“Indeed,” murmured Gallim, sparing me enough attention to move his fingertips down my face again. “And yet the truths of a man are often not the truths of a woman. She will, of course, be offered to Cinnan again.”
“Of course,” agreed the barbarian, the hardening of the calm in his voice making me ill. “He has agreed to honor me when this meal is done.”
“I feel sure she will not again attempt insolence nor refusal,” Gallim said, his voice warming even further with confidence. For my part I just closed my eyes, hurting much more than the beating accounted for. Another clutch of thunder struck, dinning and vibrating beyond sound, and Gallim’s hand came to mine on the pitcher.
“Perhaps you had best pour the drishnak now, wenda,” he said, tightening his hold on my hand to steady the pitcher. “I would prefer seeing it in my cup rather than upon the carpeting.”
Controlling the trembling seemed to be impossible, most especially as I couldn’t be certain about its cause. I didn’t care that he was giving me to Cinnan again as a further punishment, at the same time refusing me the right to defend myself. Why would I care? It wasn’t as though I wanted or needed his arms instead of a stranger’s, it wasn’t a thing to make any great difference. With Gallim’s help I managed to fill the cup with drishnak, then prepared myself to rise and go back to the wall I’d left.
“Remain where you are, wenda,” the barbarian directed, stopping me even before I’d gotten the skirt of the gown out of my way. “As my guest enjoys your presence you will remain before him. And you may refill my cup as well.”
I didn’t so much hesitate as brace myself against the latest salvo of thunder, then reached the pitcher to my left toward the goblet being held out to me. Gallim’s hastily replaced hand kept me from spilling more than a few drops on the carpeting, but neither he nor the barbarian remarked upon the incident. I set the pitcher down on the floor in front of me, folded my hands, then stared down into the tawny depths of the drishnak.
Not thinking wasn’t hard, but not feeling the thunderstorm was a different matter. The men took their time with the meal, doing more socializing than eating and drinking, occasionally calling me over to fill their goblets. That is, they filled their own goblets from the pitcher I brought, preferring to serve themselves rather than risk the unsteadiness of my hands. I felt besieged from all sides, hammered on, beaten, and in pain; I kept my eyes away from the men I approached, knowing they were looking at me in that way l’lendaa had, knowing I couldn’t even half-cope with acknowledging those looks. They were all so big and sure of themselves, looking at me as though considering what it would be like to have me in their houses and furs. I shuddered as the last one returned the empty pitcher to me, hating to be looked at like that even as I turned away from the looks. I was on display as available merchandise, hating that even more.
“Ah, Cinnan joins us!” called out one of the men, and I turned to the door that had just opened. Cinnan stood there, tall and broad in his blue haddin and well-worn swordbelt, a nod and a smile for everyone in the room—except me. When his glance passed me it took no note of me at all, as though I were invisible or beneath his notice. I felt no insult at being treated that way, just a sad regret that it wasn’t likely to last very long.
“Cinnan, you are most welcome to my apartments,” the barbarian said, rising to his feet as Cinnan passed me and approached him. “Will you join our meal for a short while?”
“My thanks but no,” Cinnan answered, clapping Tammad once on the shoulder. “It was not my intention to disturb you as you made the acquaintance of my brother dendayy. I would not have come so early, but other matters press.”
“Another time, then,” the barbarian agreed easily with a nod, then his eyes came to me where I stood in the middle of the floor. “Step forward, wenda, and present yourself to the denday Cinnan. As he has agreed to honor me, your presence will be required.”
“As it is you he honors, no doubt your own presence would be more fitting,” I said, not really believing I’d said such a thing even after the words were out. The pain of the storm had put me into a strangely detached mood, and even if I didn’t believe it, I discovered I also didn’t care. With that in mind I added, “I feel it would be rude of me to impose upon one who is so pressed for time. ”
Even as the men in the room erupted into laughter, I could feel my shield thickening almost rigidly with the increased pressure from beyond it. Tammad’s expression hadn’t changed, Gallim stared at me with disbelief in his light eyes, and Cinnan’s expression was quizzical, but I thought I knew where that increase of pressure was coming from; the barbarian never had appreciated my sense of humor. Tammad stirred where he stood and parted his lips to speak, but Cinnan beat him to it.
“Allow me to apologize, wenda,” he said, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the amusement of his l’lendaa. “It was not my intention to insult you by suggesting that there were other, more important matters awaiting me. No matter is of greater importance than the honoring of a brother through his wenda, nor the wenda herself. Come now, and allow me to apologize in a more-complete manner.”
He put his hand out toward me, a faint grin showing on his face, the chuckling of the other men in the room nearly drowning out the rain noises. I didn’t have to look toward the barbarian to know that he hadn’t moved or changed expression, nor had he any intentions of doing so. He had already given me to Cinnan, so what more was there to say? My hesitation was no more than a deep breath long, then I moved forward to where Cinnan stood.
“Why the hell not?” I said, thrusting the empty pitcher at Tammad, who took it without stopping to think about what he was doing. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll even enjoy it.”
“What does she say?” Cinnan asked the barbarian without looking at him, his full attention on me. I looked back up at him with something like drunken belligerence, an action which made him blink.
“Her tongue is at times too barbarous to translate,” Tammad growled, throwing the empty pitcher behind him with a gesture that matched the pressure on my shield. “No matter the meaning of her words, she will accompany you.”
“I was certain of it,” Cinnan smiled, putting his hand on my arm as he turned to the door leading to the next room. “Come, wenda. I already anticipate holding you in my arms.”
There was nothing I cared to say to that, nothing that would have done any good. I let Cinnan urge me along with him without resisting, and a minute later he was closing the door to the sleeping room behind us. He released my arm, giving me the opportunity to walk to the center of the room alone, something I did immediately. The thunder roared again outside the windows, sounding much louder in the nearly empty room, making me hug myself in an attempt to keep from moaning.
“Turn and look upon me, woman,” Cinnan said from directly behind me, having come closer without my knowing it. I turned slowly and looked up into his face, seeing the frowning, narrow-eyed inspection I was getting. “Are you ill?” he demanded, brushing the hair back from my face with one big hand. “Why do you seem so strange?”
“In my eyes, I am scarcely the one to be considered strange,” I told him, then looked down from his stare. “No, I am not ill.”
“Then you will find no difficulty in speaking to me of why you did to me that which you did,” he said, his voice hardened. “To treat a man so is despicable, low and vile. Surely you knew you would be punished for the doing?”
“Perhaps I no longer cared.” I shrugged, beginning to turn away from him again. “I have recently discovered a great many things I no longer care about.”