The sound at my door took a couple of minutes to penetrate my awareness, and when I finally looked up Dallan and the barbarian were already inside, Tammad closing the door behind both of them. Neither one would have taken any prizes in a perfect—physical—health contest, but Dallan was more clearly marked by the trail of the lash. They both seemed to have already begun healing, but they couldn’t have been free of pain yet. I stirred in the bed furs, vaguely wondering why they had come, somehow unsurprised to see that they both wore their swords. They may have been half beaten to death, but if they were going to move around, they’d do it armed.
“Wenda, how do you fare?” Dallan asked, his eyes concerned as he moved forward ahead of Tammad. “My father tells us that you seem recovered now, yet could not at first recall what had befallen us. Are you disturbed in any manner? Do you feel pain’?”
“I feel no more than a faint headache,” I answered, looking down and away from them. “You need not have taken the bother to come here.”
“It was no bother, memabra,” Dallan said, his voice warm and reassuring. “May we seat ourselves among your cushions? There are things which must be spoken of among us.”
I heard them moving across the carpeting to the nest of cushions without waiting for an answer from me, showing the question had been pure formality. They didn’t need my approval to do anything, and they never would. In a world of cataclysmic changes, that would never change.
“Terril, as you wear my bands, I must be the one to speak first to you,” Dallan said when he and Tammad were settled on the carpet. “I have learned a thing from the dreams sent me in the resting place of the Sword, and painful though it is, I must tell you of it.”
I looked over at him where he sat just a few feet away, seeing both discomfort and determination in his light eyes. He appeared to be holding himself straight with difficulty, and fleetingly I wished I could ease his pain. He was determined to say what he had to say no matter how much he hurt, and if I couldn’t help him, the least I could do was let him get it said without interruption.
“The dream sent me was scarcely one of pleasure,” he continued, looking away briefly before forcing himself back into eye contact with me. “In it I was a man of great power and wealth, a l’lenda without equal, surrounded by lovely wendaa without number. These wendaa were mine for the taking, and yet though I used them as I willed, I felt myself deeply drawn to none of them. Much time passed in this way, giving me nothing for the nothing I, myself, gave, and then I came upon another wenda, one who was not mine. This wenda was lovely and desirable, wilful and the possessor of a great power, yet above all that she was filled with a vast unhappiness. I found myself touched by her unhappiness and able to soothe it to some degree, and from this I derived even greater pleasure than her body brought me. The concern I felt for her was deep, as deep as the concern I would have felt for the sister I had never had, yet I saw this concern as love and desire for possession, refusing to admit even to myself even what I felt was scarcely to be considered as love. When one who truly loved her came seeking her, I sneeringly refused her to him, feeling much the man by doing so. I perceived it as keeping her from greater unhappiness, you see, and not as bringing greater satisfaction to myself. I concealed the truth from all by noble speeches, and also saw myself as noble. Never had I known before how low it is possible for a man to take himself with self-delusion.”
“You cannot blame yourself for pitying me,” I interrupted, almost feeling the air vibrate with the hurt inside him. “Finding pleasure in helping others gripped by unhappiness is no evil thing. It shows you as warm-hearted, Dallan, not callous and cold. It was not your intention to give me greater unhappiness by banding me, nor have I seen the doing in such a light. You need not berate yourself for having shown compassion.”
“It was not compassion which I thought to show,” he answered, still sounding upset. “In the dream I knew nothing of what I did till I found the wenda cold and unmoving, having wasted away from lack of the love she so cruelly had been kept from. It was impossible for me to make reparations for what I had done, and though I now know it for a dream, I feel the ache even to this moment. You must know that I mean to unhand you, memabra; in also knowing my reasons, you must strive to feel nothing of ahresta. ”
“Such a doing scarcely comes as a shock,” I sighed, leaning back against my cushions and closing my eyes. “You have my thanks for first speaking to me of your intentions.”
“Your unbanding is not my sole intention,” he said, for some reason sounding stronger. “Should I do such a thing and then merely turn my back upon you, the gesture would surely be as noble as my previous actions. It has long since come to me that much of your unhappiness stems from a lack of understanding between you and your chosen, therefore shall I stand as true brother to you and speak of your hurt to him for you. Should you find it possible to speak for yourself, do not hesitate to do so; I shall remain to assist you solely where you lack the strength.”
“I lack the strength for another confrontation,” I said, feeling a twinge over the decision I hadn’t known I’d made. “I have no chosen nor shall I ever have one, therefore would you be wise to return to your rest. You do no more here than merely waste your strength. ”
“Have you taken to speaking lies, wenda?” he demanded with a snort, his voice now sounding annoyed. “Though in the grip of great pain, my observations of the doings in the chamber of the Sword came with unexpected clarity. Well do I recall that you offered yourself in place of Tammad and myself, and well do I recall the pain you were given for having made the offer. Also do I recall the point at which you challenged and engaged the intruder, which was neither when you were given pain, nor when I was done so. It was the safety and well-being of your chosen which drove you, a truth you cannot deny.”
In my memory I was suddenly back in that cave, not doing battle with that monster but being hurt by him. My mind had been looking for a way to divert my attention from what Dallan was saying, but the way it found made me sick to my stomach and ashamed. All the things I hadn’t felt earlier came rolling over me, so strongly that I threw myself under the covering fur with a sob, pulled it over my head, then held my hands over my ears. Even the Hamarda, who had held me and used me as a slave, had been seeking normal pleasure; it was only a monster who would use his body to give pain, a twisted monster incapable of feeling normal pleasure. He had used me only to hurt me, and what was infinitely worse, he had done it in front of him. There were no tears to soothe a feeling like that, nothing but shame unending.