Aesnil’s reception room was all red and silver, red-cushioned and draped, and silver carpeted. A short, broad-stepped dais stood directly opposite the double entry door, back against the far wall to allow enough room for the Chama’s guests to seat themselves on the fur carpeting and among the cushions laid on for them in front of the dais. The wide, well-cushioned area was occupied by no more than ten men, all of them strangers and therefore undoubtedly allied to Cinnan, who lazed above them on the broad step just below the dais top. As the denday who had banded the Chama Aesnil, Cinnan had a lot of power among his people, but the easy laughter he contributed to the conversation of the men on the floor below him showed nothing concerning that power. He was a man to whom power meant very little, therefore he felt comfortable with it. Unfortunately for a lot of people, the Chama did not view power with his eyes.
The Chama Aesnil lay stretched out on her side on the top of the dais, her long blond hair carefully brushed, her red gown neatly accenting her curves, her eyes down and deeply involved with the way the fingers of her hands pulled at one another. Even from the doorway I could feel her misery and fury, but not many people in her palace or country would have doubted she deserved to be miserable. Finding power a tasty dish, Aesnil had gorged herself on doing exactly as she pleased, sending innocent men to the vendra ralle, the arena, to fight for their lives, handing down decisions based on favoritism, and refusing to be banded by the l’lenda who had been chosen for her by and from among her dendayy. She had also blackmailed me into working for her, and had captured Tammad and Cinnan and declared them vendraa. I hadn’t had the easiest time in the world with her, but my feelings for her were friendship and love compared to the way the men felt. Cinnan had gotten some of his own back the day before, when his men and Tammad’s had freed them from the ralle and they had caught up to Aesnil and me, but he had a lot of things still pending between himself and the woman he’d banded. The last time I’d seen her she’d been determined not to give Cinnan any satisfaction he couldn’t simply take, which was bound to make things worse for her. When we appeared at the door Cinnan looked up with a broad grin of welcome, but Aesnil stayed as she was, unmoving and uncaring, leading me to wonder how successful she’d been.
“Tammad, welcome!” Cinnan called out, raising one arm in a gesture of expansiveness. “Take a seat where you will, and honor me by joining my repast. We have not yet celebrated our recent good fortune.”
“The honor is mine, brother,” Tammad answered, leading the way to a place among the cushions to Cinnan’s right. “A simple crust is a feast, when one shares it with friends.”
“And a feast not enough, when taken among enemies,” Cinnan agreed, completing what was obviously a well-known homily. He waited until Tammad had lowered himself to the silver fur carpeting and I had knelt beside him, then said, “I see you have done as you intended. The woman is no longer five-banded, therefore offers may be made for her. Has she displeased you after all?”
I quickly put my head down, as though deeply ashamed, nearly caught off-guard by the abrupt, unexpected beginning of the game I’d decided to play. Now that the first move had been made I wasn’t at all as sure as I had been that it would work, and small, invisible feet tiptoed up my nerve ends as my heart thumped a few beats. I could feel Tammad’s eyes on me, and his hand came to smooth down the blown-away mess my hair had become.
“She has not displeased me, Cinnan,” he said, his voice gentle and calm. “I have merely decided that she would be best off with another, and take the steps required. The doing is for the wenda’s sake, that and her happiness.”
“I see,” Cinnan acknowledged, faintly puzzled by the misery and disappointment I’d trickled to him and his men. They’d be convinced I didn’t agree with what was being done, but they’d also be convinced they could tell it just by looking at me. If any of them got the least idea I was using projections, I was dead; needless to say, I was being very, very careful.
Cinnan clapped his hands and serving slaves began entering, males and females wearing the Chama’s red and carrying food and drink. There was a rumor that Cinnan intended freeing as many slaves as he could and making them servants instead, but that was too big a job to be done quickly. It was said he would get to it as soon as he had Aesnil settled down, another big job that would not be done quickly. A male slave in tight red-leather trousers carrying a tray of silver goblets stopped in front of Tammad, but before he could take one I reached up slowly and got it for him. The look I gave the barbarian said I was remembering his instructions and obeying him reluctantly, but the emotions I projected to everyone else said I wanted desperately to serve Tammad, but was being very careful not to be too pushy. The barbarian grinned faintly at me where I knelt in front of him, knowing it wasn’t servility but the beating with his swordbelt that kept me from sitting, but none of the others in the room knew the same. With or without help they would all misinterpret whatever I did, hopefully getting the message that buying me would be a waste of time and dinga. They would picture me as being hopelessly and helplessly in love with Tammad, a woman ruined for any other man—if everything went right. If it didn’t, I didn’t even want to think about what would happen.
Naked female slaves came around with pitchers of wine, and I held Tammad’s goblet with both hands till it was filled full, then hesitantly handed it to him. The wine was that vile drishnak which I wouldn’t have touched for anything imaginable, and Tammad saw my hesitancy as taking care not to spill any of it on me. The others, however, got the impression that I wanted to take some of the drink that would so soon be inside my love, but simply didn’t dare. The combination of longing and intimidation was difficult to handle, but it was the only way to get the message across.
After the wine came the food, spiced meat chunks and stews and roast fowl and fried vegetables, and on and on. The first mouth-watering smells nearly doubled me over with hunger, but I overrode the hollowness due to how little I’d eaten that day and did nothing but feed Tammad and concentrate on my projections. Friendly conversations and a lot of laughter had been coming from the men in the room, but I’d been too busy to keep track of them more closely than just before a specific projection. That was the main reason for my startlement when one of the dendayy suddenly appeared right next to us, crouching beside me and in front of Tammad.
“I am Gallim,” he said to Tammad, his blond handsomeness growing with the friendliness of his grin. “I would look more closely at this wenda you offer for banding.”
“Certainly,” the barbarian agreed, as calm and casual as though he were offering a seetar. “Her name is Terril.”
“A lovely name for a lovely wenda,” Gallim murmured, looking down at me from his crouch. His mind was humming deeply, more than interested, and I felt the tendrils of panic curling around me. Why hadn’t he believed my projections?
“She seems fearful,” Gallim observed with a chuckle, putting one large hand to the side of my face. “How is she in the furs?”
“For the most part adequate,” Tammad answered, grinning at the furious glare I couldn’t help sending him. “Though her cheeks redden modestly, her shyness does not keep her from being as helpless in the furs as any man might wish. It is only when her temper is high that she must be taken with more than normal effort. You see how deep her fearfulness is, that it has already departed.”
The two of them laughed softly, showing me that I’d been tricked. Gallim’s mind had been no more than calm and faintly curious, but seeing my supposed fear disappear had given him immediate and deep satisfaction. He’d been suspicious of my seeming subservience, and had come over to find out for himself.