“She seemed to be filled with too little spirit to attract a l’lenda, not to speak of a denday,” Gallim said, his twinkling eyes still on me. “She is, however, a truly well-rounded morsel, made to be touched by men.”
His observation seemed to be a cue for his hands, which rose quickly to the sheer lavender covering my breasts. I gasped as his fingers closed gently on my nipples and I began to pull away, but suddenly Tammad’s hands were on my arms, holding me still. I writhed in the double grip without being able to free myself, furious and ashamed, growing even more furious when Gallim breathed a satisfied, “Ahhh.” The motions of his fingers had managed to harden my flesh despite the denial I was filled with, and his initial satisfaction grew even higher.
“It will indeed take an effort, but I now know she may be reached,” he told the barbarian, taking his hands back. “Perhaps she had best be fed now, for she seems somewhat pale.”
“Her pallor is from another source,” the barbarian said, “yet your impression agrees with mine. I foolishly expected her to speak of her hunger before this, yet her stubbornness is apparently too great. Take the food and eat, wenda.”
He released me and pushed a bowl toward me, either not seeing or ignoring the way I was trembling. I hated him so much right then I could have killed him, with my bare hands or any weapon I could find. Gallim straightened out of his crouch and began moving away, and I blundered against his legs as I jerked myself away from Tammad, trying to get to my feet to run out of there. It was like stumbling against a tree in the forest, painful to you but nothing to the tree. Gallim turned back to see what was happening, but it was already over. Tammad had moved with his usual speed, and I’d been pulled back to be held in his arms.
“No, wenda, do not struggle,” he whispered, stroking my hair in an attempt to calm me. “I will release you when you have regained control of yourself, not sooner. It is unseemly for a guest to act so beneath the roof of his host, even more unseemly for a wenda to do so. Calm yourself and I will release you. ”
“You let him touch me!” I choked, beyond reasoning with as I struggled to break loose. “You let a stranger touch me and you didn’t give a damn! I hate you!”
“Wenda, wenda, he is not a stranger,” the barbarian sighed, struggling to hold back some emotion he refused to let me see. “Should he find an approval from me to match his desire for you, you will become his belonging. He will then have the right to do more than put a hand to you.”
“No!” I whispered, choking on the word as I closed my eyes and shook my head violently from side to side. “You can’t sell me to him, you can’t!”
He held me even more tightly against him, trying to quiet me, but I couldn’t even quiet myself. The last time I’d felt so abysmally lost and frightened, I’d been a slave among the Hamarda. I’d been afraid I was going to be killed then, but I’d since discovered there are things worse than death. I was petrified at the thought of being sold to a stranger, so completely out of control I could no longer even think about the plans I’d made. My gown twisted against the barbarian’s body as my struggles grew wilder, and the background conversations and laughter died away.
“Tammad, what ails the woman’?” Cinnan asked, more concerned than annoyed. “What words does she speak?”
“She is upset,” Tammad grunted in answer, hard put to hold onto me without hurting me. “The words she speaks are in her native tongue, filled with anguish I am unable to ease. It is one reason among many that I seek another to band her. Perhaps another man will find it possible to ease her pain.”
“You may place her in our second sleeping room if you wish,” Cinnan offered, compassion strong in his mind. “It is unoccupied now, and will provide what privacy the woman requires to collect herself. It lies through that door.”
Tammad nodded and stood up among the cushions, taking me up with him then lifting me off the floor. I kept trying to hit him in the face with my fists, but he refused to allow me to do that. I was carried around to the right of the dais, through soberly sympathetic men, and into a small room. The room was dim with the light of only two candles illuminating it, and the barbarian looked around for a moment before taking me over to the pile of bed furs and putting me on it face down. Instead of moving away as I expected him to, he put his knee in my back and pulled my wrists behind me, an instant later producing a snapping sound. I knew what he’d done and I grew even more furious, pulling at the wrist bands he’d connected with a bronze clip, having no success whatsoever in parting them again. He reached down to my ankles and did the same thing to the ankle bands, then left me like that, face down and bound hand and foot, and left the room. He was punishing me for disobeying him about my behavior, I knew, but I just didn’t care. Even if he came back and beat me, I still wouldn’t care. I squirmed around, finding it impossible to get comfortable, and worked on believing that I didn’t care.
Less than a minute later I heard muffled sounds from the outer room, and suddenly became aware of what was happening out there. My outburst must have given Aesnil ideas; the sounds I heard were the vocal evidence of her own outburst, full of reproach and bitterness. I probed to find out who she was shouting at, and was startled to discover it was Tammad. The minds of the men in the room were embarrassed, except for those of Tammad and Cinnan. Tammad was his usual calm self with an undercurrent of annoyance darting through, and he wasn’t saying anything in answer. Cinnan, however, spoke for them both and with cold anger. He seemed to be lecturing Aesnil, or at least just beginning; the Chama didn’t give him a chance to finish. She interrupted after no more than a dozen words, her own words cold and filled with the bitterness in her mind. Whatever she said shocked the other men in the room, and filled Cinnan with frustrated desperation. Tammad was no more than puzzled, but everyone listening seemed to understand that Aesnil meant what she said. When her short speech was done, her mind trace faded away toward the other side of the room, most likely into the other bedroom. The men all remained silent for a moment, embarrassment and upset clear in their thoughts, then they spoke brief words of good-bye and began leaving the room. Tammad was prepared to do the same, but Cinnan spoke, probably asking him to wait, and once the room was empty except for themselves, Cinnan spoke to him.
From Cinnan’s tone of mind as he spoke, he wasn’t as relaxed and unconcerned as he had appeared when we’d first arrived. He seemed very much like a man who had thought he’d solved all of his problems, only to suddenly discover that his solution had generated new problems which might turn out to be worse than the old ones. Tammad listened with a good deal of sympathy, making occasional comments that were more observations than suggestions, then stopped to think about a question Cinnan asked. There was a certain faint reluctance in his thoughts, but he didn’t hesitate long before agreeing to Cinnan’s request. Cinnan was pleased and grateful at Tammad’s decision, and the two spoke no more than another moment before separating, Tammad fading out quickly, Cinnan remaining in range.
I put my cheek down on the top fur of the bed pile, disgusted with how tired I was. Between the work I’d done projecting to the twenty-five men who were now gone and the eavesdropping of a minute earlier, I was just about played out. I wasn’t tiring as quickly as I used to, but I couldn’t understand why mental work was so draining. It wasn’t like running or lifting things that were heavy—or maybe it was. Just as the bottoms of my feet had gotten used to my going barefoot, it was possible I needed to build up calluses and muscles in my mind, to increase my strength and endurance. It wasn’t an unreasonable supposition, but building up my mind would not be like building up my body. I wasn’t supposed to use my abilities especially around Tammad; doing it anyway while hoping he didn’t notice wasn’t a practical consideration. It would be like lifting weights under his nose while pretending to be napping. I moved in annoyance then pulled at the bands and link, adding frustration to what I already felt. Simply picking up emotions was like raising and lowering my arms during gesturing, but that was as much as I could do without being detected.