“You need not believe in it.” He shrugged, and the ghost of a grin was on his face. “I shall no longer spend breath attempting to persuade you; I shall merely continue to keep you beside me, and shall ask of belief only at the end of our lives. Should you fail to have belief in me then, I shall beat you.”
I wanted to laugh at what he’d said, but instead I cried like a weepy infant. Dallan laughed, and so did Tammad, but all I could do was cry. Tammad moved closer and put his arm around me, and it was all I could do not to hurt him in a vise-grip. I wanted to crush him to me with all my strength, and for the first time understood about those episodes where he’d hurt me without meaning to. The urge was just short of compulsion level, a purely emotional reaction to the non-thinking of a mind filled with confusion. His unexpected decision hadn’t solved all of my problems, but without the worry of the worst one, the others seemed more likely to be taken care of at another time. I was too tired to cry for very long-even happy-crying is draining—and Tammad understood immediately how I felt.
“You are weary and now must take your rest again,” he said, gently disengaging my arm from around him. “You must sleep and eat and regain your strength, and then we will talk again. The drin Dallan, I believe, also requires further rest, and we keep him from it.”
“Indeed,” Dallan agreed, beginning to force himself to his feet among the cushions. “I have indeed been too long from my furs, and the healer will not be pleased. This healer has known me from the time of my boyhood, and refuses to accept my being l’lenda when I am in her care. Perhaps she is correct.”
“I will return when you have taken your rest,” Tammad said, touching my face a final time before rising from the bed furs. Neither he nor Dallan were moving as well as they usually did, which said they needed rest at least as much as I. I kept silent as they took themselves from the room, letting them go even when there was so much left to say, then closed my eyes with a deep sigh. I intended doing a lot of thinking about what has just happened, but instead fell asleep.
When I awoke there was another tray waiting for me in the care of the white-dressed woman, and with her help I ate most of what was on it. My head was still hurting faintly—something I was almost getting used to—and I was gently but firmly refused when I spoke about getting up. Every l’lenda on the planet seemed to have left orders about how well I was to be taken care of, and the woman seemed to know without asking that my head still hurt. I tried telling her how bored I was, and got laughed at for pretending to be a l’lenda. L’lendaa were the ones who complained about being kept idle in the furs when there were so many other things to be done; wendaa were wiser, and were well able to appreciate the worth of uninterrupted rest. I can’t say I agreed with the viewpoint, but arguing wouldn’t have gotten me very far. The woman wasn’t only convinced she was right; she was also determined to do things her way whether she was right or wrong. I watched her take the tray and leave, then spent a couple of minutes wondering what I was supposed to do to keep from going crazy.
The question was answered for me in a very direct way; as if on cue the door opened again, and Tammad came in. He looked slightly less well used than he had earlier, and he smiled as he came toward me.
“Your rest appears to have taken the weariness from you, hama,” he said. “I, too, have rested, after having sent for Lenham. My worry will find no similar rest till he has pronounced you unhurt.”
“I have nothing more than a headache,” I said, returning his smile as I watched him sit down on the bed furs near me. “Compared to the shape I’m usually in on this world, that’s tantamount to being in the best of health.”
“You seek to ease my worry,” he said, his eyes bright with amusement as he reached a hand out to stroke my hair. “Perhaps I should reply that now that my worry is eased, I may think about no more than when I may beat you.”
“I think I feel a relapse coming on,” I said, trying to groan hollowly but laughing instead. “I must have looked very foolish back then, trying to make you believe I didn’t care if you beat me. I’m too much of a coward not to care.”
“It is scarcely cowardice to fear punishment at the hands of one who is larger and stronger than yourself,” he said, settling himself into a one-elbow leaning position toward the foot of the bed. “Only one who is insane—or bereft of all hope—will do such a thing. Do you truly feel no sadness at the loss of your powers?”
“I can’t say I don’t feel—empty,” I admitted, wishing he hadn’t brought up the subject, but determined not to avoid it. “I’ve been an empath all my life, and it’s on a par with an untalented person losing his or her eyesight. But I am glad I can’t be a pawn any longer, that there won’t be people chasing after me for what I can do any more. What I’d like to know is how you really feel about it. Even if you keep me a thousand years, you’ll never have an empath in your furs again.”
“Were it possible to feel joy at another’s grievous loss, hama, joy is the sole thing I would feel,” he said, putting his hand on my leg through the cover fur. “Though I found great pleasure through the presence of a woman with the power in my furs, I shall find greater pleasure in her presence without the power. I am no more than l’lenda, ill-equipped for coping with your power. I may face all manner of danger with a sword, yet am I unable to face one small wenda with the power with equal unconcern. Such a wenda most often seemed beyond me; though I grieve for your loss, I joy in knowing you are no longer beyond me. ”
“I was never beyond you,” I answered softly, leaning forward to touch his hand. “I was just so lost in the hurt of uncertainty and not being wanted for myself that you couldn’t find me. I didn’t let anyone find me, and then I blamed them for wanting the only party they could find. Why didn’t you ever perform the rite of five-banding?”
“Hama, it was not possible,” he said, appearing momentarily startled at the abrupt question. “For a man to perform the rite of five-banding, his wenda must be fully willing and eager to wear his bands. It is possible to force willingness upon a woman by using the needs of her body, yet this course of action was unacceptable to me. I had no wish to force a willingness which did not come of its own.”
“Somehow, I knew all along it was my fault,” I sighed, leaning back again against the cushions. “There are so many things I don’t know about this world, and your people, and you. How could I believe I knew all there was to know just because I read a report? I’m not only foolish, I’m stupid.”
“Merely ignorant,” he corrected with a chuckle, patting my leg. “Happily, the ignorant may be taught whereas the stupid may not. I have attempted to teach your ignorance, and shall continue to do so till it is no more. In time you will be as civilized and knowledgeable as my people and myself.”
“You’d best watch those insults, l’lenda,” I said, looking at him darkly. “You’re not over being hurt yet, which means I just might have a chance against you. Would you like to have it said that you were beaten by a wenda?”
“No, l’lenda-hama, I would not care to have it said that I was beaten by a wenda,” he laughed, true delight filling his eyes. “I offer my apologies for having given you insult, and shall take care that the same does not occur again.”
“Apology accepted,” I grinned, then began climbing out from under the cover fur toward him. “To tell the truth, I’m greatly relieved to have your apology. To beat you would mean to give you more pain—and I would rather die than give you pain. You are not my hamak, you are my sadendrak, the one who brings life to me in all things. Life would hold no meaning for me beside another; this you must believe above all things.”