“No,” I lied, quickly turning my back on the windows. “I merely find rainstorms filled with ill fortune for me. I simply dislike them.”
“I see,” he answered, putting his hands on my shoulders to urge me down flat beside him. He remained leaning on his left elbow, looking down at me where I lay.
“Well, why do you hesitate?” I snapped after a minute of being stared at and not touched. “Do you seek to make me feel ahresta?”
“I do not hesitate,” he said with a very faint smile, still making no effort to touch me. “I am not in the habit of taking a woman in my arms while annoyance fills my mind. I will not have any woman feel slighted when held by me. I would not give her such hurt.”
I felt my hands curl into fists at my sides, underlining my need to scream out that it wasn’t fair. I would have shouted it, but he would have laughed at me, giving back what he had gotten. He’d realized that I’d gotten him annoyed on purpose, and he was trying to punish me for it.
“You may calm yourself or not as you wish,” I said, staring up at him with all the furious outrage I felt. “In the end, it will make no difference at all. I have decided that you will have no pleasure from me.”
“Have you, indeed, wenda,” he murmured, reaching a hand out to touch my face gently. “I believe you have already been told which decisions are yours and which are not. Tammad has asked that I see to you and I shall do so, with proper care and tenderness as well as the thoroughness he expects. It is my duty to do so.”
“Alas, Cinnan denday, your duty is fated to be left undone,” I countered, ignoring his hand as I locked eyes with him. I knew he’d never leave me alone of his own accord, and I couldn’t stand being pushed around any longer. With the last strength I possessed, I forced my way into his mind and planted doubt so deep he was rendered impotent, for that night at least and hopefully into the morning. His fury finally drove me out, but not until it was too late to do him any good. At first he didn’t understand what I’d done, and his anger moved him to try using me harshly—until he realized he couldn’t use me at all. The shock in his mind was so strong it reached through the waves of exhaustion rolling over me, telling me he’d never had that experience before. He sat at the edge of the bed furs, trembling from the shock, and I couldn’t have done anything to ease his difficulty even if I’d wanted to. Expending the last of my strength had acted as a drug on me, sending me helplessly down into sleep. Even as my eyes closed I felt the stirrings of elation, knowing I’d won after all, knowing Cinnan would be unable to touch me.
The night was peaceful and quiet—but in the morning he told Tammad what I’d done.
I knelt to the side of the room, beside a wall, trying to make myself as unobtrusive as possible, flinching every time the lightning and thunder struck. The men in the room were laughing and talking over the storm sounds, drinking the drinks and eating the food they’d been served—that I’d served. It still hurt to move, but even more painful was opening my shield and picking up the barbarian’s continued anger, the fury he’d been feeling ever since Cinnan had told him what I’d done. Because of the storm, he hadn’t been able to make me cut the switch myself, but that hadn’t stopped him from using one cut by someone else. I’d been feeling justified in my efforts until I’d come face to face with him, and after that I’d just felt more frightened than I ever had before. The barbarian seemed to consider my efforts toward self-defense a personal affront to him, and his rage had nearly knocked me over. Explanations had been out of the question, just as impossible as trying to control his anger. In order to touch him I would have had to open my shield, but I’d had enough pain waiting for me. I didn’t have to go looking for any more.
A triple crash of thunder rocked the room, drowning out the conversations and sending me huddling closer to the wall. The reception room of our suite was large enough under most circumstances, but right then I could have used five times the distance between me and the windows. Slaves had replaced the sheer curtains with heavier, glazed cloth of some sort that seemed to be waterproof, but the cloth was still transparent enough to let me see the storm as well as hear and feel it. Thunderstorms had disturbed me for as long as I could remember, but the storms of Central were nothing compared to the violences of Rimilia. Even my shield seemed like no more than fine netting before it, through which flashed every troubled thought on the planet.
“Bring the pitcher of wine, wenda,” the barbarian called after the thunder had subsided to mere rumbles and growls, backdropping the thud of trampling rain. “My guest has emptied his cup and wishes to have it refilled.”
Without looking up I forced myself to my feet, took the pitcher from the small table it stood on, then walked with eyes down to where the men sat among the cushions. The barbarian was hosting an informal midday meat for Cinnan’s dendayy, a small party to which no slaves had been invited. My serving all of them wasn’t considered slavery, but then that was their opinion.
“Kneel here and serve me, wenda,” I heard from the man closest to the barbarian, the one who sat immediately to his left. I hesitated visibly when I heard the voice, recognizing the tones of Gallim, the denday who had been interested in me the day before. I’d seen him when I’d served him earlier, but he hadn’t been sitting right next to Tammad then. Having to keep my shield closed was handicapping me, nearly to the crippling point. I knelt slowly and tried to give my attention to his goblet, but he wasn’t holding it out.
“The gown you wear this day enhances your loveliness, wenda,” Gallim said, his voice warm and friendly. “Always have I felt that that color should be reserved for glorious flowers and desirable wendaa.”
He paused, obviously expecting some sort of answer from me, but the answer I would have made was on the barbarian’s forget-it list. The gown I wore was pink, his preference, not mine. I kept my eyes on Gallim’s silver goblet and didn’t say a word.
“Modesty is becoming in a wenda,” Gallim finally said when it was clear I had nothing to say, approval strong in his voice. “Raise your eyes to mine, little one, so that I may take pleasure from their beauty. Rarely does a man see eyes of such a green.”
I had no interest whatsoever in looking at him, but I also had no choice whatsoever. I raised my gaze from his goblet to his face, then discovered that I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. He was looking at me with that direct stare of the Rimilian warrior, deep, penetrating, evaluating and appreciating. I found a point beyond his left ear, and just stared at that.
“She is truly a great beauty, Tammad,” he said, putting his hand out to touch my cheek with his fingertips. “It is clear, however, that she has recently shed tears. May I ask what caused them?”
“She was soundly switched, Gallim,” the barbarian answered, his voice as calm as ever despite the increased pressure I could feel against my shield. “She shamed me before Cinnan, shamed him as well, and disobeyed my strictest commands. These are common failings with her, ones the switch has not yet cured her of. ”
“Unhappiness is a common cause for disobedience,” Gallim said, as though agreeing in some way with the barbarian. “I will not ask in what manner she shamed Cinnan, for the question would be improper if put to any save him, yet I would put the other question. In what manner were you shamed?”
“The woman was given to Cinnan in return for a host-gift,” Tammad said, shifting somewhat among the cushions. “Rather than give him the pleasure I wished for him, she gave him insolence and refusal. Were she truly one with me, my feelings would be understood and respected by her, shared in deed though thought disagreed. Those words, first spoken by our fathers’ fathers, are truth.”
But what about my feelings? I demanded silently, keeping my eyes to Gallim’s left. Don’t my feelings count for anything? Why can’t my feelings be understood and respected? Because I’m not a l’lenda? Because I’m only a woman?