“While attempting to find victory in our wager,” he said finishing off the last of his dimral. “Perhaps such wagering would best be left to another time.”
“Will you hold off on punishing me until that other time?” I asked feeling considerably more comfortable with the thought of challenge by appointment than by spontaneous occurrence.
“Certainly not,” he said with a faint grin, getting a good deal of enjoyment out of explaining the rules of the game to the novice. “One receives what one has earned, whether it be respect for abilities or punishment for disrespect. Till now you have earned no more than punishment, wenda. ”
“So it’s do or die,” I summed up even more annoyed by all that enjoyment he was feeling, then took another bite of dimral as I shrugged. “Then we might as well get on with it. If I’m going to be punished anyway, there’s no sense in not providing a real reason for it.”
Some of his satisfaction thinned at that comment, but he was too filled with self-confidence to be really worried. He nodded his calm acceptance to my challenge, then turned and led the way back down to the others. Cinnan and Dallan had found rocks to sit on while they ate, and they looked up at Tammad when he stopped not far from them.
“My wenda has come to the decision that she would have the respect normally given only to l’lendaa,” he announced, his tone so free of ridicule that it was the next thing to grave. “In order to justify such a desire, she will exhibit her ability to punish insolence and disrespect. She has been given my permission to touch me with her power as she wills.”
Cinnan and Dallan made no vocal comments to what they’d been told, but as Tammad moved to one of the pack seetarr the glance they exchanged was more than eloquent. They both found the thought of my request highly amusing, about on a par with seeing a small child trying to bend a bow three times his own height. They hadn’t missed the point that I’d been given permission to touch Tammad’s mind, and as amused as they were, I was twice as furious. Although he wouldn’t have looked at it that way the barbarian was cheating, trying to make me subconsciously believe that whatever happened was happening because he was allowing it. That meant it would also have to stop when he wanted it to, and would never quite get bad enough to really bother him. With restrictions like that, even unconscious ones, I’d have about as much chance at winning as that child would have to bend the bow three times his own height. But I would win because I had to win; honor and dignity demanded no less.
Even as I opened the fur I’d been holding around me and let it drop to the ground, I felt a faint surprise at the calm detachment which had flowed over me in spite of my previous anger. I should have been sputtering in outrage instead of quietly watching Tammad take another piece of dimral from the pack before turning away from it, trying to argue with words instead of waiting for him to establish his own ground between Cinnan and Dallan. He was going to give me enough opportunity to make an absolute fool of myself before calling a halt to the attempt, let me know finally and without argument that I had no right to anything beyond what he was willing to grant me. I watched him getting ready to sit down, and felt no doubt about what I had to do.
The first step was gathering everything I’d felt during that strapping I’d been given, the dismay and humiliation and pain and sense of being punished by someone very much stronger than myself. I’d done something like that once before to the barbarian, but I hadn’t been able to put much strength into the projection or hold it for long. This time there was no lack of strength to worry about, no uncertainty or doubt as to whether I was doing the right thing; I took the punishment and sharpened its edges, then gave it to the man who refused to accord someone respect without being forced into it.
“Aiii!” he shouted in shock, dropping the meat he held and throwing himself forward to hands and knees. I’d timed the projection to match his movements exactly, and just as he’d lowered himself into contact with the grass I’d given it to him all at once. His mind had been braced against every thing and anything, confidently prepared to resist any sort of attack, but he was still thinking in terms of the physical even when he knew only the mental was involved. He was sure beyond doubt that I couldn’t touch or hurt him physically, and tended to forget that all too often what our minds felt was precisely what our bodies would feel.
“You have now been punished for failing to give me the respect I mean to have,” I told him in Rimilian, the words so calm they should have put him to sleep. “You may not attempt to deny me again.”
“May I not, wenda,” he growled as he glared up at me, his anger rising and growing hotter when he found he could neither throw off the effects of my continuing projection nor shield his mind against it. Dallan and Cinnan stared with frowns indicating their lack of understanding as he began forcing himself to his feet, his mind determined to do something to end what was happening to him. He made it erect with his teeth bared against what he was feeling, his face red from embarrassment, and then he was moving toward me, furious and unstoppable.
Or unstoppable as far as he was concerned. I waited right where I was until he reached me, until he stretched his big hands out to grab me by the arms. He was going to shake me until I lost the concentration necessary for projection, and then he was going to collect the spoils of his victory. His furious hands came to me and began closing on my arms, and that was when I split my projection, in a way I’d never done before. Even as I kept the original projection going I also gave him the sense of touching something so hot that skin would blister and peel and blacken if contact was made and continued. He pulled his hands away from me with a hiss, his mind clanging with shock and pure disbelief, and then he had backed two steps, hugging his hands under his arms in an effort to stop the flaming pain. He was bewildered and suddenly filled with uncertainty, his blue eyes staring at me in a very strange way, and then the determination in him surged through everything else. There was only one thing left to do, and he was going to do it.
Despite the pain he felt he reached one hand behind him, and when it came forward it was holding a dagger. I could see that he had no intentions of hurting me with it, but he was remembering the last time I’d challenged him publicly, the time I’d tried facing him with exactly that weapon. I’d been afraid of the dagger, too afraid to do more than collapse in hysterics when he’d jumped at me with a shout, but fear right then did not affect me. He grasped the hilt as tightly as he could, denying as much of the pain as possible, gathering himself to leap at me with a shout—but I was ready first.
Vertigo is a terrible affliction, one that robs people of all sense of balance, all knowledge of where the ground is and where they are in relation to that ground. It spins them dizzily around with the terrible fear of falling, and sends them down even when they’re not sure where down is. Tammad cried out in a strangled voice, dropping the dagger as he staggered backward, his mind lost and helpless in the overpowering maelstrom, unaware of Dallan and Cinnan jumping to their feet even as he fell. The two Rimilians shouted in dismay as he collapsed, understanding nothing of what had gone on between us, and then the pain of Tammad’s hitting the ground reached me. It wasn’t pain I had fooled his mind into believing in, it was real pain, affecting him strongly because of the confusion and helplessness he was lost in. The detachment and calm I’d been held by broke instantly then, like a bubble, and I suddenly knew just what I had done.
“No!” I screamed, running forward to drop to my knees beside the barbarian and throw my arms around his face and head. “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t, please don’t be hurt! Please, hamak, please don’t be hurt!”