I tried to pull away from him then, to get away from the pity so clear in his eyes, but he still refused to let me go. I struggled for a minute or two, blessing the fact that my shield was closed, wishing I’d also kept my eyes closed. I’d never felt pitiful in my life—until I’d come to that world.
“Wenda, I am neither frightened nor sickened,” he said as soon as he’d forced me to stop struggling. “Nor, I think, was your l’lenda taken so. It is clear you feel ahresta due to his decision to unband you yet it is patently untrue that you are unwanted and kept only out of pity. That he punished you for touching him with your mind is to be expected, for I would do the same. I believe there is more to your upset than that which you have spoken of, and it is this which must be reached before your pain may be eased. Speak now of that which truly disturbs you. ”
I dragged my head up to stare at him, not believing how cold-blooded he could be about the whole thing. His mind was calm and totally under his control, completely untouched by the maelstrom in mine.
“Why do you continually defend him?” I demanded, ignoring the question he’d asked. “Why must every being upon this world defend his doings with me?”
“I do not defend him.” Dallan shrugged, reaching up to smooth the hair out of my eyes. “I merely point out the truth of his actions, as any l’lenda is honor-bound to do. For what reason was the decision made to unband you?”
“I know not,” I said, lowering my head again. “He felt some portion of my upset, and was unable to bear it. To truly know the feelings of another is no pleasant thing, and yet—”
“And yet you had thought him strong enough to bear the burden,” Dallan finished when I didn’t. “Earlier you said he spoke of your happiness. Can it be not his strength but yours which concerned him? Might his thoughts not be solely for you?”
“I care not for whom his thoughts are,” I muttered, still looking down at my hands. “That he speaks of my happiness does not mean it concerns him. Little concerns him save his own beliefs. ”
“How is this?” Dallan asked, putting his hand under my chin to raise my face to him again. “What was done that gives you such a belief?” When I simply stared at him without answering, he briefly returned the stare then said, “Perhaps you feel so because of the punishment given you. Were you never taught that punishment is given for your benefit, not the benefit of others’? That a l’lenda bothers to give you punishment is an indication of his concern for you.”
I unhooked my chin from his hand and turned my face away, sick to death of their concept of concern. If that was the way they cared, I didn’t want to be cared about ever again.
“I hear no protests, therefore must there be more to the matter,” Dallan decided, his voice thoughtful as his mind poked and pried at the question. “You spoke of the joy your l’lenda finds in beating you, and also seemed strange when I spoke of strapping you. Even now I feel you stiffening between my hands. Can it be that he lost himself to anger when punishing you? Can it be that he gave you true pain rather than the sting of a lesson properly taught.?”
I could feel the stupid tears coming to my eyes, remembering how he had hurt me over a lie. It would have been bad enough if I’d been guilty, but all that over a lie! He hadn’t believed me when I’d said I was innocent, he hadn’t wanted to believe me. It would have made his code of behavior too complicated if he had to decide between truth and lie, so he hadn’t bothered. He had just hurt me and walked away, unconcerned with what he had done because he knew he could always apologize later. It must have annoyed him when his apology wasn’t accepted as it always had been in the past, it must have annoyed him like hell. A pity I wasn’t there for him to beat again when the annoyance got to be too much. Dallan’s finger came to my cheek to wipe at the wetness there, and then he had gathered me tightly to him, to cry if I had to. I did have to, but there was nothing left to cry over.
Dallan held me for a number of minutes in silence, but when he let me go it wasn’t simply to let me sit beside him again. He rose to his feet, walked to where he had left his swordbelt, got something from it, then came back.
“It was my intention to wait until another time before seeing to this,” he said, sitting back down next to me among the cushions. “I have, however, been given reason to change my mind. It disturbs me to see the pain you carry, lovely wenda, and perhaps this will remove a portion of it.”
I watched without understanding as he reached to my right wrist and opened the band there, then went on to the other three.
When all four bands were off he gathered them together and put them aside, then reached behind him. Only when I saw the new set of gleaming bronze bands did I understand, and the enlightenment was no blessing.
“Dallan, you cannot band me,” I protested, trying to inch back away from him. “You know I mean to return to my people, therefore is it foolishness to . . . .”
“To make the effort,” he interrupted, nodding absently as he grabbed my ankle and pulled me easily back to him. “You mean to return to your people and have ever done as you meant, therefore is it foolishness to go counter to your wishes. There are few among your people who go counter to your wishes, are there not, wenda?”
He glanced up as he closed the new band around my ankle, then turned his attention to my second ankle. His mind was pleased but calm, unannoyed in spite of the way he’d spoken to me. If anything he was amused, probably over the fact that some men let their women run their own lives. I kicked at him with the leg that was already banded, found myself totally ignored, then put my arms behind me when he reached for one of my wrists.
“You are no different from any of the others!” I spat, twisting away as he reached for my arm. “You speak gallantly of easing my pain, then proceed to put me in your bands despite my unwillingness! How mighty and courageous are the l’lendaa of Rimilia, to stand themselves firm against the begging of their wendaa! ”
“All men require courage and might when dealing with wendaa,” he laughed, his light eyes sparkling with amusement. “As to begging, that is heard from one such as you. Do you wish to beg me to unband you, little bird?”
“Would you do so?” I pounced immediately, willing to consider humiliating myself if it meant being free.
“I would not,” he laughed, capturing my nose with two fingers, then immediately grabbing my wrist when I tried to push his hand away. “My desire is for the warmth of a wenda, not the scrapings and mewlings of a slave. You may indeed soon find yourself begging, little bird, yet not for freedom.”
I beat at him with my fists while he put the wrist bands on, but all he did was continue to ignore me. He had pushed me flat onto the fur carpeting among the cushions and had knelt across me, making sure that beating at him was all I could do. That silly scrap of silk I was wearing was twisted all about, but that made no difference at all; as well as it covered me, it might as well have been gone entirely. When the band had snapped closed around my second wrist he suddenly looked down into my face, the smile he wore and the growling hum in his mind forcing me still. I knew that sense of possession he radiated; I had cause to know it well. It made me swallow hard and try to shrink down and away, but he just laughed and stopped me by leaning lower.
“You will not fly from me, little bird,” he said, grinning at the expression on my face. “I will complete the rite of five-banding, and then you will be mine.”
“Rite?” I quavered, wondering why I always had to be such a coward with these men of Rimilia. “What rite do you speak of?”
“It does not surprise me that you know nothing of the rite.” He smiled, putting his hands on the carpeting to either side of me and leaning even closer. “It is all one with the balance of what has been done. Suffice it to say that it pleases me to be first.”