“Calmly, my friend, calmly,” Dallan said as Tammad’s hand left my shoulder. “You take the blame for all that has gone before on your own head, and yet the woman is not blameless. How great must be her pride, to keep her from speaking of so pressing a matter! Had she truly wished to speak with you, would you have refused to listen?”
“No,” came the answer along with a very deep breath. “Had she truly attempted to speak with me, I would not have turned away from her.”
“And you, wenda,” Dallan said, switching victims. “How often have you spoken to this man of that which disturbed you? Have you ever spoken of how you truly felt?”
“Sure,” I muttered, lowering my head as far as it would go. “Why the hell do you think I did all those terrible things to all those poor people? For the fun of it?”
“A communication I allowed anger to keep me from deciphering,” the barbarian said before Dallan could ask for a translation. “And yet, how else was I to react, save with anger? Do you think me possessed of a power similar to yours, woman?”
“You always understand how everyone else feels,” I whispered, trying not to let the dampness seep out of my eyes. “Why is it so impossible for you to do the same with me? Even a seetar sometimes gets a pat of appreciation around the reins of ownership. ”
“There is little to understanding the needs of others, hama,” he said very gently, his hand coming to stroke my hair. “Where a man sees love, his vision is often blurred, and if not blurred, then distorted. For a man to see his love clearly, she must stand very still for a time; this you have never done for me.”
I turned my head and opened my eyes to look at him through a different kind of blurring, seeing the strength in his broad face and light eyes. I was now willing to believe I hadn’t stood still long enough to really understand his thinking, but the revelation had come too late. He was trying to waken something that had died without his knowing it.
“Standing still during beatings isn’t one of my many abilities,” I said, managing to come up with a small shrug. “I don’t recall much else between us lately.”
“You come so close, then quickly back away,” he said, his light eyes showing again the calm that was so much a part of him. “Is it fear or cowardice which moves you so, hama? Do you keep your inner self so far from me by design, or are you merely unable to share with others that which you so often have from them? It is my fondest desire to listen with understanding to any words you speak; for what reason do you refuse to speak them?”
I stared at him for a minute, almost tempted beyond bearing, but even considering the idea was useless. It was both cowardice and fear that had kept me from speaking to him before that; from that point on, there would be nothing to talk about.
“Somehow, I think you’ll be too busy from now on to listen to anything coming from me,” I said, unable to look away from him. “You see, the reason that that intruder died was because he was linked directly to my mind when the thunderstorm broke through the barrier I had raised against it. I didn’t die—or at least not all of me. Only the part you so quaintly call my ‘power.’ I no longer have that power—and never will again.”
The shock in Tammad’s eyes was too visible to be missed, not even by Dallan, who had been sitting back out of the way of the conversation he hadn’t understood. He stirred where he had remained among the cushions, then leaned forward.
“Tammad, what has happened?” he demanded, his voice sharper than it had been in some minutes. “What has she said to you?”
“She has informed me that her power is no more,” the barbarian answered, his tone reaching for calm—and not making it. “The strength of that storm has taken it from her as it took the life of the intruder. Hama, were you injured in any other manner? How strong is the pain you feel? I will send for Lenham immediately so that he may search for damage you may not be aware of.”
He began getting to his feet from where he’d been sitting on the bed furs near me, determination tightening his jaw, and I didn’t understand what he was doing. Was he hurrying away in supposed concern, only so that he could be away, to begin work again on more important matters? Why hadn’t he simply walked out?
“You can send for Len if you like, but there’s nothing he can do,” I said, watching the barbarian’s distraction. “There’s nothing anyone can do. I’ve been burned out by overload, and the circuit can’t be replaced.”
“I will know if there is any other damage,” he maintained stubbornly, moving those outrageous blue eyes to me. “And you will speak only in this tongue, the Rimilian tongue, so that the drin Dallan may understand you. Speaking to me in your own tongue with another present is a great rudeness.”
I glanced at Dallan, seeing how patiently he sat in the face of what really was rudeness, but felt too confused to apologize.
“I will speak in any tongue you wish,” I said to the barbarian in Rimilian, letting my hand go to my still-aching head. “I will also listen in any tongue you wish; I ask only that you explain what you are about. Of what concern can any other damage possibly be? I am now a cripple, even more useless than before, no longer fit to be a pawn in the machinations of men. I find the state filled with an unexpected peace and lack of regret, yet not all will find it so. For what reason do you continue to flurry about me?”
“Perhaps the reason is our concern for you,” Dallan said as Tammad frowned. “Have you forgotten that your current state—far from useless—has come about due to your efforts on our behalf? Are you able to believe we would now abandon you?”
“Ah, you feel gratitude.” I nodded, then put my head back and closed my eyes. “I had failed to consider the presence of gratitude. My questions have now been answered.”
I was telling myself that disappointment was a stupid thing to feel under the circumstances, when I heard a sound next to me on the bed furs, as though someone had sat down. It didn’t mean much until a hand touched my face, and I opened my eyes to see Tammad less than a foot away.
“Should you believe that it is gratitude which fills me, wenda, you are greatly mistaken,” he said, his eyes hard and his voice tight with an unexplained anger. “A man may feel gratitude for assistance given him, yet he is able to feel no other thing than anger when his wenda places herself in danger and comes to harm by cause of that assistance. Once were you told that sooner would I see this l’lenda harmed than you, yet the lesson taught at the time was clearly not remembered. When your strength and health have been regained, I shall teach it again.”
“But—but—I do not understand!” I stumbled, uncontrollably lowering myself farther under the cover fur. “You cannot have further interest in me, for I am no longer of use to you! With the absence of my power, I will be of interest to no one!”
I know I expected an increase in his anger, but suddenly his beautiful blue eyes were filled with sadness.
“Ah, wenda! How great must have been the pain you were given,” he said with a sigh, wrapping one of his great hands around my fist on the cover fur. “To be taught that your only value lay in the power you possessed, to be taught distrust of those about you—I, too, am guilty in part of such a doing, yet are your former people more guilty by far. It will give me great pleasure to drive them to their knees for having done such a thing to my woman.”
“Your woman?” I echoed, my head swirling with confusion as well as throbbing. “You cannot mean to keep me as your woman?”
“I mean exactly that,” he said, staring at me steadily. “Despite your penchant for disobedience, despite the sharpness of your tongue and your untalented ways about a cooking fire, despite your vast and unconcealed reluctance—you are mine and shall remain mine forever.”
“Reluctance,” I whispered, reaching out with my free left hand to touch him with the very tips of my fingers. “My reluctance for breathing is greater. I cannot understand your desire for a cripple—and have not the courage required to believe in it.”