“Which it hopefully shall not be,” Leelan agreed with a slow nod. “Should those who support us succeed in being stationed at the gate . . . . Ah well, the success of such efforts will be seen upon our arrival. Let us now see to the wrapping of both of our gifts.”
Relgon chuckled again as she turned away with Leelan, and the four women servants sighed as they went back to their work. Dallan still stood with head and eyes down, his trapped mind really suffering, only the determination of his need to do what was necessary making it at all bearable. I waited until Leelan and Relgon had left the room, and then I moved nearer to the man who had been given no choice at all.
“To hold another where he or she has no wish to be is often done on this world,” I said in a very low voice as I looked up at him, raising one hand to run a finger through his blond chest hair. “I was forced, through a need to protect the honor of my sadendrak, into a place I had no wish to be. Now is it you who is similarly forced, to assure the safe release of those who are held captive, both in the palace and in the city itself. Consider, as matters progress, how great a satisfaction is yours through so noble a sacrifice; and have no fear, brother, for I shall not allow harm to come to you. I will look upon your protection as my duty.”
I ran my hand over his hard, strongly muscled shoulder and arm then turned away from him, allowing him nothing in the way of useful anger. Frustration was all the slave Daldrin could feel, that and misery at what was being done to him, outrage and humiliation forced low and into the background. He still towered over me but this time it was he who was helpless, and it would be interesting to see if he managed to get the message.
Relgon came back with brown cloth for our slave to put around himself, and a little later Leelan brought in a long, rectangular bundle wrapped in golden cloth and tied with red silk. Leelan handled it as though it had more bulk than weight, but her mind sounded a sigh of relief when she handed it over to Dallan. I stayed where I was on the carpet fur among some cushions, sipping at a goblet of juice and trying to relax. It was almost time-It was almost time—and if I hadn’t had to monitor Dallan, I probably would have gone crazy.
When time drags along on one end of a wait, it sometimes has a habit of making up for it on the other end. After hours and centuries of seeing to the last necessary details, suddenly Deegor and Siitil and a couple of the others were there, and the waiting was over. I scrambled to my feet, banging my left ankle with my scabbarded sword and catching my arm on its hilt, then stood very still for a minute and closed my eyes. Control, I thought, taking a deep breath—if you can’t control yourself you’re worse than useless. The deep breath seemed to do more good than the pep talk, but at least I was able to wish up the curtain for my mind. I still had control of Dallan through it, but nothing else showed; no sense in warning everybody that the new secret weapon was on her way. I hadn’t really noticed the buzzing of the Hand of Power that morning, but as I walked over to join the others my stomach was churning and my head was nearly pounding.
“ . . . we shall soon know,” Leelan was saying to Siitil, obviously trying to calm the other w’wenda down before she went up in flames. Siitil was almost in a worse state than I was, but not from nervousness. Her burning drive to get to it was nearly beyond her control.
“You and those with you shall soon know!” Siitil replied in a snarl, all but the thinnest layer of civility gone from her. “We others must remain without the wall, awaiting what we hope will come! I am not made for skulking about and waiting, Leelan. ”
“Risking one’s life is much the easier, Siitil,” Leelan said, commiserating, seriously meaning what she was saying, and I couldn’t stand it any longer. One person out of control in a group is enough, most especially when something can be done for the other one. I moved through my curtain and touched Siitil carefully, trying to calm her without letting her know what was happening, and happily it worked. She took a deep breath as the invisible twisting daggers withdrew from her flesh, and even managed something of a smile.
“And it is for all of us and our need for revenge that you risk that life,” she said, stepping forward to put her hand to Leelan’s shoulder. “Should the unthinkable occur and you fail, sister, rest easy in the knowledge that we others will find another time. For now, our lot is waiting.”
With that, Siitil and the other two left, all of them feeling better than they had, giving me the absurd impression that they were characters in a play. Enter these and exit those, speak your lines and don’t forget the gestures, find your mark then stumble off-stage into the wings. We all knew what was ahead but not how it would turn out, and for that I envied the playwright and the director.
“Clearly, it must be Terril,” Deegor was saying to Leelan and Relgon when I returned from my trip into imagination, for some reason opening her swordbelt. “The others must be armed for their own sake.”
“Clearly, what must be Terril?” I asked, moving closer to the remaining members of the group. It still made me feel odd to be the smallest one among them, but the feeling wasn’t as acute as when I stood among men.
“When we enter the palace and the battle is about to begin, you must give me your sword,” Deegor said, handing her own weapon to Relgon. “If it were possible I would give you mine to wear, yet are too many of the guard familiar with the look of it. I shall have to make do with your weapon.”
I looked at the sword Deegor was giving up, noticing for the first time the ornate hilt of the weapon, but still didn’t understand.
“In what manner will it be possible for you to reach me?” I asked her, also wondering why Relgon was now donning the blade. The only way most people could tell the twins apart was by who was wearing a sword and who wasn’t. “You will be without the wall, and your sister in our midst.”
“Relgon shall indeed be with you, yet only in name,” Deegor said, smoothing at her gray breeches to eliminate any creases the swordbelt might have caused. “It has come to us how useful it may be, to have a w’wenda where none is expected. Ever has it been Relgon who has accompanied Leelan into the palace, and this time shall be no different from the rest. We need have no fear that Leelan’s mind will be touched in my sister’s absence.”
“How excellently well all our planning has gone,” Relgon observed, grinning around at all of us. “With Terril among us the thoughts fairly fall over one another in their haste to be proposed, for she is our talisman of fortune. We will succeed, sisters, I am certain we will succeed!”
The rest of us said something in agreement with that, but what, exactly, is beyond me to remember. The one thought that came crystal clear as we made ready to leave, though, was one I would rather not have had. Relgon was certain that we would win, but my talent for the future, if talent it was, remained grimly silent on the point.
The sun was high enough to be hot, but hadn’t been up long enough to dry up the mud. Leelan and her escort of five w’wendaa, one advisor and one male slave, moved along the dirt-based street of Vediaster, avoiding as many of the puddles as possible, keeping to a decent pace, but making no effort to hurry. We didn’t have all that far to go, and the people in the crowds made a point of stepping aside for us.
Leelan was being grave and silent on purpose, pretending that she was going to a w’wenda’s idea of execution, all the while fighting inside to force her mind to match. Deegor walked just as silently beside her, watching the younger woman’s efforts with approval, sternly keeping her left hand from searching for a hilt to rest on. I walked with the four real w’wendaa, trying to look competent and unsurprised that one of them was actually a bit shorter than I was, my mind on the alert against any sort of projections while automatically monitoring and supporting Dallan. Our poor male slave was the only one barefoot among us, or at least he had been until the mud corrected all that. He walked behind the two leaders and in front of the following w’wendaa, his large ornate burden held carefully in his arms, his awareness of the way he was being stared at giving him a really hard time. Dallan had to stay with being the slave Daldrin-everything inside him said so—but that didn’t keep him from suffering.