“Sadendra, I do believe,” he said very softly, opening his arms so that I might crawl into them. “There are many things we must teach one another, to be sure that doubt will never touch our belief again. I would have you begin with your feelings concerning host-use, so that I might know at last the reason you dislike it so. Ever did I believe that you refused as a disobedience, intending me and my brothers insult. To learn that I was mistaken has given me pause.”
I lay carefully in his arms, trying not to touch his wounds, and forced myself to come out from the dark corner I was so used to hiding in. It was difficult explaining why I wanted to belong only to him, and he had just as much difficulty explaining why the more he loved me, the more he wanted to share me with his closest brothers. We both agreed to think about the other’s point of view before discussing the topic again, and then he held me very close despite his wounds, in memory of what the darkhaired intruder had done to me. The sort of rape I’d been subjected to wasn’t considered a sexual act by Rimilians, I learned. It was considered assault of the worst sort, and any woman who could kill a man who did such a thing was praised and regarded highly by all who heard of it. The way Tammad spoke, it was just as though he thought of me as having been cruelly and badly beaten, with no shame attached to the occurrence, nothing but sympathy and consolation coming from him. I remembered then that he and his people didn’t believe it possible for a woman to keep herself from being used, and some of the lingering hurt and shame did go away. Not all of it, and not all of the memory either, but enough of it to take the terrible edge away.
We talked for hours as I lay in his arms, and not once in all that time did he make a single sexual overture. I was sure he was hurting too much to change our association from verbal to physical, and the thought disturbed me enough so that I didn’t mention it. I didn’t want him trying something out of a sense of duty, and thereby hurting himself all the more. When my next meal was brought there was enough for two, and I insisted on feeding the barbarian the way I’d been fed earlier by the woman. He lay propped up on cushions, taking whatever I gave him, and it’s hard to say when I last felt the sort of pleasure I got from performing that silly little act. He kept his eyes on me the entire time, silent appreciation in his stare, making me glad I wore nothing that would interfere with what he wanted to see. When the meal was done we lay down together again, the emptied tray still standing where the woman in white had left it.
When the door opened a few minutes later, I thought it was the woman returning for the tray, not realizing my mistake until I heard a chuckling behind me. It was a male voice chuckling, which immediately started me diving for the cover fur, but Tammad and I were lying on it. I tugged futilely at the cover, not missing the fact that the barbarian wasn’t moving at all, and the chuckling turned into out and out laughter.
“Do you mean to hide yourself from me, wenda, the man who has banded you?” Dallan’s voice came, his amusement so obvious it set my teeth on edge. “You must sit as you are and allow me to look upon you, for it is my wish that you do so.”
“I will be pleased to accord you your wish, if you will also accord me mine,” I answered sweetly, turning about to look at him where he stood, about two feet from the bed furs. “Shall I tell you the pertinent points of my wish?”
“Do you retrain from insolence, wenda,” the barbarian commanded mildly, adding a tug on my hair. “A man has the right to obedience from her whom he has banded.”
“And yet he means to unband me, does he not?” I pounced, seeing that Dallan was still amused. “As I am not permanently banded by him, a partial insolence should be acceptable.”
“Yet only with a partial obedience,” Dallan put in, still grinning. “First the obedience, and only then the insolence. And perhaps it will be my decision not to unband you after all. You are, in final thought, a desirable wenda, one a man may easily come to love. It may well be my decision to retain you in my hands.”
“Should such an event come to pass, it will then be necessary for the drin and myself to again face one another,” the barbarian put in while I frowned at an all-too-serious Dallan. “As you are no longer able to interfere in the matter, we will this time find a satisfactory ending to the affair, one which will satisfy honor rather than the stubbornness of a sharp-tongued wenda. Once again the choice has become one for l’lendaa.”
I sat on the bed with what must have been a dumbfounded expression, looking from one unsmiling Rimilian face to the other. I’d forgotten all about the fight they’d almost had, forgotten all about the fact that I still technically belonged to Dallan. If they ever decided to fight again, there was nothing I could do about it, not even threaten to let myself die with the loser. I was not only absolutely helpless, I couldn’t even think of anything to say.
“I hear no more than a commendable silence, wenda,” Dallan said, and I couldn’t help but notice that he also looked stronger than he had earlier. “Are you no longer interested in being accorded your wish?”
I opened my mouth to answer him, meaning to say something flip about now being willing to pass on my turn at wishing, when I finally got the point they were making. It was my big mouth that had started the trouble, just as it usually did, and if I didn’t learn to think before speaking, the next time I might start something I would not be able to stop. It was one thing to joke with a man in the privacy of his furs or mine, quite another to embarrass him, even mildly, in front of others. Courtesy given is courtesy asked for, and I knew well enough what I’d been asking for.
“I ask your pardon, memabrak,” I said in a very small voice with my head down, addressing him properly as the man who had banded me. “I should not have spoken to you as I did, for the matter is truly one between l’lendaa, and I am not l’lenda. Please excuse my having intruded in so mannerless a way.”
“Excellent, wenda, truly excellent,” Dallan said, warm approval now in his voice. “To see one’s error is the necessary preliminary step to correcting that error. You may now kneel at the foot of your furs the while the denday Tammad and I converse. ”
I raised my head quickly to look at him, and his eyes said that he wasn’t simply having fun with me. I was being punished for the way I’d acted, and the worst part was that I was now sure I would have had to do nothing of the sort if I’d answered him at first with courtesy. I moved to the end of the bed furs and knelt there, filled with disgust, but the entire mass was aimed only at myself. I’d earned whatever I got, and had damned well better remember it for next time.
“You are truly lovely, memabra,” Dallan said, moving forward the two feet to stand directly in front of me. “You may retain your arms at your sides, yet do I wish to see your head held higher. You are, after all, considerably more than a slave.”
His hands came to my face, raising my chin high, and then he turned and walked to the cushions scattered on the carpeting, lowering himself with less than his usual grace despite the ease of his stride. He and Tammad began talking then, about the weather—which was clearing—about the intruder in the mountain—for whom they both continued to hold a blood-grudge—and about wendaa. It didn’t take them long to get around to discussing me and although I knew they were only talking to waste time, I still ended up blushing vividly. I’d probably never get used to having normally private topics and subjects discussed so frankly and baldly in front of me, and there was nothing else I could do other than blush. It went on so long I was sure I’d suffer a permanent skin color change, and then the subject was abruptly changed.