head back to me, and I could feel its deep satisfaction and gnawing hunger. It had what it had been after, and it would take it now. From twenty feet away it began to launch itself at me.

My mind found no way to attack it from within, but I couldn’t turn my eyes away. In two bounds it was ten feet closer, and I knew that running would be useless—even if I’d been able to run. Then it left the ground in a savage spring—and twisted in the air, screaming at the shaft in its chest that was ending its life. I watched as it struck the ground, thrashing in the mud in spite of being already dead.

There was a pain in my chest and I gulped in air, not having realized that I’d been holding my breath. Weakly I turned my head and saw the barbarian standing only five feet away with a bow in his hand, and never had he looked so magnificent—or welcome. I wanted to go to him, but instead I squatted down where I was to keep from collapsing in the mud.

“My apologies,” he said as he came closer to where I squatted with whirling head in trembling hands. “I am hunting for fresh meat, and did not mean to come between you and the death you seek. I shall continue on my way at once.”

He started away again, his thoughts calm, but I was frantic. “No!” I screamed, staggering erect and running after him to throw my arms around him. “Don’t leave me again! I’ll admit it if you have to hear it, but don’t leave me again!”

“What is it that you would admit, wenda?” he asked softly, stroking my hair as I shivered against him.

I had to swallow the sour taste in my mouth before I could answer him. “I admit I’m afraid to die,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “I’m afraid to die, so I must be a slave. You were right to put chains on me.”

“You are a great trial to me,” he sighed, continuing to smooth my hair. “It is truly said that the smallest of bands may surround the greatest of difficulties. Know you, wenda, that there is much difference between fearing death and not wishing to die. Because you do not wish to die, you do not, prelta, become a slave. I, too, do not wish to die, yet I am no slave.”

“I don’t understand,” I moaned in misery, clinging to the pulse beat I could feel in his chest. “I just know that I don’t want to be hunted again. That thing was already tasting me, it could feel its teeth sinking into me.”

I broke off at the sickening memory, shuddering beyond my control to stop. I felt again the death of the two men, and I knew that I had almost shared it. The barbarian held me tight against him, and I knew, too, that the shuddering disturbed him.

“I had not realized you would feel this so sharply,” he said, almost to himself. “The thing was a mistake. Come, the camp is not far.”

He urged me along with him, and I couldn’t bring myself to loosen my hold on him. I had come so close! If I couldn’t submerge the memory, I would never be able to stop shaking again.

When we reached the camp, he made me sit down on the camtah’s veranda, dry and warmed now from the sun. I hugged myself, rocking back and forth, trying to gain control of my emotions. I was almost to the point of projecting what I felt, and that couldn’t be allowed to happen. The seetar were already snorting and throwing their heads around, and if I let loose, they might stampede.

The barbarian came back with the metal bowl, but it wasn’t steaming. He helped me put it to my lips and I swallowed gratefully- until I realized it was that vile drishnak. It had had water added to it, but it was still awful, yet he made me drink it all. I coughed and choked until it was down, then he put the bowl aside.

“The drishnak will help to calm you,” he said, taking my face in his hands to study me. “You are pale yet, but there are no tears. Why do you not cry when there is reason to cry?”

“Don’t say I cry for no reason.” I muttered, trying to rid my mouth of the drishnak taste. “if you were never going to see your home or friends again, you’d cry, too.”

“Truly, an excellent reason for tears,” he agreed solemnly, but there was some emotion he was holding back on. “I would know how the knowledge of this came to you.”

“You told me so yourself.” I said, starting to feel warm and a little drowsy. “You’re going to give me away to anyone who wants me, and I’ll never be able to go home.”

“I had thought this was but a possibility” he murmured, his eyes half closed. “Have you decided then to give me no help in my cause?”

“No.” I answered vaguely my eyes meeting his. “But I know something will go wrong, and I’ll be blamed. Then you’ll give me away because I’m your slave. I want to go home.”

“And so you shall,” he said softly, letting me lie down right there on the veranda. “Did I not give my word to return you to your embassy? You will give me your aid to the best of your ability, wenda, and I shall keep my word. Now you may sleep awhile to restore yourself. Later, we shall continue on.

“Nothing but wenda to him,” I mumbled, getting very comfortable. “Why can’t he see me as more? I’m not crippled any longer...”

I let it trail off because it was useless. I would never be anything but wenda to one like him. I wanted it not to matter, but it did matter. It mattered a lot.

I slept for a few hours, and the sun was still bright when I woke. I sat up groggily and stiffly looking around at the peaceful camp, and then the barbarian noticed me. He brought over a piece of meat and a waterskin, watched silently as I bolted down the meat, then sat himself cross-legged near me.

“Have you restored yourself?” he asked, concern and something else touching his thoughts. I wanted to see what the something else was, but it was too well covered.

“I’m all right.” I answered, trying to see through his beautiful blue eyes. “Did you mean what you said before I slept? That you would let me go home?”

“I did.” He nodded. “I gave my word. I ask only that you aid me as you gave your word to do. Is it agreed?”

His gaze was level and serious, as though the decision were really mine. “What choice do I have?” I asked with a shrug, picking at the outside of the waterskin. “I’m your slave, aren’t I?”

“Belonging, not slave,” he corrected, and I could feel the flash of impatience that he didn’t allow to show “There is a difference between belonging and slave. The Hamarda, in the desert to the west of my people’s lands, hold slaves. These slaves are chained closely and beaten upon whim. Do you not see the difference?”

I fingered the chain around my neck and remembered the last switching. “There’s a difference?”

He stared at me, fighting hard to keep his temper, then he took a deep breath and muttered, “There is much to be said to the benefit of tears. Let us see, wenda, if we may find a difference. Fetch for me that saddle strap.”

I stood up and got the saddle strap he’d pointed to, then brought it back. “Good.” He nodded, taking the thing out of my hand. It was heavy leather, thick and stiff, and its edges felt sharp. “Now do you kneel here beside me.”

I knelt down, wondering what he was getting at, and was surprised when he took me across his lap and put my arms behind me. When he let go of my arms I tried to get them apart, but the wrist bands were clipped together. He lifted my ankles to him, and in another minute they were clipped tight, too!

“What are you doing?” I asked, squirming on his lap to see if I could get loose. I got nowhere, of course, and his hand stroked my bare bottom.

“I am about to beat you,” he announced calmly. “With this strap you so kindly brought. I shall tie you by the throat to a tree, and then I shall beat you. It will, you must know, cut your body terribly, but I may do as I wish with my slave:”

“But why?” I asked in anguish. “What have I done?”

“You have done nothing,” he answered, his calm completely unchanged. “A slave may be beaten for any reason or no reason. Why do you not run from me?”

“How can I?” I asked miserably “You’ve tied me so I can’t move.”

“But surely this is something you are familiar with?” he pursued in a reasonable tone. “If you are slave and chained, it is never possible for you to run. And you are also always beaten terribly without reason. Is this not so?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again and bit at the inside of my lip. I knew damned well that he had never tied me up like that before, and that’s why I’d been able to run away from him. And I had to admit that the switch, though it hurt awfully never did more than bruise me a little. I felt the barbarian waiting for something, and I sighed. “All right,” I grudged, staring down at the dirt and grass at the edge of the veranda. “You’ve made your point. But I still don’t like wearing bands or getting switched.”

“The bands are necessary and you will grow used to them,” he answered with satisfaction. “The switching you may avoid simply by obeying me. I do not give you orders for my pleasure, wenda, but for your safety. You do not know the hazards of this world.”

He threw the strap away then reached down to unclip my ankles. I waited for him to do the same for my wrists, but it didn’t happen. Instead, his hand stroked me again.

“Now what are you doing?” I asked in exasperation. “I want to get up and get dressed.”

“There is no need for haste,” he murmured, turning me over in his lap so I could see his grin. “Know you that I have seen slave women taken by the Hamarda made to serve their masters well. I would teach you the way of this, so that should you someday find yourself true slave, you will know what is required of you.”

At that point I didn’t know what to say, but words were entirely unnecessary, and truthfully I was speechless anyway. I’d thought I knew something about male-female possibilities, but those Hamarda were totally unbelievable. The barbarian swore that the slave women always had their wrists chained behind them, but he was enjoying himself too much to be overly concerned with the truth. When I nearly had hysterics he relented and removed the clip, then comforted me in a more conventional manner. I wasn’t exactly comforted, but it was a good deal better than hysterics.

Much later, the barbarian had my ankle in his hand and was trying to tickle the bottom of my foot, when I felt something unexpected. I listened hard to make sure, then leaned up on my elbows.

“Someone’s coming,” I told him quietly. “From that way.”

He was on his feet and reaching for his haddin and swordbelt so fast that I blinked.

“How many?” he asked calmly while dressing himself. “How far are they?”

“There are two.” I answered, “and they’re about five minutes or so away A man and a woman.”

He nodded without taking his eyes from the direction in which I’d pointed. “I shall greet our visitors. Do you go now and dress yourself.”

I suddenly realized that I was stark naked, and people were coming! I hurried to the pack that held my imad and caldin, then went into the camtah. By the time I had everything tied that should be tied and went back out again, the people were riding into the camp. The girl rode behind the man on his seetar, a pack seetar following along after the first. The man was grinning broadly and so was the barbarian.

“Aldana, Tammad,” the man said in greeting. “This camping place brings an unexpected surprise. I am pleased to see that you have returned—and in time for the Ratanan.”

“Aldana, Faddan,” the barbarian answered. “It was always my intention to be at the Ratanan. This Great Meeting shall see changes.”

“My sword is yours, denday,” the man said simply, acknowledging the barbarian as his leader “May we share your camp and join you on the journey home?”

“Of course, Faddan,” the barbarian said pleasantly. “Do you step down now and set your camtah beside mine. We may use the time of this day to dry from the rains. Have you hunted?”

“Not this day,” the man answered, swinging the girl down to the ground and dismounting himself. He was nearly the size of the barbarian, but the girl was more my size. They seemed to grow men larger than average on that world. Both newcomers had blond hair and blue eyes, and the girl stood quietly behind the warrior. She wore imad and caldin, but in bright patterns rather than solids like mine, and he wore a dark green haddin. The girl glanced over at me, and I could see the gleam of a bronze-colored band on her neck.

“I have peral,” the barbarian told the other man, “also dimral against further rains. Your wenda may join mine in the preparation of it. I shall build a fire the while you see to your camtah.”

The other man nodded and led his seetarr over to ours. He paused to examine the two seetarr-that the barbarian had acquired, smiled slightly then began unpacking.

In no time at all, the fire was blazing and the second camtah was up- A large carcass, like the one we’d cooked on the last nonrainy day, was already cut up. The barbarian produced more of the wrapping leaves, and the other man gestured to the girl. She went to him and he stood her in front of him, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Tammad, I would have you know my wenda,” Faddan said quietly. “She is called Doran, and I would ask the denday to honor me.”

“Gladly will I do so,” Tammad answered with a grin. “Doran, you are lovelier than your name, and the honor is mine.”

The girl smiled sweetly and looked up at Tammad. “The denday shall have to earn his honor” she quipped. “I am not minded to agree with Faddan.”

The two men laughed and Faddan shook her slightly “Your agreement is not necessary wenda,” he said, trying to sound stem. “This is a matter between I’lendaa! Go you now and see to the dimral.”

“My wenda shall aid her,” the barbarian said, and all eyes immediately turned in my direction. “She was a gift to me from her father, whose land lies far beyond the house of the offworlders. They know nothing there of the banding and training of wendaa, nor are our customs understood by them. It will require a good deal of teaching, but I shall one day see her a proper wenda.”

“A glorious gift,” Faddan murmured, examining me with his eyes, his mind full of approval.” Dark-haired and green-eyed. And one such as she went unbanded?”

“Unbanded and living as she would,” Tammad nodded. “It is a land of darayse, and though many sought her, she accepted none. Her father despaired until my appearance, then contrived to send her with me upon my departure. Her look pleased me, else I would not have taken the bother. She is called Terril.”

“An odd name,” Faddan mused, “yet one that suits her. Though she be five-banded, denday, she will draw the eyes of many men.”

“This is known to me,” Tammad agreed with a shrug. “It shall make little difference as the wenda is now my belonging. See to the dimral with Doran, Terril.”

The two men turned away toward Faddan’s camtah and the girl came over to me, staring curiously. We put two pieces of the dimral on sticks, and when the meat was in the fire, her curiosity turned vocal.

“Are wendaa truly unbanded in your land?” she asked, and I could feel her disbelief. “How, then, do men know if they may have the wenda they see?”

“The men ask.” I told her, studying the five bands she also wore. “If the man pleases her, she accepts him. If he does not please her, she sends him away.”

“How may a wenda send away l’lenda?” She laughed. “You are no larger than I, perhaps even smaller. Should Faddan displease me and I attempt to send him away, his laughter would sound out for all to hear.”

“The men of my land are better than l’lendaa,” I answered, feeling my tone going stiff. “They need not be forced to leave. If they are not wanted, they go of their own accord.”

“At the bidding of wendaa?” she snickered. “They must truly be darayse—and more, to care so little for the wendaa of their land. I would not care to live there.”

“I do care to live there,” I countered. “And I shall return there soon. Then I will no longer need to wear bands as a man’s belonging.”

“The denday Tammad is a man among men; she murmured, glancing sideways to where Tammad and Faddan sat talking and laughing. “I have heard much said of him, and many are the wendaa who would gladly be his belonging. If you do not please him, why does he allow you to wear the fifth band?”

“I please him well enough.” I sniffed, feeling slightly put out. “And he does not allow me to wear his bands, but rather forces me to wear them. But he does not please me at all, and soon I shall return home.”

“Do not speak foolishly, Terril,” she grinned. “If you please the denday, you shall remain his belonging. If you do not please him, he shall unband you and find another to care for you, as he has done many times with other wendaa. He is not darayse, and shall not allow you to be unprotected.”

“In my land, I need no one’s protection.” I said airily “My standing is such that all look upon me with respect. I shall return home as soon as I wish to.”

“And you shall not wish to, save Tammad gives his word,” she laughed. “Were you to make the attempt sooner, it would be your wish to remain unseated that day and perhaps the next as well. The denday Tammad will accept naught save obedience from wendaa.”

“The denday Tammad may accept naught in all!” I snapped, feeling my cheeks redden. “I have given my word to accompany him for the while, and shall do so despite my own wishes to the contrary. I, too, know something of honor.”

I know my head was up as I said that, and she stared at me again in uncertainty Wendaa are supposed to be uninvolved with honor as honor is supposedly a man’s province alone. I found that I meant every word I’d said to her, and that it gave me a sense of satisfaction. I was honor bound to complete the barbarian’s assignment, even if I had been tricked into accepting it. I’d been wrong in trying to run away, because acceptance is acceptance. I’d complete the assignment, and return home with no unpaid debts left behind me.

The girl Doran—whose name was that of a pretty blue flower that grew wild—and I finished cooking and wrapping the dimral while the men socialized and drank drishnak. The fact that they did nothing to help didn’t bother Doran in the least, but it annoyed me quite a bit. In spite of my own experiences to the contrary, I can’t help feeling that catching the beast is the easy part.

When the dimral was all wrapped, it was clothes washing time again. Another stream—or a different part of the same stream—helped to take care of that chore, and then Doran and I were allowed to bathe. I was slightly upset because Faddan was there in addition to the barbarian, but I was too desperate to let that stop me. I’d always considered bathing something to be taken for granted, but on Rimilia it was luxury.

The barbarian insisted that Faddan bathe first, so the man stripped and entered the water while Tammad stood guard. Faddan let Doran hold onto his shoulders while he swam to the middle of the stream and back, and she acted as though she’d just had a brush with death. When he offered to teach her how to swim and she refused with a firm headshake and a large shudder, it made a little more sense, but not much. I’d been swimming since I was a child, and fear of water was something I could feel in others, but not understand on a personal level.

When Faddan climbed out, Tammad took his turn. After he’d splashed around a bit to get wet, he came over to me.

“Would you care to visit the center of the stream, too?” he asked. “I’m a strong swimmer, and there is nothing to fear.”

“I believe I would enjoy that.” I answered his smile. “The water holds no fear for me.”

“Good.” He grinned. “Take hold of my shoulders and do not let go.”

He turned around and ducked low in the water to allow me to reach him more easily, and I had a nice ride out to the middle of the stream. The barbarian’s muscles rippled under his skin, his stroke even and sure, but I was a good swimmer, too. The light stream current was no hazard, so when the barbarian paused to turn around, I let go of him and floated away on my own.

He turned immediately in the water, searching for me frantically; I waved to him with a laugh, then dived under. I didn’t go very deep or very far, but when I surfaced again I didn’t need the thunder in his thoughts to bring me his displeasure. The look on his face was enough to make Sandy’s quadriwagon stop enveloping again, and I didn’t understand it, so I swam closer to him.

“What’s the matter?” I asked in a low voice. “I’ve been swimming for years.”

“This should have been told to me sooner;” he said coldly, anger and annoyance and an odd tinge of fear filling him. “Do you now return to the bank—above water!”

He shoved me in that direction to start me off, then paced me as I swam. I still didn’t know what he was so upset about, but he wasn’t the only one. Faddan stood on the bank looking and thinking pure grim, and Doran, who stood next to him, wasn’t doing much better. When I got to the bank, Faddan reached down and hauled me onto it by one wrist, and the barbarian vaulted out alone a minute later. I stood there dripping and being dripped on by a coldly irate Tammad.

“I do not understand what troubles you,” I said to him. “That I am able to swim should not cause such anger.”

“That you did not say you are able to swim is reason enough for anger,” he answered in a hard voice. “I had thought you close to drowning when you left me! But to behave so foolishly as to swim beneath the water! Do you seek to end your life, wenda?”

“You cannot swim underwater!” I laughed, finally understanding. “That is what troubles you! There is little to it, l’lenda. Would you have me teach you?”

I was feeling pleased that I’d finally found something that that so-superior barbarian couldn’t do, but his feelings and reactions confused me.

“Dress yourself!” he ordered, controlling his fury with much difficulty. “We return to the camp.”

There was no longer anything to grin at, so I quietly put on the relatively clean imad and caldin and gathered up the recently washed ones, plus some of the waterskins. Faddan was still glaring at me, and Doran stood behind and to one side of him, shaking her head ruefully at me. The way they all acted, you’d think I’d committed some terrible crime, but I hadn’t done anything! The barbarian didn’t say another word, and we all walked back to the camp in silence.

Once we got there, Doran went to spread her wet imad and caldin on the roof of Faddan’s camtah, and I did the same on the roof of Tammad’s. I’d barely finished when I was grabbed roughly by the arm and pushed by the barbarian ahead of him into the camtah. I was able to turn to look at him when he paused to close the leather curtain, and the gloom wasn’t so deep that I couldn’t see the switch he was holding. The fury in him hadn’t eased off much, and I was suddenly afraid.

“What did I do?” I demanded in a voice I couldn’t keep from trembling. “You have to tell me what I did!”

But he didn’t tell me. Without a word he held me in place, bared me, and gave me a switching worse than any he had yet given me. I screamed and begged him to tell me what I’d done, but he had no patience for explanations. With the fury was outrage and bitterness, and in my pain I, too, raged and called him barbarian. I was able to keep from projecting, but the barbarian’s arm was stronger than my determination to give him no satisfaction. The tears came long before he let me go, and when he was gone, I lay on the floor of the camtah near my furs, crying uncontrollably.

A short while later, the curtain was moved aside and Doran came in. She sat next to me and stroked my hair, sympathy and compassion clear in her thoughts. She leaned over me to see what had been done, and a pang of strong, empathetic pain flashed before she sat back with a sigh, smoothing my hair again.

“Truly Terril, his anger was greater than it seemed,” she said softly. “The insult was grave, yet l’lendaa do not often take such strong measures with wendaa. A lighter switching is sufficient to teach her her place.”

“He hates me as I hate him.” I choked out, feeling pain deep inside me, too. “I gave him no insult, yet he beat me. I hate him!”

“Can you not see the insult you gave?” she asked gently. “I had wondered at your foolish behavior. Know then, Terril, that to taunt a warrior with some lack of ability is insult enough, but to offer him instruction before others is to call him darayse. Had you been warrior yourself, it would have meant your life or Tammad’s but the double sound within your name does not make you l’lenda. You are still wenda, and subject to Tammad’s switch.”

“I wish I were l’lenda!” I answered bitterly, wiping at the wetness on my face with the back of my hand. “It would give me much pleasure to end that that—barbarian! I hate him as I have never hated another!”

“You hate him, you are untutored in our ways, you insult him deeply, yet he keeps you,” she mused, curiosity and confusion mingled within her. “I would know the why of it, but the denday’s thoughts are not for me to know. Best you rest now till the greater of the pain is past. I shall begin the peral, and you may aid me later.”

She went out, leaving me alone in the camtah, but I couldn’t rest. I stretched out on the leather, a fistful of the sleeping furs in my hand, the ache inside and out of me consuming me. I finally knew what had caused the beating, but that didn’t make me hate him any less. I hadn’t insulted him on purpose, but that had made no difference to him. He beat me as if I were less than a seetar and he kept me only for the help he needed. Not a woman but a thing, to be endured until it was used and then discarded with relief. The tears flowed easily down my cheeks again to my outstretched arms and I lay still, wishing that the predator’s hunt had been successful. The feel of its teeth in my flesh could not have been as severe a pain as what I felt inside me then.

When Doran called me, I went outside the camtah. The sun was low in the sky, and the two warriors were with the seetarr checking hooves and mouths, running their hands over high, broad backs. Neither one of them turned as Doran gestured me over.

“The peral must be turned constantly,” she directed, nodding at the relatively small animal that was skinned and spitted over the fire. It had been seasoned with bits of the wrapping leaf, and had already been cooking awhile.

I took over at the crank of the spit, squatted down, and turned the thing as I stared into the fire. Doran went inside Faddan’s camtah, but I was grateful for what she’d already done. I was sure she wouldn’t have called me at all if she hadn’t had to.

As I turned the animal, I tried to pretend to myself that I was unawakened, that I didn’t know the feelings of the warriors near the seetarr. They were both aware of me as I crouched near the fire, but pretending didn’t help. I still felt Faddan’s faint sympathy and curiosity; I also felt the hard knot of tangle in the barbarian, not the least trace of tenderness or regret in him. A stone he was, and he cared nothing for me.

When Doran pronounced the animal done, Faddan lifted it off the spit, placed it on a leaf, and cut it up into quarters. There was more in my quarter than I could possibly eat, but I accepted it silently and carried it away from the fire that the other three sat themselves near. It was dark enough to find a good shadow, and I crouched in it, waiting for the meat to cool.

The conversation between the men slowly came to include Doran, and there was laughter shared among them. I crouched in my shadow and ate as I watched them eat, realizing there was more than physical distance separating me from them. They belonged together on their world, but I was an intruder who didn’t fit in, an outsider, for all that I knew their language. Before very long, I put the meat aside and simply watched them.

The conversation continued for a short while after they’d finished eating, then the barbarian stood up. Doran stood too, but with an odd sort of hesitation. Faddan stayed seated, but he smiled and nodded at her with deep satisfaction, so she turned, still hesitantly to the barbarian. He reached his hand out and stroked her cheek gently then took her arm and drew her into his camtah. Faddan made himself more comfortable by the fire.

I closed my eyes, but eyes are easily closed, and even open they wouldn’t have seen what there was to be felt inside the camtah. Doran teased lightly for a short while, but only to hide the tinge of fear she felt. Her mind quivered slightly when she was first touched, but she soon settled down to pleasurable acceptance. The fear disappeared completely and didn’t return, because he was gentle with her, gentle and tender! Tenderness for her, beatings and no regret for me. I lay down on the dark ground and curled up tight, feeling his satisfaction grow higher.

“It is late, Terril,” Faddan’s voice came suddenly from above me. “Come, you are to share my camtah this night.”

I curled up tighter, wishing him away from me, but he was l’lenda. He picked me up with no effort, carried me to his camtah, and put me down on furs. The smell of the camtah was different, and the furs were hers, but she didn’t need them. She had my furs, and she had—I wanted to cry but it hurt too much.

“The denday honors me this night,” Faddan said, feeling very pleased, deliberately ignoring my tight-clenched eyes and fists. “As it is Doran’s time, it is my hope that Tammad will give her his child so that I may raise it among those of my own that Doran shall give me. It is high honor to raise the child of a denday. ”

I didn’t answer him, and couldn’t keep myself from probing at the other camtah, searching for the least indication of dissatisfaction. I reached to his mind and hers, but there was nothing but shared pleasure there, nothing but the happiness of two people together. I put my fingers in the band around my neck and pulled at it, not caring how the chain dug into my neck and fingers.

“It is our way, Terril,” Faddan said gently forcing my fingers away from the band. “It does not mean that Tammad no longer considers you his belonging. He has told me that he shall not unband you.”

I opened my eyes to the shadows to find that his swordbelt and haddin were gone, and I suddenly realized that he was untying my imad and caldin! I tried to get away from him, tried to get out of the camtah—but he was l’lenda. His strength kept me where he wanted me, the imad and caldin were removed, then he lay down to take me in his arms.

“The denday does not wish you to be alone this night,” he murmured, holding me up against the warmth of his body. “He does me further honor by asking that I see to you. I shall ease your hurt as best I may”

He used me then as l’lenda do, and his gentleness was bitter to me. I didn’t want to be used, but more than that I didn’t want his gentleness! I struggled only a short time, then lay quietly and let him do as he wished. I wasn’t a slave to be chained and beaten, oh no. I was no less than a belonging to be given to any man approved of by him to whom I belonged. I lay quietly in the cloaking darkness, seeing the difference clearly