“Father, you need not go far.” Dallan grinned, holding one hand up to calm Rellis’ anger. “Aesnil and Terril fled Grelana together, and were brought here by l’lendaa of Gerleth who thought them wendaa of our land. I have returned to Aesnil the courtesy given in her house, and have declared her slave. She now labors at whatever tasks were given her, and strives to avoid the straps of those in whose charge she stands. You may remonstrate with her whenever you please, merely by summoning her from the kitchens or wherever it is she serves.”
“A fate undoubtedly well earned by her.” Rellis said, losing a good deal of his anger. “Your mother, had she lived, would have been greatly upset to learn of such doings from the daughter of her sister. I will speak with the girl later, after she has had an appropriate amount of punishment, and then decide when she will be returned to Grelana. A pity she has not yet been banded.”
“She has been banded,” Tammad put in, drawing Rellis’ eyes again. “Cinnan awaits without, anxious for her return yet unwilling to offer you insult by demanding it. Perhaps you would do well to discuss the matter with him.”
“I will be sure to do so.” Rellis nodded, leaning down among the cushions. “The question of Aesnil will be easily seen to, yet not so the matter which stands between yourself and Dallan. Is it possible it may be seen to by other means than a meeting of blades?”
“I came here solely with the intention of regaining my woman.” The barbarian shrugged deliberately keeping his eyes from Dallan. “Should it be possible to accomplish this end without the spilling of blood, so be it.”
“When I found her, the woman was four-banded,” Dallan said, also speaking only to Rellis. “I was well within my rights five-banding her, a decision I will stand with. The woman is banded as mine and will remain mine.”
“Clearly an impasse,” Rellis said with a sigh, then he turned his head to me. “It is easily seen why you both desire this woman, yet I have not seen her run weeping and begging to either of you. Is she convinced that one will easily best the other, or is she unsure which of you she wishes to belong to?”
“Neither,” I said before anyone could answer the question for me. “As it is the truth you seek, I shall give it to you. I wish to belong to neither of them.”
“For what reason do you feel so, wench?” Rellis asked gently, pretending he was unaware of the painful silence coming from the middle of the room. “Are you not aware of the desire these men feel for you, the love they wish to share with you?”
“Oh, I am more than aware of their desire,” I said, just short of a bitter laugh. “He who banded me first desires the use of my power in his designs and the use of my body in the furs. He who banded me second desires the end of the pity he feels for me in the bands of another, and the addition of my power as well as my body in his furs. The things they most wish to share with me are humiliation and pain, for those are the things I find most often at their hands. They both wish the use of my power, yet they also wish to deny me the use of it. I will no longer allow such a thing, therefore will I belong to neither of them.”
“Wenda, such a decision is not yours,” Rellis said, his voice still gentle to cover the pity he felt. “Surely your upset causes you to exaggerate what was done to you, for I am able to picture neither my son nor the denday Tammad giving unnecessary pain to a helpless woman. You must be. . . .”
“I am not helpless!” I interrupted with a shout, furiously throwing down the goblet I held. “Unrestrained I am not helpless at all, yet I seldom find myself unrestrained! The mighty l’lendaa of Rimilia fear me as greatly as those of my own world, seeking to bind me as tightly as they, offering punishment nearly as harsh! I will no longer allow myself to be restrained, and will fight for freedom, to the death if necessary!”
“There is much of the sound of l’lenda to you,” Rellis mused, for the most part deciding he’d better calm me down. “It is scarcely necessary for a wenda to fight to the death, most especially as she has no weapon to use. Best you allow us to see to this matter, for your happiness will be foremost in our minds as we contemplate our decision. I will have you taken to a room in which you may rest yourself . . . .”
“I will not be brushed aside that easily,” I interrupted again, my anger building. “If I have no weapon which may be used, I assume you have no objection to my using this nonexistent weapon on you?”
“Certainly not,” he agreed, annoyed but still willing to humor me. “You may use whatever weapon you . . . .”
“No!” Tammad and Dallan shouted together, both of them coming forward from the center of the room. They were feeling considerably more nervous than they looked, anticipating all sorts of calamities. They both should have known I was too tired and drained to do anything really spectacular, but their reaction was emotional rather than logical.
“I have had more than enough of interruptions!” Rellis snapped in irritation, jerking his head around to glare at Tammad and Dallan. “The girl flounders in self-delusion, and you aid her by supporting her foolishness! It is little wonder that she feels as she does, confused and unsure and deeply ahresta! You are each of you fully grown l’lendaa, and should know of the delicacy required in dealing with wendaa!”
I leaned back a little as he plowed on and on, refusing to let Dallan interrupt or explain, lecturing them on how men knew better when he was young, stressing how small and helpless and delicate women were. I know he thought he was defending me, but I’d been defended that way too often to be willing to swallow it again. I had his freely given permission to use my imaginary weapon on him, and although I used restraint, that’s exactly what I did.
Have you ever been the victim of a psychological itch? The condition usually manifests when you’re carrying two armfuls of packages with nowhere to put them down, or when you’re in the middle of a large group of people where it’s impossible to turn politely away. The itch is actually emotional rather that physical, a rebellion of your mind against the intolerable chaining of conditions and circumstances. It’s trigger is gross rather than subtle, otherwise I couldn’t have managed it just then. As Rellis continued on and on in his lecture, I was triggering that reaction in him, spreading it faster and more completely than it would have done on its own. He began by scratching absentmindedly first at his chest, then at his thigh, then at his neck; before a full five minutes had passed he was beginning to use two hands, and that was when he became consciously aware of what he was going through. He broke off in the middle of a sentence, and looked down at himself.
“By the Sword of Gerleth, what occurs here?” he demanded, watching as his hands scratched everywhere, embarrassingly even down into his haddin. He was beyond being able to control the sensations, and felt as though he were infested with tiny vermin. The strength of imagination is such that he could feel tiny feet walking on him even if he couldn’t see them.
“Father, I feel sure you suffer from self-delusion,” Dallan said, his expression uninflected despite the chuckling in his mind. “I cannot pretend I understand the method used, yet Terril was invited by you to exercise her power. It seems she has.”
“The wenda?” Rellis said with incredulity, then turned his head to look at me. Although I was scarcely straining, I could feel the beads of sweat on my forehead from my expending the the last of my strength. It was hard, damned hard, but I wasn’t about to ease up until he cried uncle.
“It cannot be,” Rellis muttered, still scratching like mad. “No being is able to do this to another, invisibly and from a distance! It is madness! It is—Enough, wenda! I am no longer able to bear it! Enough!”
As soon as he admitted defeat I let go, both to show him that his suffering really had been my doing, and to stop voluntarily before I was forced to stop. I hadn’t been able to build up my mental muscles very far, and the limitations I worked under were painful as well as frustrating. Rellis’ scratching slowed immediately, quickly petering out to nothing, and he slumped to the cushions with a sigh.