Mind Guest

by Sharon Green

A Diana Santee Spaceways Novel

Chapter 1

Waking up began as a struggle, the sort you strain against with all

your strength and get absolutely nowhere with. I strained and struggled

and found nothing but fog to fight, but by the time I reached the

groaning stage the fog was beginning to lift. I became aware of what I

entailed, then felt the hum that touched deeply but lightly in my

bones. I knew the hum should mean something, but I was still too deep

in the fog to know what.

It took a lot of effort to turn to my left side and open my eyes, and I

couldn't remember why the effort was necessary. All I saw was a small

room, plain metal walls, built-in drawers, and nothing else. All behind

a thin but unbreakable mesh of monostrand, the sort used m spaceships

to protect sleepers from the sudden loss of gravity.

Spaceship.

I had to be on a ship, but where was I going? Was the assignment

finished already? Assignment. What assignment? What the hell was going

on? I put a hand to my head as if that would stop the spasms going on

inside it, but there was still too much fog. Raising my arm seemed to

be a signal for the fog to close in again, and that turned the switch

off on my struggling.

The next time my eyes opened, the fog was all gone. I saw the top of

the bunk section, the monostrand safety net closing the only open side,

felt the throb that meant live but unfiring engines. I was in a ship,

all right, but this time I knew all about it. The assignment I'd been

so worried over even when I didn't remember anything about it hadn't

been finished, not unless you count getting grabbed as finishing it.

I'd walked right into Radman's waiting arms, just as if I were

responding to an invitation he'd sent out. I sat up carefully on the

bunk, trying not to bash my thick head on the metal above, disgusted

with myself and impatient with the dizziness the last of the drug

caused. Radman had used cryosol, and there was no knowing how long it

had kept me under.

I ran my hands through my tangled hair as I sat cross-legged, giving

myself a couple of minutes to take inventory before pressing on to the

harder job of getting out of the bunk. My entire body felt heavy and

without strength, probably a combination reaction from the drug and the

length of time I'd been unconscious, but I didn't hurt anymore. My

clothes were long gone, cut away at Radman's direction while he stood

and grinned and drooled, and naturally not replaced. He'd pretended to

be delighted that it was a female Special Agent who had been sent after

him, but his delight had switched to panic when one of his men had

gotten careless enough to let me almost get one leg free. 'There were

only five of them there besides Radman himself, and those aren't very

comfortable odds against a hyper-A. The nickname means High Percentage

Risk Agent and isn't handed out to every male with big muscles or every

female with a pretty smile. Radman had never heard the nickname, but he

didn't have to. He'd heard about Special Agents, and believed enough of

what he'd heard to be very, very careful.

I unhooked the monostrand mesh and swung my legs over the side of the

bunk, then stood up. I was feeling steadier than I thought I would, but

a couple of twinges flashed here and there, an unpleasant tail-end reminder of Radman's reaction to my "attempted escape." After I'd been

chained with no more than a single link's space between wrists and

ankles, Radman had spent some time kicking me around-literally.

Experience had probably taught him how much pain he could give without

actually breaking anything important, and he'd put that knowledge to

work. By the time he'd worked off the heavy sweat he'd felt at the

thought of my getting loose I was sure he'd cracked a couple of ribs at

the very least, but I'd been wrong. Nothing had scraped together inside

when a couple of Radman's men had carried me to a metal-framed cot and

had shifted the chains on me to create the ever-popular spread-eagled

look. Radman had gotten hot from the fun he'd had knocking' me around,

and wanted to spend some time working that off. I have a high pain

threshold, but happily not that high; it didn't take long before his

second-stage battering put me out. Which was a damned good thing. If

I'd still been conscious when it came time for him to let rip I would

have spit in his face, and I'd been in no shape to stand what would

have come from that little gesture.

The small cabin opened onto a somewhat larger common room, from which

it was possible to reach the rest of the ship. All the lights were set

at daylight normal, but I ignored the brightness in the common room the

way I had in the cabin and made my way to the tiny galley. I took a

long drink of water while the ship thawed and heated a synthegg

sandwich for me, then sat and ate it while a second was being done.

Cryosol slows your bodily processes while it keeps you unconscious, but

that just means you won't starve to death before you wake up. It

doesn't mean you can afford to forget to grab at least a quick bite

once you're up and around again, despite the fact that you're not

feeling very hungry. People have been known to die from the oversight,

and it would have been rude of me to die so quickly and thereby spoil

all of Radman's carefully laid plans.

When the second sandwich was ready I took it with me to the control

room. Radman had had a lot of fun telling me all about what he intended

doing, but even knowing what to expect didn't stop the flutter of panic

I felt at sight of all that red on the pilot's console. Most pilots

equate blinking red with the pumping of lifeblood out of a major

artery, and I was no different. It took an effort to keep from running

closer and quickly slapping switches, but since I knew how useless

slapping switches would be I could walk forward slowly until I stood

behind the pilot's chair.

The acceleration and deceleration switches had been cut off flush with

the console, giving the check-off computer hysterics, and the emergency

rocket toggle was also gone. The life-support system, meteor

deflectors, view screens and communicator were still on the green, but

that meant nothing. Radman had preset the view from the forward view

screen, and the location computer was running a continuous "no

information" blank tape, showing that I'd left human-inhabited space

long behind me. Just for the hell of it I checked the number of inches

of blank tape, multiplied by the standard rounded figure supplied in

the front of every ephemeris, then took a long, slow bite of my

sandwich. At the time of calculation I'd already been in an area of

space that would not be explored for a minimum of two hundred standard

years, with each second passing sending me farther and farther away.

I'd be able to watch where I was going, Radman had said, live

comfortably and eat well while I thought about ways of coming back, but

there'd be no coming back. By going after him I'd earned a free,

unending vacation trip, and he was going to see that I got what I'd

earned. I could still hear his heavy, brutal laughter as the cryosol was hype-sprayed into my bloodstream, and I looked down to see that I'd

unconsciously crushed the sandwich to slop in one hand. I turned and

left the control room then, and went to get a cup of coffee and another

sandwich.

I set up a loose schedule for living in the days that followed, but

still spent a lot of time reviewing and re-reviewing the moves I'd made

in going after Radman. I'd expected to see what I'd done wrong rather

quickly, but time passed and as far as I could see I hadn't done

anything wrong. Nothing I'd done would have told Radman I was coming

after him, but I'd still found him waiting for me. I usually had to go

heavy on the exercising after coming to that conclusion, even though I

knew intense rage was a waste of time and energy. The position I'd been

forced into wasn't contusive to sane calm and logical thinking.

I must have been about two months on my way to nowhere when I finally

decided I'd had enough of sitting around and doing nothing. Aside from

the fact that there wasn't much I could do, most of my hesitation had

come from that terrible human disease called wishful thinking. Being

fully adult and more realistic than most hadn't stopped me from hoping

that Starman Courageous and his loyal crew would somehow stumble across

me, save me from the fate worse than death that had been imposed on me,

and quickly return me to hearth and home. It took me that two months to

admit that I was the proud possessor of a fate worse than death, and

that Starman Courageous, every broad-shouldered and wide-chested inch

of him, was too busy saving slender helpless female types on tri-v to

show up. If anything was going to he done, I was the one who would have

to do it.

I took one last cigarette with my feet propped up, grabbed a quick

shower, then found an adjusting tool and headed for the c6ntrol room. I

knew almost nothing about transbar electronics, but I was faced with

the choice of tinkering and possibly killing myself fast, or leaving it

alone and continuing on until I went crazy. Being a loner I hadn't

found the two months totally unbearable, but two months wasn't two

years or twenty. If I didn't do something, I was sealed into what would

eventually become my tomb, and sitting around waiting for the

inevitable wasn't my usual style.

The controls had been damaged at the pilot's console, which is usually

a pretty permanent way of damaging them, but there was one remote

chance. The transbar leads were tucked away in a box of their own, and

if I could figure out which leads controlled what, I might be able to

bypass the console. Only I was not an electrical engineer. My talents

lie in other directions, and I've piloted many ships, but never had to

fix any of them. I opened the panel that covered the leads, groaned at

the nine million different colored wires, then took a deep breath and

got started.

I'd found the leads that controlled the shower, the lights, and a dozen

and a half unknown functions before it happened. I was tightening the

last lead I'd loosened when the adjusting tool slipped, knocking out a

lead in the unexplored section. The loose lead swung down and to the

left, 'toward the bottom contact, but fouled on another lead instead.

There was a spray of pretty blue sparks for about three seconds, then

silence. I wondered if I'd done anything serious, only to notice the

new flashing red light on the control console. I closed my eyes for a

minute then went to see what it was. It turned out to be nothing much -

the new blinking red light was for the life support system.

After I carefully tossed the adjusting tool away, I sat down in the

pilot's seat. I would have done better using spit and baling wire on

the control console, the way Starman Courageous would have, but it might have taken me another two standard months to kill myself with

spit and baling wire. Why waste the time?

Then my eyes fell on the forward viewscreen, and I stared hard. I

hadn't bothered checking it for weeks, but I should have taken a peek

before starting on the transbar leads - it would have saved some

trouble. The ship had blundered into the middle of a star system,

cutting across the orbital path of at least one of the planets. I could

tell this easily by the sight of the good-sized moon I was heading for,

but I couldn't tell by eye whether or not I'd hit it. My hand went

toward the computer outlet automatically, but I pulled it back before

asking for the data. If the ship was going to hit, it would hit. There

was nothing I could do about it one way or the other, and if I hit I

wouldn't have to worry about the new ringing in my ears. My tinkering

with the transbar leads had done something to the air pressure, and I

hadn't the faintest idea of how to undo it. I sat back in ~e seat and

simply watched the moon.

Six hours later, I was a lot closer to the moon and a lot closer to

upchucking. The on-again, off-again ringing in my ears was making me

dizzy and nauseated, but I stayed near the viewscreen to see what was

happening. Then, suddenly, the proximity alarm went off, almost sending

me straight up through the hull. Where the hell would another ship be

coming from way out there? Nothing showed in the forward viewscreen,

and I was about to activate the others when the ringing got deeper and

closer to my head. I hesitated a minute, trying to fight the lowering

air pressure, but it was no good. I didn't touch the transbar leads,

but the lights went out anyway.

Chapter 2

Waking up was downright luxurious. I was lying belly down and I

stretched in comfort and yawned, wondering why the bunk felt so soft,

then groaned when I realized it was probably a malfunction in the

gravity control. I buried my face in the softness, knowing damned well

that there was almost nothing I could do about it, then lay very still.

The gentle fragrance coming from what I was lying on was nothing like

the paper bed linen I'd used so long, and it was also nothing like

anything I'd ever encountered before. There was dark all around me, the

familiar dark I always slept in, but even in the dark there was

something different about my surroundings.

I moved my fingers over whatever it was I was lying on, getting the

impression of a soft and very rich-feeling fur. There was no pillow

under my face, just the fur, and stretching my arms out limited the

size of the fur whatever to little more than the width of a double bed

was closer to the edge on the right, so I hung my right arm over it and

found that the floor was no more than twelve inches below me - and also

covered with what felt like fur. None of what was happening made any

sense: was I dreaming or just plain crazy?

I shifted over onto my back, in the process making another unsettling

discovery. I knew I had no clothes on, but I'd had the impression that

I was covered with something like a light blanket. Now I could feel

there was a warmth on me, from shoulder height down to past my toes,

but the warmth wasn't coming from anything as banal as a cover. All at

once I began feeling annoyed, knowing damned well that by rights I

ought to be scared stiff, but the whole thing was too stupid to be

scary. When someone puts you in the dark to terrify you, they don't

give you fur to lie on, and they don't make sure you're snuggly warm. I

brushed my loose hair away from my face and made up my mind, then sat up slowly, holding one hand above my head to see if there was anything

over me.

As soon as I was sitting straight, there was no longer any need to hold

my hand up. A light had begun glowing from somewhere, starting very

faint and low, then brightening to a good level. I took a deep breath

and let it out slowly, fairly sure - or at least hoping - that there

was a photocell or some equivalent involved.

The room that had just come to view was no more than twelve by twelve,

having very few things in it. There was a small round metallic shape

next to the bed-couch I was lying on, an amorphous blob that might have

been a chair, and nothing else. I looked down at the bed-couch under

me, expecting to see fur, but saw nothing but cloth. Granted, it was a

silvery-gray cloth that looked better than any other cloth I'd ever

seen, but it was still just cloth. The couch-bed was a low platform, an

eight-foot by seven foot oblong, raised slightly at the end that was

against the wall, and seemingly upholstered. I shifted around a little,

noticing that the warmth I'd felt earlier was fading, then decided to

ask the major question: where the hell could I possibly be? It was

fairly obvious that the proximity alarm bad meant another ship, but

where had they come from, and who were they? And while I was listing

interesting questions, it would be smart to include, why? Someone had

gone to more than a little trouble intercepting my ship, had managed to

pull me out of it alive - and then had neatly tucked me into beddy-bye

before disappearing from view. I'm normally grateful for any help I get

in saving my neck, but I'd learned to be skeptical as well.

The warmth was entirely gone, so I put my feet out to the fur-cloth

floor and stood up, looking around again. The floor-fur was a deep

green, setting off the light salmon-colored wall panels, the panels

themselves being very plain. Each three-foot section of wall was

separated from the others by a panel line, and there must have been a

door there somewhere, but I couldn't spot it just then. I also saw no

window - which didn't mean there weren't any - but the far wall had

something square on it. I moved closer, trying to figure out what the

square might be. It was a light, slightly flickering gold in color, and

could have been anything from an observation screen or window to an

example of the art of tomorrow. I felt the urge to touch it, but pulled

back suddenly. I was old enough to know better than to touch strange,

unexplained objects; I'd had enough of waking up in odd places for a

while.

"I see you've taken it upon yourself to leave your bed," an annoyed

male voice said from behind me. "Are you sure you're feeling well

enough?"

The unexpectedness of the voice startled me, that and the fact it was

using an unknown language that I somehow understood perfectly. I turned

slowly and took the time to prepare myself for whatever might be

standing behind me, but the whole thing was a giant let-down. The only

thing standing behind me, well to the right, was a mild-looking little

man, round-cheeked and slightly pot-bellied, wearing a dark gold, onepiece

outfit that could have been a uniform. The outfit had patches

here and there, supporting the uniform theory, and the little man

wasn't looking at all pleased with me. The entire scene had a very

unreal quality to it, as if it would all turn out to be someone's idea

of a practical joke, but I dismissed that thought fast and smiled my

friendliest smile.

"How sweet of you to be concerned about me," I purred, moving a step or

two closer to him. "I'm feeling just fine now, and I'll bet I have you

to thank for it. I can see in your eyes that you're a very-special-sort of man.

His blue eyes didn't get any darker, but his chest swelled and his face

settled into a prissy look of satisfaction.

"I did very little more than see to your comfort, my dear," he said

smoothly. "And yet you may rest assured that had anything been

seriously wrong with you, I would have seen to it to the best of my

ability. We're rather isolated out here, but our medical facilities

can't be bettered anywhere."

I let my smile warm slightly, mainly to cover the fact that I was still

moving slowly toward him, and said, "I knew I was right about you, but

I'm just a little confused. You mentioned your medical facilities here,

but you didn't say where 'here' was. Can you tell me where I am?"

The satisfaction shifted to a frown, and the little man peered at me.

"This is an observation outpost of our Absari Confederacy," he answered

sharply. "The planet is called Tildor by its natives. Hadn't you any

idea you were in our neighborhood? The area happens to be proscribed."

I stopped where I was, about five feet from my visitor, determined not

to show how off balance I suddenly was. Not only hadn't I known that

the area was proscribed, I'd never even heard of proscribed areas, not

to mention something called the "Absari Confederacy." Things were back

to being unreal again, but there was one thing I knew for a rock-hard

fact: if my Federation had ever had contact with an Absari Confederacy,

I would have heard about it. My not having heard about them meant we'd

never contacted them, and I was back to wandering in the dark,

searching for a candle.

The little man was still watching me closely, so I decided to use some

of the confusion I felt to my own advantage.

"I must have gone farther astray than I thought," I breathed weakly,

putting my hand to my head. "I haven't the faintest idea of how I got

here."

"But, my dear girl, where were you going?" he asked, stepping closer to

me with professional concern. "And where did you start from? Surely no

one would have allowed someone with such meager knowledge of star

locations to travel about alone?"

We were no more than three feet apart, and that was just about right

for what I was going to have to do. He'd already asked three questions

I couldn't possibly answer, and I also couldn't afford to wait around

until those questions came from a more official source. I had to get

out of there as fast as possible, without leaving anyone behind who

could begin yelling before I was well out of reach.

I had stiffened the fingers of my right hand and was just lifting the

arm, when a section of the wall panel directly behind the little man

slid aside, showing a second male visitor. This one was a good deal

larger than the first, much taller and with much broader shoulders and

no pot-belly, wearing the same sort of one-piece uniform that the

little man wore, but his was a cobalt blue, with the patches in

different places. His dark eyes gave me a slow, frank stare of

appraisal, and he must have been pleased with what he saw-his rugged

face creased into a grin, and he stopped next to the little man, his

eyes still on me.

"How's our patient doing, Landren?" he asked in the sort of deep voice

one would expect. "Is she up to having visitors yet?"

The little man had glanced at the newcomer, but his attention was still

on me.

"She's still a bit shaky, Commander," he answered with what was

becoming a familiar frown. "But there seems to be something odd going

on here. You specifically told me she was alone, but why would such a helpless young woman be traveling alone? And another thing\a133"

"You're perfectly right, Landren," the man addressed as Commander

interrupted. "I'm sure there are many things to discuss, but this isn't

the time for it. The young lady and I are going to have a chat now, and

I'd appreciate it if you would have someone bring a tray of edibles to

us. You and I can have a talk later."

I stood casually where I was, making sure my muscles were relaxed in

spite of the fact that the bigger man hadn't taken his dark eyes off me

and now stood between me and my erstwhile target. The little man was

annoyed all over again, not knowing how close he had come to the end of

every annoyance, but there seemed to be little he could do. he nodded

once, angrily, and drew himself up.

"Very well, Commander," he grudged to the larger man's back. "We'll

discuss the matter later. And I'll speak to one of your team members

about the rest of it."

He looked at me with what was probably supposed to have been a smile,

bowed stiffly, then turned and walked out. The man who now stood and

studied me with folded arms and sharp, intelligent eyes was nothing

like the first man and would not be as easy to handle, but he would

still have to be handled one way or another. I'd done a lot of bluffing

in my professional life, but never in a situation where I didn't even

know what I was supposed to be bluffing about. The man's eyes kept

moving over me, as though he were looking for some sign of

embarrassment on my part due to the fact that he was dressed and I

wasn't, but he wasn't likely to find one. I'd been born and raised on

one of the only two nudist planets in the Federation, and standing

around raw had never bothered me. I looked away from the man, extended

my left arm for inspection, then rubbed at an invisible spot with a

small frown and a whole lot of concentration. I heard the sound of a

snort of amusement, then the big man shifted slightly where he stood.

"You're really very good, girl," he commented in that deep voice. "If I

didn't know better, I'd swear you were as innocent as you look."

The comment did nothing for my peace of mind, but I smiled at him with

polite interest.

"I don't understand, Commander," I said, putting just a touch of

confusion into my tone. "Am I supposed to be guilty of something?"

The question made the man smile again, then he laughed aloud.

"All right, I give up," he conceded with a chuckle. "I'd better stop

trying to shake that calm of yours before I push you into trying

something violent. I'll start off by telling you that I already know

you're not native to our Confederacy, so you can relax as far as that

goes. If you'll join me out on the terrace, we can both relax and

discuss the rest of it."

He stood not three feet away from me, grinning informally but in no way

off guard, and I didn't know what the hell to do. Insisting you know

something as a fact when all you do is suspect is such an old trick

that lots of people have forgotten about it. If he was telling the

truth, the fact that I wasn't in a jail cell was an encouraging sign,

but then I reminded myself that iron bars do not a prison make.

"I hate to seem dense, Commander, but I'm afraid I have very little

idea of what you're talking about," I drawled. "Suppose you add a few

details to what you've already said, and then maybe I'll be able to

hold up my end of the conversation."

He studied me again, then he nodded.

"Considering your position, I can't blame you for being cautious," he

conceded. "Maybe it would be better if we both knew what was

happening." he moved to his right, no more than five or six steps, then touched one of the salmon-colored wall panels. A thin, horizontal

section of the wall snapped out, knee height from the floor, and the

Commander sat himself down on it.

"All right, from the beginning," he said, leaning back against the wall

in his bench seat. "As soon as we looked at your ship, we knew you were

not from one of the member planets of the Confederacy. By 'we' I mean

my second in command and myself. he and I are the only ones who know

about you, which is why Landren was so confused."

He stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles, frowning slightly in

concentration. "The Absari Confederacy has known about your Federation

for some twenty standard years now, but the knowledge hasn't been

spread about. One of our scout ships netted a primitive rocket,

calculated the direction from which it had come, then backtracked on

it. When they began picking up communicator signals, they turned back

and reported to Absar Central, and we've been tip-toeing around the

edges of your volume of space ever since. We're nearly to the point of

introducing ourselves, but things like that take time." His eyes came

back to me, and the grin was starting again. "If I were going to

execute you as an undesirable alien, it would have been done by now, so

how about calling a truce and having something to eat with me? I'll

feel like a fool if I have to call a bodyguard before I can relax with

you in arm's reach."

This time I studied him and his grin, weighing my options. I could

trust him and take my chances or wipe him and take my chances, but

either way it would be a risk. The way he moved and held himself said a

lot about his ability, and the lack of fat on his well-muscled body

said he had very little need of a bodyguard. I would have backed my own

ability against his no matter what he knew, but even if I did best him

and then managed to find my way to a ship without running afoul of

anyone else, which way did I point the ship? Which quadrant had I come

in from? I took a strand of my hair to chew on, and the Commander's

grin widened. -

"You look as though you're having trouble making up your mind," he

observed, moving his back away from the wall to lean one elbow on a

broad thigh. "Suppose I add this as support for being reasonable: you

must have a lot of questions you'd like answered, and I'll be glad to

answer them - as well as fill you in on what you said when I questioned

you. You were unconscious at the time, so you're hardly likely to

remember it by yourself."

I continued to stare at him for a second, then smiled, as did he. he

was trying to bribe me with my own curiosity, and that made me feel

better about him. A man who understands bribery can't be all bad.

"All right, Commander, you've got me," I laughed, shaking my head at

him. "Curiosity always has been my fatal flaw, and I've got a question

that's been bothering me since that other man first opened his mouth. I

feel as though I'm speaking my own language, but what I'm speaking and

hearing isn't my own language. I mean, I'm pretty sure it isn't my own

language, even though I'm thinking in it, too. Does that make any

sense, or do I have a lump on the head to account for it?"

"You're perfectly all right," he chuckled, getting to his feet and

hiding the seat. "You had to have a language lesson before I could

question you, and there was no reason to take it back again once you

had it."

I could have spent a lot of time thinking about their methods of

teaching languages to people who were unconscious, but the Commander

had moved another two feet to his right and had put his hand on the

wall again. A panel popped open, revealing a footed jumpsuit, and he pulled it out then closed the panel again. The jumpsuit looked like the

uniform he was wearing - aside from being dark green in color and

having no patches - and it also looked like it might fit me.

"You'd better put this on," he said, tossing me the suit with what

looked like regret on his face. "We usually wear clothing of some sort

around here, and there's no sense in getting people curious."

As soon as I had the suit, he turned away from me and walked over to

that shimmering golden square on the wall. he brushed his fingers along

the upper right side of it, and I blinked as it began lengthening and

widening as though it were made of syngel. The former square kept

changing until it was about seven feet high and four feet wide, then he

seemed to be satisfied. It still shimmered goldenly, but now it was a

doorway, showing a hazy view of green skies and yellow sunshine above a

wide, carved wood balcony. The big man took time out from staring

through the doorway to glance at me, and I realized I'd just been

standing there holding the suit in my hand, so I began getting into it.

It didn't take more than a minute, which made the timing just right.

"Ah-here's the food," the big man observed, causing me to look around.

The panel door had slid aside again, and this time it was a really

oversized male who entered pushing a cart. he was bigger and wider -

and younger - than the Commander, with brown hair and eyes and a broad,

square face, and he wore the same uniform outfit, only in a deep red.

he pushed the cart - which had no wheels but some sort of runners -

through the golden haze and out onto the terrace, then came back

through the golden doorway without it. he nodded to Commander whoever,

sent a wink in my direction, then left again without a word. When the

panel had slid closed behind his broad back, I looked over toward the

Commander again and commented, "Now I know why that doorway is so high.

I'm glad to see he's friendly."

"That's Leandor, head of my special section," the Commander supplied,

looking toward the now empty doorway. "He must have heard about our

visitor and decided to get a look at her to break up the boredom.

Waiting on tables isn't what he was trained for."

"How about discussing what he was trained for," I suggested with a

bright smile. "As an easy lead-in to all those questions you're going

to answer for me."

"You sound as though you think I won't be answering any questions," he

said with an injured air of innocence. "You do have my word, you know,

and I consider my word a solemn oath. Let's take a look and see what

Leandor brought."

He headed out through the golden haze with a half-swallowed grin on his

face, leaving me no option but to ignore my annoyance and follow him.

It was pretty obvious he intended running our interview to suit

himself, and it didn't yet suit him to get down to cases.

As I passed through the golden haze, I felt a light tingling sensation,

the same sort of tingling you feel when moving through a light grade

force shield. Once I was through it, I noticed immediately that the

quality of the air was different. Inside the air was fresh and clean,

but fresh and clean in the way of having been laundered through a

recirculator; outside was the fresh and clean of true outdoors, with a

lot of that just-born feeling of recent rain. I took a deep, sweet

breath of it, knowing how lucky I was to be able to breath air like

that again, then looked around.

The green sky was early-afternoon light, lacking the too-bright glare

of morning. The yellow sunshine covered everything, and in some strange

way made the ten foot, carved wood balcony a very dark brown. The wood

gleamed as though it were polished, intricate designs following themselves around the entire area of it. Commander who-sis was busy at

the tray, so I walked to the thigh-high balcony rail, leaned one hand

on it, and looked over.

Below the balcony was miles of unoccupied air, falling away dizzily to

medium-sized foothills a long way down. If there was anything on the

ground far below I couldn't see it, but there didn't seem to be

anything anywhere - just miles and miles of emptiness. That first

little man had said we were in an outpost, and I wondered briefly what

sort of an outpost it could be.

I turned away from the balcony rail to see that the Commander had

transferred a number of thin, oblong dishes to a wide block of pure

white stone that was obviously going to be our table, so I left the

rail and joined him. There were matching white stone benches to sit on,

so I lowered myself and rested an elbow on the table.

"Question number one which requires a detailed response," I announced,

watching the big man as he paused over uncovering a dish to glance at

me. "What do I call you when I get tired of 'Commander'?"

The question was obviously an acceptable one, and the wary look faded

from his eyes as he bowed.

"I am Commander Arlent Selarn Delrah Garmar Rantal Queltes Dameron," he

answered, pronouncing the names slowly and distinctly. "Please call me

Dameron."

"That's what I get for asking for detail," I sighed, shaking my head.

"If you hadn't added that last, I might have gotten discouraged."

"I somehow doubt that," he laughed, seating himself on his own white

bench. "And what would you like to be called?"

"Now, why should you have to ask my name?" I mused, keeping my eyes on

him. "What about all that sleep talking I did?"

He smiled gently.

"I know that your name is," and suddenly his pronunciation became

foreign, " 'Special Agent of the Federation Council Diana Santee,' but

which of those names do you prefer being addressed by? We usually

choose the one we like best, no matter what position it holds in the

full tide."

"Our familiar names are usually chosen for us," I answered with an air

of faint disappointment. "My chosen name is Diana, and Diana had

thought she'd caught you in a little bit of fast foot-shuffling. I'll

just have to drown my sorrow at the mistake in some of that food which

smells so delicious."

"Best idea I've heard yet," he agreed with what was becoming a usual

grin, then started digging in. I went at it a little more cautiously,

but didn't find any hidden caches of camouflaged ptomaine. Everything

tasted as good as it smelled, which let me shift my eating to automatic

while my mind paid attention to thinking.

For some reason, it appeared I had given my name and rank in Basic

rather than in whatever I was speaking then. I didn't know enough about

the situation to even begin to guess why, but could only hope I also

hadn't gone into detail about my job. No matter what my position there

turned out to be, they would watch a non-combatant a lot less carefully

than they'd watch an experienced professional. And as large as I was,

the man who had named himself Dameron was larger still, and obviously a

fighting man. No matter what he had learned about me, it probably would

not be enough to make him call that bodyguard he'd joked about earlierand

therein lay another advantage for me. His eyes came to me as I

watched him chew, and I smiled in response to his smile, but we weren't

-smiling at the same thing.

After I'd eaten most of what had been put in front of me, I decided to get on with the question and answer game. I picked up the hexagonal

glass of what had turned out to be a light, sparkling silver wine,

sipped at it, then cleared my throat. When Dameron's dark eyes were on

me, I put the glass down again.

"If you've regained part of your strength, I'd like to get on with our

information exchange," I said, gesturing at all the empty dishes. "So

far, all we've exchanged is our names, and that's not my idea of making

headway."

"You do have a point," he sighed, looking regretfully at the leftovers

but pushing his plate away anyway. "Go ahead and ask your questions."

"I've got the next one all ready," I said, leaning forward a little. "I

was told that this is an outpost, but no one's said what sort of an

outpost. Does your Confederacy have a colony here?"

Dameron poured himself more of the wine, then leaned to one side of his

bench with a sigh.

"We have no colony here, but there are people who we protect - in a

way," he said, sipping from his glass before waving a finger at me.

"No, don't start looking at me like that, I'm trying to explain!"

He was annoyed at the expression on my face, but if that was his idea

of explaining, he was bound to get even more annoyed. I kept my

skepticism voiceless and leaned my forearm down to my own bench, and he

continued with a vague gesture of his wine glass.

"We of the Absari Confederacy like to think of ourselves as civilized,"

he groped. "Being civilized, we feel it our duty to help those people

in our area of space who haven't gotten as far as we have. We watch

over them and lend an anonymous hand, easing them more quickly through

certain standard steps of advancement. For instance, we supply various

rulers with advisors who put a premium on intelligence and a gift for

invention. When our assisted kingdoms begin to prosper, their neighbors

copy the methods used to catch up, thereby spreading the idea

painlessly. We also encourage force of arms-no sense helping a kingdom

to prosperity just to see them lose it to the nearest strong man-but we

don't supply any clues which will lead to the more advanced sorts of

weaponry. They don't know about us, won't know about us unless a

catastrophe happens, and we maintain a strict hands-off policy with

anything that's really new. We won't try to change something we've

never seen before; after all, how can we evaluate it?"

He paused at that point to swallow at his wine, and I sipped at my own,

finally understanding why he'd had such a problem with his explanation.

His Confederacy mixed into the affairs of non-member planets, and it's

easy to misinterpret something like that, no matter what the motive

behind it is. I took another sip of wine and smiled at him.

"I can understand why you're careful about something new. Have you come

across many really new things?"

"Not many," he smiled back, relaxing a little. "But a few. As a matter

of fact, this planet has a beauty of a poser that we've been trying to

get to the bottom of since we got here. We try not to have our agents

commit their full lives to a backward planet like this one, and we

certainly don't allow families to settle here, but we may have to make

an exception. The mystery is handed down in certain families only, and

outsiders don't have a chance of getting anywhere near it. Something

will have to be done, but I hope it's done after my time. It's bound to

be involved and risky."

He stopped again, as though he'd already said whatever there was to

say, and I shifted on the bench, my curiosity really aroused.

"Well?" I prompted, wondering if he'd ever remember to include details.

"What is this fantastic mystery? Don't tell me the secret is a secret?" He looked down into his glass as he gently swirled the light, silvery

wine, and he seemed to be fascinated with whatever he saw there.

"I'm sorry to say that the secret is just exactly that," be murmured.

"I don't think you should be too overburdened with knowledge when you

go back to your home sector."

He was so off-hand and casual about it that I nearly missed it. My arm,

which was stretched out to put my glass back on the table, froze to

complete motionlessness, and my jaw dropped down to where I was

sitting.

"Do you mean to sit there and say that you're sending me home?" I

gasped, staring at him. "Why?"

The grin he'd been hiding came all the way out, and he laughed aloud.

"Because, as I told you, we hope to make peaceful contact with your

people some day," he chuckled. "The more friends we have there when the

day comes, the better off we'll be. I'm also personally convinced

you'll say nothing about us when you do get back."

I finished putting my glass on the table, then added my forearms right

in front of it.

"Oh, yes," I nodded with a grumble. "I'd almost forgotten that

unconscious conversation we had. Maybe if you tell me what I said, I'll

find it easier to believe what you're saying."

"You'll believe it when you get there," he grinned, then finished off

his wine. "I found out that much about you. You said you'd been sent

away from your people by someone who wanted to get rid of you before

you put him out of business. I gathered that the business was illegal,

and you're some sort of law enforcement agent for your Federation."

His eyes were on me in a casual, mildly curious way, so I made sure to

squirm uncomfortably and blush enough to be noticed.

"I'd already gotten the proof I needed, but I got careless," I

confessed in an embarrassed voice. "Radman's a slaver, and that's too

lucrative a business not to watch closely. My department would have

known he was responsible for my disappearance, but the way he worked

it, be would have come out as innocent as an infant if he were put to

the Question. he would have been asked about my present physical

whereabouts and condition, and he would have been able to answer in all

honesty, 'I don't know'!"

The thought of it made me furious all over again, but I was careful not

to show the feeling. Radman had seen to it that I would have been able

to stay alive and healthy for years, and hadn't given a damn that

during those years I most likely would have become a raving lunatic.

The thought had been with me constantly during those two months aboard

the ship, but now I was able to think about coming face to face with

him again, now there was more than just the dream of it. The

fingernails of my right hand scraped along the white stone of the table

top, and I barely felt it.

I was brought back to my surroundings when Dameron rose from his bench

and put his hand out to me.

"If you feel up to a short guided tour, we can check on your

transportation home on the way," he smiled. "My second and I've been

working on your ship in our free time, getting it back together, and

the only thing we haven't done yet is reprogram your course computer.

You know, you really did a job on that ship. I don't know how we

managed to get you out of it alive."

"Personally," I said, getting to my feet, "I attribute it to my great

mechanical ability, my unbelievable strength for survival and more luck

than any ten people see in a lifetime."

He chuckled his agreement and we left the terrace, but going back was an experience in itself. The terrace seemed to grow out of the

mountainside, sheer gray rock stretching almost as far up as the ground

below was down, and right in the center of the gray rock was a hazy

golden doorway, through which the plain bed-room could be seen. When we

were both back through the tingling haze, Dameron touched the side of

the doorway again, and in a matter of moments the doorway was once

again a square. I chewed at the inside of my lip as I stared, knowing

that you give away how much you know by the questions you ask, but the

terrace question was one I couldn't let slide. When Dameron began

leading the way toward the sliding exit of the room, I made up my mind.

"The view from the terrace was magnificent," I said as normally as I

could as I followed him to the door. "If that's what's outside these

rooms, I'm surprised you can keep anyone indoors."

"I might have had a problem if that was what was there," he agreed,

slowing as he left the room to let me catch up. "But it happens that

those terraces are nowhere near this base - or this volume of space."

I tried not to frown. "That's not what I would call an informative

answer," I protested, looking up at him as we walked. he chuckled at

the irritation in my tone.

"I don't have many details to give you," be answered, sounding almost

embarrassed. "The splinter terraces are something we use, but not

because we understand them." he sighed a little and shook his head.

"They were looking for a transportation breakthrough and found the

Skytops instead. That's what we call those mountains, and I'm sure you

saw why. We built a terrace and anchored it in the rock, then used it

as a base for exploration. None of the exploration teams or subsequent

searchers were ever heard from again."

His face was serious and his voice was quiet, the sort of quiet some

people use when they speak of the uselessly dead. He'd stopped in the

middle of the corridor and was staring down at the carpeting.

"Wherever that place is," he continued heavily, "all we know about it

is that the constellations are totally unfamiliar-when we finally get

to see them. The days are very long-some fifty standard hours' worth -

and the nights correspond. Our people had survival equipment and

communication equipment, but we still lost them - suddenly and without

explanation. The searchers who went after them were lost to - at a

different point. And there's the last thing to consider." His eyes came

back up to me, holding mine as if daring me to dispute him. "Each time

a new doorway is put into use, a new terrace has to be built. The

terrace is always there after that, but a new doorway means a new

terrace, and the view always seems to be the same. I don't know how

many doorways are in use, but no one has ever seen more than the

terrace he stood on. You're welcome to the information I have on the

terraces, because they're something I would personally like to see

explained. I had a friend on the first ex-team that was lost."

I nodded my head, understanding how he felt, and smiled faintly. "So

they're called splinter terraces because someone feels they're parallel

universes or some such. Do you put much stock in that?"

"Who knows?" he shrugged, starting t9 walk again. "It's always a

possibility, no matter how odd it sounds. We use the terraces in bases

like these to keep the personnel from developing claustrophobia, but

that's all they're good for."

"You still haven't said what's outside," I reminded him, pacing him

down the salmon-colored corridor on dark green carpeting. There were

doorways on both sides of the corridor, and up ahead, about twenty-five

feet in front of us, was an airtight door that looked dependable.

"Outside is nothing but airless moonscape," he answered. "This base is underground on Tildor's nearer moon. When the Tildorani achieve

spaceflight we'll welcome them to the group, but we don't want to be

discovered by them before then."

"Don't blame you a bit," I commented, looking around as I walked. The

doors along the corridor were unmarked, but there were small, metal

plates to the right and left of each door, each pair of plates having a

symbol of some sort, the symbols on each door being different.

"This is our residential area," Dameron supplied in true tour-guide

fashion. "We have to pass through the work area to reach the docking

facilities, so you'll get to see most of the base. It's a typical base

in most respects, but we find it comfortable."

I nodded again without commenting, and continued to look around. We

passed through the airtight door into another corridor, making sure the

door was properly sealed behind us, then paced the length of the

corridor. The walls were a brisk electric blue here with bright rust

carpeting on the floor - a combination which seemed to encourage

bustle. People bustled out of one doorway and into another, not really

rushing but certainly not taking their time, and through the open

doorways I could see other people sitting at odd-looking cubes or

standing near what must have been computer terminals. Everyone was

busy, and Dameron gestured toward them.

"This is our work area, where everything gets done," he explained.

"Detailed information about areas and people are constantly updated,

reports are added to their proper places, supply lists are confirmed

and filled, and placed-on-planet profiles are developed for each of our

team people. Knowing that an advisor-agent is about to take a trip

helps me to keep our barbarian-agents from attacking his escort-and

also gives the barbarian-agents a chance to keep a protective eye on

him. I don't ever want to have to send a report to Absar Central

telling them that half my field team just wiped out the other half.

Reports like that aren't appreciated."

"That's one comment I can understand without details," I laughed, still

looking around. Everything seemed so familiar and home-like that it was

beginning to disturb me. I know that humanoid cultures at certain

levels will be basically the same even if they begin light-years away

from each other, but the base was so totally non-alien that I was

finding it hard not to think of it as an extension of home. If I had

had to learn their language the hard way it would have been easier

remembering that they were strangers and still-possible enemies, but

the ease of communication worked against my trained instincts. If I

didn't find something really alien about these people, I might find

myself in the trap of beginning to like them. Almost in desperation, I

turned my head to Dameron

"What are the people on the planet like?" I asked, hoping for something

extreme.

"The Tildorani are just like you and me," he answered without

hesitation, taking time out from inspecting his work force to glance at

me. "The humanoid form seems to be a popular one, and base personnel

always look like the natives they're Watchers for. You can never tell

when some emergency will arise which will call for shuttling down most

of us, and it's best to be prepared."

"You must have a large group of trained Watchers to be able to match

every backward planet," I commented. "Even among humanoids there can be

a broad enough spread of variations to make a noticeable difference."

"That poses no problem," he said, stopping where he was again. "We have

a simple answer for that based on...

There was a sudden shout of, "Dameron!" and we both turned to see a woman standing in a doorway on the righthand side of the corridor,

about fifteen feet ahead of us. The woman was looking considerably

upset, and Dameron didn't hesitate. he headed for her immediately at a

trot, with me right behind him.

"I'm assuming that that was a shout of joy, Gemiral," he said as he

reached the woman. "I left orders that there were to be no problems

today."

"If this weren't so serious, I'd laugh myself silly over that," the

woman snorted. "You'd better come in here and hear the latest."

Dameron frowned, but followed the woman back through the doorway she'd

come out of. Being shy never pays, so I tagged along after them into

what looked like a communications center. There were three men and two

women seated at consoles, whisper mikes and ear discs in place, and one

unoccupied console had a man standing next to it, a web-thin headset in

his hand. he was big and dark-haired, wearing a uniform of a blue only

slightly lighter than Dameron's, and he gave me a curious stare before

turning his attention to the Commander.

"Is Leandor's team in trouble?" Cameron asked hina, frowning.

"Nothing that simple," the big man answered, tossing the headset gently

onto the console he stood near. "Post five just called to warn us that

Clero's up to something that will affect Bellna when she leaves for the

capital to marry Prince Remo. They'll call back when they have all the

details."

"I knew Clero would try something!" Dameron growled, smacking his open

palm with a wide fist. "Just our luck that it took this long to find

out what. We'd better have enough time to set up a counter-plan, or

everything we've worked for will go right down the tubes."

"It'll be worse than that," the big man said, shaking his head. "We

won't simply be back to square one, we'll be off the board entirely. If

we lose Bellna, we have no one to replace her with."

"I know, I know," Dameron grumbled, gesturing a dismissal at the other

man as he turned away from him. "It's Bellna or nothing, and Clero's

trying to make it nothing. A lot he has to worry about, with five

daughters to throw in the pot. If he loses one or two, he still has the

others. Well, I'm not prepared to lose Bellna, and I wont lose her as

long as I have enough information to plan with. Where the hell is post

5?"

He turned to stare at the silent console, his impatience willing it to

come alive and tell him what he wanted to know, but it didn't respond.

The men and women at the other consoles paid only partial attention to

the displays in front of them, most of their concern directed toward

the same spot Dameron stared at. The woman Gemiral had reclaimed her

seat and headphones, but her presence wasn't doing any more than

Dameron's stare. The only one who looked at all distracted was the

large, dark-haired man, who leaned against Gemiral's console with

folded arms, his eyes resting on me. I leaned back against the wall

near the door and folded my own arms, absorbing the casual stare

without acknowledging it. I didn't want anyone demanding to know what I

was doing there at least until I found out what the flap was all about,

which meant that near invisibility was called for. I looked at nothing

in particular and didn't make a sound, and happily there were no

demands coming my way.

My time sense isn't too inaccurate, but a wait like that is hard to

judge. Subjectively it felt like hours were passing, but objectively it

couldn't have been more than fifteen or twenty minutes before the

console began blinking a demanding orange. The woman Gemiral began

removing her headset, but Dameron gestured impatiently and stepped forward to flip a switch.

"I'm right here, Eavamon," he said to the now steady orange light.

"What have you got?"

"Not nearly enough," a thin voice answered, sounding impossibly

distant. "We've discovered there's going to be an attempt and we know

approximately when they'll hit, but exactly who will be doing the

hitting and what spot they've chosen is still Clero's secret. He's not

taking any chances on a leak."

"You'd better tell me everything you know," Dameron said with a

frustrated look on his face. "It may still be possible to do

something."

"There's very little to it," the thin voice answered. "Clero knows

Bellna will be leaving for the capital soon, and has arranged it so

that she never gets there. It would be harder for him if Havro planned

on using his own men as an escort, but his own men are too deep in that

fight on his western border. Grigon tells us that mercenaries have been

hired, and you know what mercenaries are like."

"Only too well," Dameron muttered, then turned his head to the big man

who stood not far from him.

"Valdon, how many men can we put together to be mercenaries if Havro's

bunch turn out to be useless or bought?"

"None." The big man called Valdon shrugged. "All of you do. I don't

expect to lose, but if I do, the turn is all Natha escapade in post 9's

territory. With the number of barbarians in that area, pulling. them

out quickly is just about impossible. And forget about Leandor even

before you ask. He's Healed, but he's nowhere ready to go back - if we

ever intend seeing him again. But neither of you has heard the latest

from the capital. Sardrin's message came in a little while ago."

"This time it had better be good news," Dameron said, suddenly looking

more alert. "Is it anything we can use?"

"0nly if you'd like Bellna to have a King's Escort," Valdon answered

with a grin. "King Naro has sent the Escort to deliver the dowry gifts

and collect his son's bride, and there are two hundred of them. Can you

see Clero attacking a King's Escort of two hundred fighters?"

"Easily," came the miniature voice of Eavamon from the console, putting

a damper on the pleased grins Dameron and Valdon were showing. "He'd

need two or three times their number in attackers, but the game's worth

it to him. When is the Escort due?"

"In a little less than a local week," Valdon supplied, exchanging looks

with Dameron. "Sardrin would have told us about them as soon as they

left, but King Naro insisted that his most trusted advisers join him in

the pre-nuptial religious ceremonies that are expected of him. Sardrin

thinks Naro wants him to come up with a way out of the need for

ceremonies like that, and after going through one himself he's more

than willing. Why did you ask about the Escort's ETA?"

"I was hoping they might be so close that Clero would not have the time

to find the number of men he needed," Eavamon answered, his sigh so

clear it should have caused a flicker in the orange light.

"Unfortunately that's more than enough time, especially if he has relay

riders watching the capital, which I'm sure he does. He'll know they're

coming and he'll be prepared."

"He may know they're coming, but if he doesn't care about them he won't

be prepared," Dameron said, the words slow and thoughtful.

"Is that supposed to mean something?" the invisible Eavamon asked while

Valdon gave Dameron a look that said the same thing.

"It means that Clero won't care about the Escort if he thinks Bellna

has already left with mercenaries," Dameron said, his face and voice both announcing his grin. "He'll be too busy chasing the mercenary

group to care about an Escort that miraculously missed them."

"With a decoy!" the Eavamon voice crowed, enjoying the idea as much as

Dameron. "A decoy ought to be easy to arrange!"

"Not as easy as all that," Valdon said, taking his turn at wet-blanket

throwing. "Don't forget about the Natha gatherings in 9's territory.

How are we supposed to reach a suitable decoy?"

"You can't tell me every female fighter we have is in on that," Dameron

protested, an edge of impatience to his voice. "Get busy and start

checking, and give me some choices. With almost a week to work in we'll

be able to pull this off, but only if we get going immediately.

Eavamon, let me know if you hear anything else, no matter how

insignificant it is, and start preparing the leak that will tell Clero

Bellna has left secretly with mercenaries. Don't release it until I

give you the word, but have it ready."

"Will do," Eavamon agreed~ already sounding thoughtful. "I'll also get

in touch with Grigon and have him begin preparing a way to keep Bellna

away from those mercenaries and around for the Escort. He'll need the

time."

"He probably will," Dameron said with a nod he seemed to think the

absent Eavamon could see. "We'll call you if we need anything else, but

right now it's up to us. Base out." he flipped off the orange light,

then turned his head. "Valdon, get on that search fast. I want that

information as soon as the files can be programmed."

He turned away from the console without seeing Valdon's preoccupied

nod, the big man having already settled in front of what was probably a

computer terminal. Dameron was heading for the door I was standing

beside, deep in thought, and wouldn't have seen me even if I'd been

dressed in flashing sun-sign. I had no interest in being left behind as

a permanent wall post, so I accepted the risk of being run down and

stepped directly in his path. The commander stopped short, frowned at

me for a minute or two without recognition, then memory flashed briefly

in his eyes. he took my arm and led me out of the room, then waited for

the door to slide closed again behind us before giving me an apologetic

look.

"I'm sorry that took so long, but we have a crisis," he said, trying

hard to really look sorry. "At least you got to see something of the

way we operate. Did you find it interesting?"

"Oh, yes, very," I nodded, keeping my tone solemn. "I get a real kick

out of being in the true thick of things. You said my ship was this

way?"

"Your ship," he echoed, not doing well with hiding his impatience at

the thought of being distracted from his crisis. "That's right, we were

going to your ship, weren't we?" I could almost see his mind going

clickety-clickety-click behind his eyes, but be was obviously the type

who considered business before visitors. he made up his mind fast,

apparently feeling no guilt over the decision. "I can't take the time

for that now," he admitted, giving me the bad news without flinching.

"Once I have this problem squared away we can program your course

computer, and I promise it will be the first thing I do."

"The first thing after a planetary week's worth of waiting?" I asked,

trying not to sound as boorish as I was feeling. he and his people had

saved my life - but I'd been looking forward to going home. "You won't

mind my wandering around here alone and - amusing - myself?"

His expression changed at that, just the way I'd wanted it to, but the

semi-panic he must have been feeling didn't push him in the direction I

was hoping for. He pasted a friendly expression on his face, took my arm again, then started guiding me up the corridor in our original

direction.

"You know, now that you mention it, I think it might interest you more

if you knew exactly what we're in the middle of," he said, sounding as

if he were selling magazines. "Let's get comfortable in my office, and

I'll fill you in."

"There's an old saying about interesting times," I commented, not

letting him hurry me as fast as he wanted to. "Suppose you give me your

coordinates and the proper quadrant and I do my own programming?"

"You may remember what I said about not wanting you too overburdened

with unnecessary information," he said, glancing down at me as he put a

little more muscle into his hauling. "The coordinates of this base come

under the heading of unnecessary."

"Suppose I offer to close my eyes?" I suggested, but only to be

annoying. Dameron would have to enter his location in my ship's

computer in order to program the proper course back to the Federation,

but he could always build in an automatic forget order once destination

was reached which would remove the information. A program like that

could not be tampered with without purging it completely or ruining it

enough to be useless; telling me the coordinates would negate the

entire effort. he snorted under his breath at my suggestion, not even

bothering to comment or refuse, and we continued to the end of the

corridor.

The last room on the left turned out to be Dameron's, and the door slid

aside to show a rust and blue combination that would have deafened me

in a week if I'd had to use it regularly. There was a squarish but

comfortable-looking chair standing to the right of a low block of

plastic or metal, what was probably a computer terminal to the right of

the chair, and a couple of lump chairs in front of the

block~hair4erminal arrangement. All around the walls were filled

shelves, gaps here and there allowing the hanging of various somethings

including very clear photographs of unpeopled landscapes. The lighting

level brightened up from dim as soon as we entered, and Dameron guided

me to the second lump chair before trying to ease me down into it. I

put my right leg slightly behind me and locked the knee, assuming what

was almost standard attack-defense stance, and the good commander found

he couldn't do much against it. he would have had to knee me in the

middle to get me to bend, and he wasn't prepared to go quite that far.

"You'll find the background a lot more comfortable to listen to if you

do it sitting down," he said, turning away as if leaving me erect had

been his original idea. "If nothing else, it will fill the time until-"

His words broke off as his attention was captured by the supposed

computer terminal, which was signaling for his attention. He hit a key

that sent symbols of all sorts scurrying across the screen, giving him

information that he absorbed as fast as it came. It took two or three

minutes before he had it all, and then he flipped it back to blank

while muttering under his breath.

"I take it the news wasn't particularly good," I observed, watching him

drop into the squarish chair with a preoccupied look. "More headaches

to add to the ones you already have?"

"Just an added dimension to the existing ones," he answered with a

sigh, breaking out of the preoccupation. "It seems Valdon was right:

every one of our female fighters is committed to post 9's territory,

and we'd have to use a scoutship to reach them - if we knew exactly

where they were. They're involved with the barbarians and the

barbarians are on the move, and we can't just walk in there and

politely ask to speak to one or two of our girls. We can't settle the crisis in Narella by creating a new one in Natha."

"You know, I've heard it said that the best way to thi is to occupy

your hands and attention with something that has nothing to do with

your problem," I remarked, folding my arms as I looked down at him.

"The subconscious gets it all settled for you, and you've accomplished

two things instead of one."

"You don't give up, do you?" he rejoindered, amused. "This isn't the

sort of problem my subconscious can do anything about. It may turn out

to need something on the order of a miracle. Are you going to make me

get a crick in my neck from looking up at you while I talk? These

details take some telling."

I could see from the sparkle in his dark eyes that his amusement had

increased, but I wasn't sharing any of it. he wasn't going to be

working on my course computer unless I threatened his life, and

probably not even then. he struck me as the sort who would die in his

tracks rather than let himself be forced into something he'd decided

against, even if the decision was temporary. I looked up at the blue

ceiling in defeat as I shook my head, then turned to the lump chair I'd

refused earlier. I'd listen to his damned story, then start working on

him again once it was over.

"You have my neck's grateful appreciation," he chuckled as he watched

me sit, trying not to sound too victorious. "I've also heard it said

that you can solve a problem by explaining the situation to someone

else aloud, so don't think of this as wasting time. Think of it as

giving me some help in return for the help I'll be giving you."

He grinned outright at that, probably thinking he was backing me into a

corner of guilt-riddled gratitude, but he had to be forgiven for the

mistaken belief. he just didn't know me very well - but he would learn.

"The area we're primarily concerned with right now is called Narella,

after Naro, its current king, the fourth in his line," Dameron began,

leaning back comfortably in his squarish chair. "Narella is the most

advanced country on this continent, and although we're not ignoring the

other countries, this is where we're concentrating our efforts. Here's

what the country looks like."

He reached over to tap a series of keys on his terminal, and suddenly

the block of metal or plastic on his other side was no longer blank.

The side facing me lit up to show a map of sorts, heavy lines

surrounding an area that was divided up into six sub areas of varying

sizes.

"King Naro rules the country, but he has five princes governing

different parts of it under him," Dameron continued, looking at the top

of the block, which was out of my line of vision. "The eastern-most

area is his own domain, and larger than any of the other five. His

capital city Naridon is here, near the western border."

A black dot appeared on the map, roughly halfway between the northern

and southern boundaries, just as Dameron put a finger on the top of the

block in what would be the same place if he had a view of the map in

front of him. The block seemed to be a repeater screen of middling

complexity, and not the limited desk area I had originally guessed at.

"The political situation in Narella is no different from any other

primitive area - and too many so-called civilized ones," the lecture

went on. "Naro is a really good king, not terribly despotic, more fairminded

than you would expect, a crafty leader, a capable military

commander, and a man willing to consider intelligent advice. he runs

the country to suit himself, but he understands that the better off his

people are, the more he can demand in taxes and levies. Despite the

fact that Naro is making life profitable and pleasant for his princes as well as himself, some of them would prefer seeing another king on

the throne, namely one of their number.

"The leader of the most well organized opposition is Prince Clero, a

man we know more about than we care for. He's not nearly as intelligent

as he thinks he is, has the support of the others through fear, and

indulges in brutality just for the fun of it. Giving him advice is like

spitting before you know what direction the wind is coming from: you

only find out after you do it whether or not it was a good idea. Re's a

paranoid who suspects everyone of plotting against him, and we lost two

agents before we were able to adopt a lower profile in his keep. His

lands are here."

Black dots circled the second most westerly division as Dameron's

finger moved around a section on the top of the block. Not counting the

king's lands, the area was second largest of the rest, the section to

the west of it being a third again its size.

"This Clero sounds like a real charmer," I said, studying the map. "Why

don't you arrange for a fatal accident and be rid of him?"

"Have you ever tried to reach a paranoid in high position?" Dameron

asked with a serious snort. "We might be able to justify a move like

that to Absar Central, but even if we could we'd still have to be able

to do it without using anything of our more advanced technology. If I

authorized taking Clero out any other way, I'd spend the rest of my

career on Absar, listing the thousand best reasons why I should have

the same thing done to me. We're here to help these people by guiding

them, not by taking them over."

"Then why are you working so hard against Clero?" I asked, raising my

eyes to Dameron's face. "If you don't have the right to stop him by

killing him, it could be argued that you don't have the right to stop

him at all. Maybe he'd make a better king than Naro in spite of your

opinions to the contrary."

"We're not discussing unsupported opinion," Dameron snapped, with a

frown. he didn't realize I was needling him on purpose, playing devil's

advocate to get even for the lecture he was forcing me to sit through.

"We're discussing carefully documented evidence that supports the

contention that Clero is a dangerous psychopath who would have the

country in ruins in less than two years. Even if you dismissed

everything else, his views on the slave trade should be enough to prove

the point."

"The slave trade?" I echoed, suddenly seeing Radman's face flash across

my mind. "He's a slaver?"

"Not directly, no," Dameron answered with a head-shake, his face grim

and his voice nearly a growl. "He just gives slaving his whole-hearted

support, and patronizes the trade regularly and eagerly. he buys male

slaves and works them to death without looking at them twice; he

wouldn't care if it was his own grandfather who had been enslaved.

Female slaves he looks at more than twice, especially the very young

ones. Some of them have been sold to the slavers by their fathers, some

were stolen when they weren't watched carefully enough; he never

questions their origins when he buys them. After he buys the - well,

they usually survive, but you'd be surprised how little that says. Use

like that is hard enough on grown women; what it does to little girls

is unspeakable, especially if he decides to train them to a life of it.

That's one of his hobbies. Can you see it in his eyes?"

The map was suddenly replaced by a depth photo of a man, but Dameron's

question was bitterness without meaning. The eyes that stared out at me

were light-colored and laughing, set in a handsome face topped by sandy

hair. The handsome face was wreathed in smiles, true delight and good-

natured happiness clear in every line. If the man had been a politician

women would have eagerly raised their babies for him to kiss, and

fathers would have volunteered their teenage daughters to help him in

his campaigning. It was the face of a man who loved life and loved

people, a man who trusted and could be trust - a man who, according to

Dameron, was a sadistic psychopath.

"And Naro's above all that?" I asked after a minute of studying the

mature, handsome face. "No hidden little twists he keeps out of the

public eye?"

"Naro's a product of his culture," Dameron shrugged, tapping the

terminal again. "He enjoys indulging himself with female slaves, but he

knows the slave trade can get out of hand if it isn't kept under tight

control. People beating the woods for stolen children aren't very

productive, and a drop in productivity affects his tax collections.

He's nothing if not practical, but what more can people ask for in a

ruler?"

The face now projected in front of me was approximately the same age as

Clero's, but there the similarity ended. Naro was dark-haired and darkeyed,

his features average and nondescript except for a faint and

difficult to define air to competence and decisiveness. he also looked

as though he would be harder to get along with than Clero, harder to

talk to and harder to relate to.

"Why isn't Naro taking care of seeing to Clero?" I asked, looking up to

see Dameron's eyes on me. "If he's as competent as you say, he ought to

know who the opposition is."

"Naro does know who the opposition is," Dameron answered with a faint,

humorless smile. "He knows all about the distant cousin of his who

Clero uses as a front. As far as Clero goes, no one beyond the other

princes involved - and ourselves - know what he's up to. And even if

people were told about it, how many of them would believe it? Could you

look Clero in the face and suspect him of anything underhanded? Being

hard on slaves doesn't equate with planning treason. Every-one is hard

on slaves."

"You do have a problem," I admitted, seeing that King Naro's face had

been replaced with the map we'd been looking at. "And just what is

Clero planning?"

"He's trying to reach the throne by the back door," Dameron said, his

tone still annoyed. "King Naro's oldest son and heir, Remo, is

seventeen, a ripe marriage-able age. Clero has been trying to pair Remo

up with one of his daughters, which would be the beginning of the end

for Naro. Right after the marriage an accident could be arranged to

settle Naro, and then Remo would become king. Remo's two brothers would

then follow their father, after which it would be Remo's turn. With

Clero's daughter a widowed queen and no other heir in sight, guess who

could walk into the Regent's job - which would evolve into the

kingship?"

"Why would a widowed queen need a regent?" was my next try, seriously

curious. "Are Clero's daughters so incompetent they'd need a regent, or

are they just so far under daddy's thumb they'd ask for him?"

"Neither," Dameron came back, a sudden amusement in his dark eyes.

"Narella will never be ruled by a queen simply because women aren't

competent enough to rule. They're shallow, flighty, empty-headed,

unknowledgeable, too flatterable and totally helpless. Women are made

for bedrooms and kitchens, not thronerooms."

"How would you like your arm broken in three places?" I asked mildly

and pleasantly through a comfortable smile. "Afterward I can even give

you the medical terminology for each of the breaks, which break came first, and a pretty good estimation of how long each will take to

heal."

"Why do I get the feeling you're not really joking?" Dameron asked, his

grin coming full out. "If I didn't know better I'd think you were angry

with me, but that couldn't be. All I was doing was quoting the way

Narellan men see the thing. Which, of course, has nothing to do with my

own views."

"Oh, of course," I agreed with a sober nod. "Are they really all that

backward?"

"Backward isn't the word," Dameron snorted, still somewhat amused. "If

their women step out of line they beat them, without hesitation and

without regret. A woman with a smart mouth would get it twice as fast,

just to be sure she didn't make the same mistake a second time. If

there's one thing those women give their men, it's obedience and

respect."

"That's two things," I pointed out, giving him the ghost of a smile.

"And there's a difference between respect and fear, a big difference.

So Clero's daughter as a widowed queen would mean Clero as king, but

you and your horde have a plan to stop him - if you can make it work

right."

"It damned well better work right," Dameron growled. "The only way we

could counter his move was to find another candidate for bride-to-be,

which we did. Havro is another prince governing under Naro, his lands

lying here, to the west of Clero's."

The dots ran around the most westerly section, the largest area after

the king's, the one lying right next to Clero's, and then the map

disappeared to show the face of a man. Obviously part of the age group

shared by Naro and Clero, Prince Havro was a man with a broad, boyish

face and bright red hair, blue eyes sharp with private amusement. he

wasn't as distant as Naro or as handsome as Clero, but there was still

something - involved - about him.

"Havro is a competent man, reliable enough to guard the country's

western border from barbarian invasion, and intelligent enough to take

suggestions when they make sense," Dameron said. "He considers ruling a

responsibility rather than a right, and he has a daughter who is

perfect for our purposes. Bellna has no sisters, but in any contest

between her and Clero's three eligible girls, she might as well be

considered quintuplets. She's prettier than Clero's three, smarter than

they are, quick to learn, and eager to become the eventual queen of

Narella. We maneuvered Bellna and Remo into a meeting at the capital -

right after Remo'd had Clero's daughters presented to him. Our timing

couldn't have been better."

The repeater screen first showed three girls ranging in age from

fourteen to seventeen years, standing near a dark-haired, dark-eyed,

very handsome young male. The male looked as though he would have been

happy to drop through the floor, but from boredom more than anything

else. The youngest girl was still a boy, straight up and down and with

no hint of femininity even in her face. The second girl was clearly

feminine, but too sweetly female and very delicate looking. The third

and oldest was pretty, but the stiffness in her stance and the forced

smile on her face said that nothing in life was likely to please her.

All three wore long, complicated party gowns, well fitted and well

made, but none of them looked right in the clothing.

And then the screen changed to a single girl standing near the boy, and

I blinked at the extreme difference. This girl had lots of bright red

hair and dancing blue eyes, a smile to make a man three days dead rise

again, and a body that made all the previous three look like boys. The young male was grinning down at her, his eyes nearly a blur, his

approval and interest so clear that anyone watching him would have to

laugh softly. The girl returned his look with a cloaked arrogance and

wordless challenge in her eyes that had probably made him quiver, and I

laughed at that, too.

"Bellna is no more than about fifteen, but Remo considers that

perfect," Dameron said, a chuckle in his voice. "His bride bar to be

from one of the princely families, and Clero's daughters are about

average among the rest. Remo spoke to his father about his decision,

got Naro's approval, then made the engagement formal. Re's bright and

able to make even unpleasant decisions quickly, and should make a good

king when he succeeds his father."

"And his marrying Bellna should let him live long enough to reach that

point," I nodded. "I'm assuming that if Bellna ends up a widowed queen

with all the rest of Remo's family gone, Havro rather than Clero would

he tapped as Regent. What I'm wondering is, wouldn't that simply put

Havro in the same spot as Naro and the others? If Clero can scratch a

king and his sons, what's to keep him from doing it to another prince

like himself?"

"That's a good question," Dameron said with a smile of approval.

"You're right in all of your assumptions except for the one concerning

worry about Havro. Havro and Clero are enemies of long standing, and

while Havro isn't paranoid he also isn't foolish enough to let Clero or

any of his friends or hirelings get anywhere near him. If we can keep

Bellna safe until she marries Remo, Clero will be stopped cold until he

can think of something else."

"Which brings you right back to the big if," I said, leaning back in

the lump chair. "You can decoy Clero away if you can find a stand-in

for Bellna. None of the women I've seen in this base looks much like

her, but I suppose padding, make-up and a wig would take care of that.

Why don't you use one of the gals you have here?"

"Because none of them are trained fighters," Dameron said, in a voice

charged with frustration. "They've all had field experience to one

degree or another, but whoever goes out as decoy has to expect to be

the object of Clero's attempt at bloody murder. The Tildorani are still

in the sword-swinging stage before gunpowder, but that only means that

our decoy has to be able to handle a blade well enough so that she

needn't depend on protection from someone else. Getting separated from

outside protection can happen all too easily. Whoever does the decoy

work not only has to look exactly like Bellna, she also has to be able

to fight a whole lot better than that pretty little girl."

The block to Dameron's right reverted to its original picturelessness

as Dameron tapped keys on his terminal, but I sat and frowned at it a

minute before shifting my eyes back to the man.

"What do you mean, the decoy has to look exactly like Bellna?" I asked,

watching him as he tapped at keys. "I can understand the need for

fighting ability, but aren't you crowding your options a little by

insisting on an exact look-alike? It could be years before you found

anyone like that - if you ever did. I thought you said you had less

than a week."

"I don't have to find someone who looks exactly like Bellna," Dameron

said with a snort of faint amusement, still paying attention to his

terminal. "The changes in facial structure and all will require only

minor Healing, nothing major involved. Less than a week gives us more

than enough time for it - if we can find someone to change soon enough.

If we didn't need that relationship with the barbarians so badly-"

His voice trailed off as the symbols of his terminal took his attention again, and I didn't say anything more to distract him, being too busy

with my own thoughts. If I was understanding him correctly - and I

didn't see how I could be mistaken Dameron's people were able to change

anyone to look like anyone else as easily as my people shuttled back

and forth from planets to orbital stations. The possibilities inherent

in the process were endless and fascinating, especially in my line of

work. If I could be changed to look like - oh, that young girl Bellna,

for instance, I could get away with almost anything I tried. Rather

than depending on my brown hair and eyes to let me melt into a crowd as

camouflage, I could let red hair and blue eyes distract any male to the

point where I could stalk a target, reach him, and then walk away

without ever being suspected of anything nasty. No one would believe

that a fifteen year old girl could be a Special Agent, and that would

give me more of an edge than being female did. I crossed my legs as I

watched pictures parading past my inner eye, and forgot all about

Dameron.

At least until he made a sound of pleased surprise and turned away from

his terminal. His face was lit with hopeful excitement, and he bounced

out of his chair as if he had just shed ten years of heavy worry.

"The gods must be on our side in this one," he said through a grin as

he headed for the door. "One of the gals from post nine is on her way

in, and should be here any minute. You just relax where you are, girl.

I won't be long."

By that time the door was already sliding closed behind him, so there

wasn't much sense in trying to argue. I was annoyed at being left there

to sit and twiddle when I could have been a good number of parsecs on

my way back home, but there wasn't anything I could do about it until

Dameron got back. I leaned back in the lump chair again and began

sketching out a going-home campaign that would grab Dameron's attention

by the throat and hold it long enough to get something done.

I had developed a line of attack with enough variables to cover almost

any contingency and was ready to start fleshing it out with carefully

chosen detail, when the door to the room slid open again. I thought it

was Dameron coming back, but the figure walking through the opening

belonged to the one who had been called Valdon. he had dark black hair

and dark black eyes, and although he wasn't quite as big as the junior

giant named Leandor, he didn't miss by much. he moved as lightly and

with as much confidence as the leader of the field team had, which was

usually unexpected in such big men. he hesitated very briefly when he

saw me, as though he hadn't expected to find me there, then headed

straight for Dameron's chair.

"Well, there you are again," he observed, sitting down and keying the

terminal to life without taking his eyes off me. "I saw you earlier,

with Dameron, in the communications room."

"Yes, I remember that," I observed back, keeping the answer neutral and

uncommitted. I didn't know where this Valdon stood in the base, but the

fewer people who knew about my origins, the better. It might be

necessary for Dameron and his second to have all the details, but as

far as I was concerned that was still two too many. Either one of them

could, at any time, come up with a dozen great reasons for keeping me

there a while longer, and the more people who knew about me, the better

the chance that some mental lightbulbs would glow. Leaving the base

amid tearful good-byes was preferable to fighting my way out of it, so

a low profile was definitely a high priority.

The terminal beeped for attention, giving Valdon something else to

stare at, but the distraction didn't last long. There were only three

rows of symbols for him to glance at and respond to, and then his dark black eyes were on me again.

"How do you like our facilities?" he asked, as though just making

conversation to while away the time. "The base is pretty standard, but

we like to think we have better optionals than any other outpost in the

Confederacy."

"I'm sure you do," I agreed in a sober way, leaving it to him to decide

whether I was agreeing with his opinion or his conclusion. A faint

shadow that might have been annoyance flickered in his eyes while he

waited for me to add to my four word statement, and when I didn't he

stirred in the squarish chair.

"We don't often get visitors like you, and I'm curious about you," he

admitted in a friendly, outgoing way. "I'm assuming you're lost, and

were heading somewhere else. Where were you going, and how long did it

take you to get here?"

He was playing it casual, asking his too-pointed questions and trying

to keep his interested inspection of me from becoming overly obvious.

he seemed to be a man who felt no discomfort from really looking at a

woman, but who had learned that many women flinched from that sort of

hunter's interest. I couldn't remember a time when the thought of being

hunted didn't amuse and interest me more than bother me, but the

opportunity was too good to miss.

"I-really don't remember," I answered only the last of his questions,

swallowing hard as I looked down at my hands in my lap. I had quietly

drawn my knees together and was sitting as stiffly and primly as the

lump chair allowed. "How much longer do you think Dameron will be?"

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be back any minute," Valdon's voice rushed to

reassure me, his tone a shade too jolly. "How about something to drink

while we're waiting?"

"Drink?" I echoed as if I'd never heard the word before, and nearly

panicked. I was letting it all fall apart at once, as though my

previous coolness had been no more than a front I couldn't maintain any

longer. Valdon was a very handsome man, with the sort of masculine

features and mannerisms that too often flustered women right into

hysterics. If the way he shrugged meant anything, he'd had to face that

particular problem be-fore and shouldn't be too hard to divert from

detectiving.

"Yes, a drink," he repeated with a pleasant smile. "As a matter of

fact, I'll be glad to join you. What would you like?"

He started to get out of Dameron's chair, anxious to be doing something

other than trying not to stare at me, but he'd asked another question

that it wouldn't be safe to give a non-specific answer to. The man

might be temporarily flustered, but he wasn't likely to be stupid; too

many artful evasions would be bound to set him thinking. Instead of

registering his question in any way I scrambled out of the lump chair

and backed away from him in mute, wide-eyed fear, hoping I wasn't

pushing the act too far. I fully expected to back out the door into the

corridor, but found myself startled for real when the door didn't slide

open behind me. I'd been wondering why Dameron had been so casual about

leaving me unaccompanied and unwatched, and now I'd accidentally gotten

the answer. Being locked in annoyed the hell out of me, but for the

sake of the performance I was putting on for Valdon, I couldn't let it

show.

"This is ridiculous," Valdon muttered, straightening slowly Out of the

chair, seeming annoyed. "You're act as though I'm about to attack you.

My self-control is really a lot better than that - I haven't attacked a

woman in months."

He grinned a very attractive grin to show he was just kidding, but I couldn't afford to chuckle in answer the way I wanted to. I gave him a

sickly smile to show I was trying, and put a shaky hand to my hair.

"I know I'm being silly, but I can't help it," I said in a very small

voice, sending him a pleading look. "The way you were looking at me,

the way you talk - I'm just not used to it. Do you think you can go and

see what's keeping Dameron?"

To say I was trying to get rid of him was an understatement, and I was

expecting him to be more than happy to g0 - but things didn't work out

that way. A deeply frustrated expression flashed briefly across his

face, and then he was looking apologetic.

"I already know what's keeping Dameron, and I'm afraid I have to stay

here," he said, very sincere compassion clear in his tone. "I've got to

keep an eye on the progress of certain of our projects until he gets

back, and I've got to do it with this terminal. You don't mind sharing

the room with me for that short a time, do you?"

He brought the grin back and made it really warm, trying to jolly me

out of my upset and interest me by turning on the charm. The only

problem with that was that in another minute we'd be back to chummy

conversation and more questions, the avoidance of which was my original

reason for starting that nonsense. I needed him gone or neutralized,

and if I couldn't have one I'd have to settle for the other; it all

depended on how gullible he was. I let my eyes begin filming over with

tears, and plucked nervously at the one-piece suit t was wearing.

"But I'm afraid of you," I whispered, making sure my voice came out

ragged. "I've never been this close to someone like you before, someone

who has actually worked among uncivilized barbarians. You keep looking

at me the way one of them would - I'm going to cry hard, I just know I

am!"

I sniffled a little, finding it damned hard not to burst out laughing

at the stricken look that replaced his well-practiced grin. Most men

were sensible enough to ignore blackmail tears, but every now and then

one would come along who turned to quivering jelly at the first choked

sob and/or glisten of moisture. I was almost ashamed to go on taking

advantage, but he'd had his chance to bail out and hadn't taken it. It

was too bad, but business was business.

"Now, now, you don't really want to cry," he said, looking as though he

wanted to come closer and put his manly arms around me - but didn't

dare. "What if I promise not to look at you the way one of them would?

That would make you feel better, wouldn't it?"

"I don't know," I snuffled, sounding absolutely forlorn. "Maybe - maybe

- if you didn't look at me at all -"

"That's a good idea," he agreed with enthusiasm, turning completely

around to look at me over his shoulder. "This is better, isn't it?"

"You're still looking at me," I pointed out with the same quiver in my

voice. "And you're much too close. And you sound so - so - overawing."

"All right, all right, I'll take care of it," he said, that close to

growling. I wasn't sure there was such a word as overawing, but he was

still trying to keep me from being overawed. he turned his head

completely away from me, stalked up to the wall directly behind

Dameron's block-chair-terminal arrangement, then spoke to the wall.

"This had better do it for you," he said, making sure not to turn

again. "I've never been very good at melting into polycrete."

"Oh, that's perfect," I gushed, with a slight grin. "If you can only

stay like that until Dameron comes back, I'm sure I won't cry."

"You have no idea how much those words mean to me," he muttered,

folding his arms across his chest to signal an end to the conversation

that frightened me so much. I laughed without sound as I eased myself over to the second lump chair and then into it, finally stretching out

to prop my feet on the block Dameron had done so much with. I would

have put Valdon into the room's corner if I hadn't thought that would

be pushing it, but seeing him standing in front of the wall like a

naughty little boy was almost as good. If he hadn't been considering me

a helpless little flutterhead of a female he never would have gone

along with my insistances, so he deserved whatever he got for that as

well as for being too nosy.

Another twenty minutes or so passed with Valdon shifting at the wall

but doing no more than that, a pleasant silence surrounding us that let

me go on with developing my campaign against Dameron. I was ready to

pull my feet down if the terminal signaled for Valdon's attention, but

the interruption never came and Valdon never turned. I was finding it

hard to believe that a grown man could be put to a wall and kept there

with such a pack of nonsense, but that's the way it went until the door

to the room slid noiselessly aside and Dameron stepped in. he stopped

in the doorway to stare first at Valdon and then at me, and a look of

confusion settled on his broad features.

"What are you two doing?" he asked, sounding and looking bewildered.

"We were waiting for you to get back," I answered, looking up at him

without moving even though Valdon turned immediately away from the

wall. "You certainly took long enough."

"There was more involved than I thought there - I still don't

understand." Dameron's bewilderment was about to turn into annoyance.

"Why is Valdon standing near the wall all the way over there, while

you're - what the hell is going on?"

"Nothing's going on," I assured him, putting my feet down and standing

up to face him. Valdon was staring at me without saying a word, but I

had more pressing matters to think about. "Why don't you and I take a

little walk and see to that chore we were discussing earlier? It won't

take long, and then you can concentrate on Narella without any

distractions. And there are a few other very pertinent advantages I'll

be glad to point out on the way. You might say it'll be an offer you

can't refuse."

I gave him an impatient grimace, but before he could answer, another

precinct was heard from.

"I could be mistaken, but it sounds as if you're over your bout of

shyness," Valdon observed, his deep voice having intensified. "Or is it

just those of us who have really worked with 'uncivilized barbarians'

who make you want to cry?"

"I'm very unprejudiced," I said, looking over my shoulder at Valdon's

annoyance. "If the situation calls for it, I'm willing to shed a few

tears for anyone. Are you feeling cheated because I didn't make good on

the threat?"

"She threatened you?" Dameron demanded of Valdon, still trying to

figure out what was going on. "What did you do to her?"

"I - 'overawed' her," Valdon answered dryly, as he stared at me. "I

made her so nervous by the ferocious way I looked at her and talked to

her that she almost had hysterics. I had to promise not to look at her

again or say a word, just to keep her from fainting or throwing a

crying fit."

"Hysterics," Dameron repeated in a flat voice. "Fainting and crying.

Are we talking about the same female?"

I turned my head to Dameron to see that although his unfriendly stare

was aimed at me, his faint air of ridicule was directed at Valdon. The

big man's handsome face had darkened in response to Dameron's scoffing,

but he hadn't added anything. "I had to find something amusing to pass the time," I told Dameron's

accusing stare in a hurt tone designed to let him know how unjust his

accusation was. "It wasn't my idea to be left here unoccupied and

ignored while you went trotting off to have fun. And I don't know what

you're complaining about - no one got hurt, did they?"

I made my question as pointed as possible without being deliberately

offensive; Dameron showed he got the point by straightening where he

stood and sobering. I hadn't strung Valdon just for the fun of it, but

if Dameron understood that the interlude could have been destructive

rather than embarrassing, we didn't have to go into anything else. I

wanted Dameron to see how much better off his base would be with me

gone from it, and if his expression was anything to judge by, I wasn't

far from getting what I wanted. Dameron opened his mouth, probably to

agree to my suggestion of a walk, but the big hand suddenly wrapping

around my right arm stopped any words from being said.

"So making me look like a fool was nothing more than an amusement for

you," Valdon growled, tightening his grip to match the anger in his

eyes. "You needed some entertainment to stave off boredom, and I was

it. Did you find all the fun you were looking for? You weren't

disappointed?"

"If you don't like being conned, try being less nosy," I told him,

meeting his anger calmly. "Not everyone considers exchanging life

histories the best of conversational topics. And don't feel too raw

over being taken in. You aren't the first to fall for some line I

happened to come up with, and you won't be the last. The best thing you

can do right now is forget it-and let go of my arm."

"Or you'll cry?" he asked, still staring down at me. "Maybe a few tears

would be the best thing that could happen to you after all - to see to

it that I am the last one to fall for some line of yours. You had your

fun; it would only be fair if I took my turn."

"Valdon," Dameron rumbled warningly from behind my left shoulder, but

those deep black eyes gave no indication that the warning had been

heard. They were locked to my face, watching for a reaction to the

threat he'd made, waiting for the fainthearted regret he expected to

set in. It was too bad I wouldn't be leaving there without trouble

after all, but that's the way things went sometimes.

"You're entitled to make a stab at taking your turn," I agreed, then

shot my arm forward and sideways fast against his fingers, which broke

his hold on my arm. "Only don't expect me to stand here like a statue

while you do. I don't expect to lose, but if I do the turn is all

yours."

I set myself without being obvious about it, curious as to how good he

was. The way he moved said he wasn't likely to be clumsy or awkward,

and his size, handled as easily as he handled it, was a definite asset

for him. If he didn't have a weak middle or a glass jaw I would have my

hands full, and shortly thereafter the rest of me would match, with

bruises if nothing else. Killing him was out, of course, for many

reasons even beyond the one that said he had a right to try getting

even. I usually followed the adage that counseled, "Never make enemies

by accident, only on purpose," but that time I'd missed. If a few

bruises were the price for reclaiming the slip, I'd pay the price and

count myself lucky, there had been times when it had been higher. I

watched the man in front of me carefully, waiting for his first move,

but for some reason it didn't come. He just stood and frowned down at

me, finally shaking his head.

"If you're expecting me to start a fist fight with you, you can forget

it," he said, his tone flat and final. "Despite your generous offer, I don't make a habit of fist-fighting with women - even when they deserve

a good swatting at the very least. All you can expect from me is the

swatting, but I'll choose my own time and place, thanks. I'm used to

setting up my own schedules."

I watched him walk between Dameron and me and head for the door, and

once it had closed behind him I couldn't help shaking my head the way

he had.

"What in the name of the deep endless dark was he talking about?" I

asked no one in particular, then looked at Dameron. "And what's a

swatting?"

"He was trying to tell you that he doesn't beat up on women even when

they're expecting him to," Dameron answered, leaning back against the

wall by the door with folded arms. "How did all that happen to get

started?"

"He came in and immediately began asking me all sorts of questions," I

explained, still feeling the urge to shake my head. "I decided that it

was enough for you and your second to know about me, and we didn't need

baby to make three. I had the choice of telling him what to do with his

questions and thereby starting a fight, or conning him and keeping it

peaceful. Believe it or not, I decided to keep it peaceful."

"Do all of your people use the same definition of peaceful?" Dameron

asked with a snort of amusement. "If they do, I can't wait until we're

in full contact with them. And for your information, Valdon is my

second in command. He wasn't there when I was questioning you - a small

crisis had come up that needed seeing to - and he was probably trying

to find out what he'd missed. Looks like he got more than he bargained

for."

"He should have told me who he was," I said with a shrug, ready to

dismiss the whole thing. "I usually use restraint when dealing with an

ally. And speaking about dealing, now that your urgent errand is seen

to, let's take that walk and do a little dealing of our own. I think I

can safely say you owe it to your people to get me out of here as soon

as possible."

"You may be right about that." he nodded, still sticking to his piece

of wall. "But when you talk about my urgent errand having been seen to,

don't start assuming it was seen to successfully. Flantoril, the post 9

fighter who just came in, can't do the job I need her for. The only

reason she's back here is to be treated for the wounds she took in a

recent fight; if she hadn't been brought back, she would have died.

Healing will keep her alive, but only if she doesn't have to go through

a second session of Healing to change her into Bellna. Rumanoids from

her home sector don't react well to too much. Healing. Did you really

intend trying to defend yourself against Valdon?"

"Why not?" I asked, surprised by the sudden, out-of-context question.

"A small, harmless-looking man like him ought to be a cinch to take.

What has that got to do with our visit to my course computer?"

"It has a lot to do with it," he said, finally coming away from the

wall to stand himself in front of me. "When I saw you calmly accepting

the possibility of a fight with a man most men would try to appease, it

came to me to wonder how well you can handle a sword."

"No, you don't!" I said with an immediate headshake, holding one hand

up toward him while the other turned into an automatic, unconscious

fist. "As far as you're concerned, I don't even know what the word

sword means. Your problems in Narella are none of my business, and I

intend keeping it that way. If you'll just show me the blinking red

sign reading 'Exit' I'll get out of your way and take care of my course

computer myself." "Without specific coordinate and quadrant data?" he asked very mildly,

the dark eyes looking down at me faintly amused. "I'll bet you can

handle a sword at least as well as one of my team girls."

"The couple of times I tried, I nearly cut my own foot off," I said,

feeling absolutely no guilt over the lie as I met his gaze. "And as far

as coordinates and quadrant data go, I'll take my chances without them.

The same luck that got me here just might get me home again."

"That would be more miracle than luck," he snorted, still looking at me

with those piercing eyes. "And don't you think you owe us more than a

brisk 'thanks!' and a farewell wave? If not for us you'd be a stiff,

blue corpse, riding an airless hulk into eternity."

"Very poetic," I applauded with a nod. "Not to mention graphic. Now,

out of pure, soul-deep gratitude, I'm supposed to put my neck on the

chopping block with an eager smile? What's the difference between dying

in space and dying on a planet I have no business going near?"

"The more I talk to you and think about you, the more convinced I

become that if anyone can survive, you're the one," he said. "It may

have taken me awhile to put the whole picture together, but now that I

have, you can't deny it."

"How about if I deny your sanity?" I came back, putting my fingers on

my hips. "I don't know what you're thinking about, and I doubt very

much if you do."

"I know exactly what I'm talking about," he chuckled, suddenly moving

past me to his blocky chair. He sat, tapped a few keys on his terminal,

got half a dozen symbols in answer, then turned all the way back to me.

"I don't know why I didn't think of the question sooner, but it finally

came to me to ask why you were put in a crippled ship and headed into

the deep black."

He beamed at me with a possessiveness I'd noticed earlier, looking as

though he'd made his point and was just waiting for me to acknowledge

it. I have often found myself with my head in a noose, but I can

honestly say I never helped put it there.

"You see a big secret in that?" I came back immediately, throwing in a

shrug for good measure. "All I see is the caution of a man who knows

what's good for him. My people knew what I was doing and who I was

involved with; if they decided to bring Radman in and put him to the

Question, he'd have to be able to say that the last time he saw me I

was alive and healthy, and was still in that condition as far as he

knew. That's why he made sure I had everything I needed to be

comfortable."

"Very logical and neat," Dameron conceded, but his nod and smile showed

nothing of concession. The man did it to protect himself. But you did

say he was a slaver, didn't you? Couldn't he just have added you to his

inventory and been able to say the same thing? I can't imagine his

having any trouble selling a woman with your - ah - obvious attributes,

and I'm sure your Federation has too many planets for him to be afraid

that your people might stumble across you. If he didn't arrange a set

of chains and a private auction for you, there must have been a reason.

He paused again, still wearing that "gotcha" expression, clearly

waiting for me to comment; being compassionate, I saw no reason to

disappoint him.

"Yes?" I prompted, looking faintly interested. "And the reason was?"

"That he thought you had too good a chance to get yourself out of any

arrangement like that," he growled, suddenly annoyed that I was

ignoring the way he was pinning me to the wail. "If an enemy who knew

you went to such lengths to be safely rid of you, then you have to be

more than just average at what you do. Now go ahead and make your denials."

"I have no denials to make," I shrugged, turning away from his darkeyed

stare to go and reclaim my old lump-chair. I slid into it and made

myself comfortable, then looked at him again. "I see no reason to

either confirm or deny anything you say. Just let me know when you get

to the end of your lecture series and the testing is about to start.

That's when I'd like to leave."

"Damn it, you can't refuse to do this job for me!" he snapped, leaning

forward toward me to emphasize his words. "You needed rescuing and I

need a decoy; you got what you needed, and now it's my turn!"

"I only got half of what I needed," I pointed out, resting my elbow on

my thigh and my chin in my palm. "When it came time to discuss C & Q

data, you were much too busy. If the kind of help that buys you is what

you're looking for, I'll be glad to supply it. If not, you've got a

problem."

"How would you like to spend the rest of this crisis time in irons?" he

asked, growling again. "I promised to reprogram your course computer as

soon as I find the time, and I will. I saved your life, and I'll see to

it that you don't have to go searching for where you came from. What

more do you want?"

"What more do you have?" I muttered, playing smart to cover the tiny,

tingling doubts I was beginning to feel. I'd pushed Dameron as hard as

I'd been able, expecting to see the iron fist flash out of the velvet

glove, ready to do some fisting myself on my way out of there, but it

hadn't happened. Instead of threatening me

Dameron was pleading, and not a word about holding back the information

I needed! I leaned all the way back in the lump chair, silently cursing

the roll of the dice. Coersion I can understand and cope with; frantic

requests for help are harder to ignore.

"I think I can understand how you feel," I heard after a long minute,

looking up to see softer, more compassionate eyes on me. "You're a long

way from home and want to start back, without any twisting, dangerous

side trips. In your place I'd feel the same, but Diana-I can't afford

to put myself in your place. Too many lives are hanging in the balance,

and I have no one else to turn to."

"I see you've finally remembered my name," I commented, despite his

sober expression. "What if I still say no?"

"You mean, what will I do to get even?" he asked, looking straight at

me for another five seconds before raising his eyes to the blue ceiling

and folding his hands behind his head. "I could always string you up by

the thumbs, but I'd have to wait until an overhead hook became

available. Putting in new hooks always loses us some air. Once you're

strung up I could light a fire under your bare feet, but the automatic

extinguishers don't like open fires. Skinning you alive might do the

trick, but. . ."

"Okay, okay, enough," I interrupted, showing my palm to admit surrender

before his list got to be 'phone book length. "If you were trying to

tell me you're beyond that sort of thing, I got the point. The only

thing I still don't know is what you're not beyond."

"I'm not beyond dickering, if that's 'what you meant," he answered,

back to looking at me. "Motivation is important when it comes to

survival, and saving your favorite neck isn't always enough. I've

always found bonuses helpful."

"I don't expect to hang around long enough to spend a bonus," I

snorted, dismissing the suggestion with a wave of my hand. "And

survival has always been a good enough motivation for me on its own."

"Then you are experienced in handling dangerous situations," he said softly, a grin spreading across his face. I suppose something in my

expression showed what I thought of his methods of data-gathering; he

wiped the grin fast and leaned forward in his chair. "I wasn't digging

for that, but I'm glad to have the reassurance - since you're not

admitting or denying anything. What I meant to say was, the bonuses I

offer aren't in the form of legal tender. I try to offer things that

would not normally be for sale at any price."

"Like what?" I asked, more curious than hooked. I still couldn't

generate much enthusiasm for the idea of working for him. I had things

at home waiting to be done - like a recently scheduled second meeting

with Radman the slaver.

"Oh, items like certain souvenirs," Dameron drawled, his grin back

again. "The Tildorani have turned carving into a high art, but they

aren't in a position to do any exporting. Some of my people are

collectors, and wouldn't be able to pick, choose and carry off any of

the better items without field team help. And then there are those who

do more-personal-collecting, for any of a variety of reasons. Even if

the reason happens to be vanity, all they have to do is collect the

necessary number of points."

I could feel the hook being dangled more enticingly in front of me, but

I couldn't make out the nature of the bait. I could see I was supposed

to ask what points and what they bought, allowing ignorance and

innocence to draw me closer to the hidden barbs, but that wasn't my

first time at dickering. I glanced around, as though unconsciously

trying to check the time, a shadow of impatience to the movement, and

Dameron suddenly lost his drawl.

"Not all of our people have original Absari blood," he said. "Those who

do substitution work - or decoy work, if you'd like to put it like that

- and have to be changed here in the base, have the option of keeping

the features they've been given if they want them. Those team members

earn one point for each job, and it takes three points to buy the

option, but I won't ask the same price of you. Do this job for me and

Bellna's looks are yours to keep or give back, whichever way you want

it. She's the most attractive humanoid female I've ever seen; if she

weren't, I would not have brought the point up. You're pretty enough in

your own right, girl, but Bellna's one of those one-in-a-million

special cases. Can you sit there and tell me you're not tempted even a

little?"

I sat there and didn't tell him anything at all. Truthfully I was far

from unhappy with my own looks, notwithstanding the tact that no one

would ever consider me beautiful. How I looked was part of who I was to

me, and I was satisfied with the whole and not particularly anxious to

change it. The only thing that kept me from refusing outright was that

Dameron was right: Bellna was spectacularly beautiful, and I remembered

my earlier thoughts on the subject. If the change would benefit my job

and make life - and surviving - easier, saying no could be the

stupidest thing I'd ever done. I grappled with the pros and cons as I

brushed my lips with a strand of hair, then focused on Dameron again

with one of the more cogent cons.

"You're asking an impossibility," I said, not terribly unhappy with the

conclusion. "Your field people know all about what's going on, know the

people involved, the language, the terrain, friend from foe. I'd have

to be crazy to involve myself in a project with that many minuses on my

side, as crazy as you are for suggesting it. I don't mind improvising

when a situation calls for it, but I have to have something to

improvise with."

XXX "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that objection," Dameron said, his expression serious. "It means you're finally thinking about

the project as something to be thought about, not just something to

reject out of hand. But I'm equally as glad to say that your objection

is invalid. How do you think my field people learn what they need to

know? Do you think I can afford to have them waste desperately needed

working time cramming discs of information or groping around blind

until they learn what's what? They're given what they need to know just

the way you were given our language, quickly and painlessly. We even

have a tape of Bellna's persona for you."

"What do you mean, a 'tape' of her 'persona'?" I interrupted the flow,

trying to ignore the diminishing of my resolve. Dameron with his

fascinating new ways of doing things was doing a lot better job of

hooking me than the usual bonus he'd promised. When it comes to

curiosity, cats have nothing on me.

"We have a copy of Bellna's memories and personality," Dameron said,

really warming to his subject. "Once it's impressed on your mind it

will act like a reference library, telling you how to deal with the

people you meet, whether or not Bellna knows them, how she usually acts

with them if she does know them, and what would and would not be in

character for her. It does more than studying her for years would, and

was taken only recently, which means it's up to date. Any more

objections?"

"Give me a minute, and I'll think of something, I muttered, turning to

stare at his impassive face. I was curious - perhaps too much s0 - but

I was still reluctant. Telling myself that going home was the smarter

move didn't help; I wanted to work with Dameron's techniques and find

out how they did. Against that, a two-month trip filled with boredom

didn't have a chance, especially when I might get home to find that

someone else had settled Radman's hash in my absence. Something in the

back of my head was telling me I was putting my foot in it clear up to

the shoulder, but I've never been very good at taking advice to be

sensible, even when the advice is my own. My fingers drummed on the arm

of the lump chair with a monotonous sound, but Dameron didn't let it go

on for long.

"Your minute's up," he announced, no real push in his voice. "If you

need another one, by all means take it. I'd hate to have you think I'm

rushing you into anything."

"That sounds like a suitable epitaph," I nodded, bringing my eyes back

to him. "'At least she wasn't rushed.' How far would I have to restrain

my instincts for self-preservation?"

"Any time it's a choice between you or the other guy, I expect you to

give me the time to think up a better epitaph than the one you just

mentioned," he answered with a faint grin. "As long as you don't use

Tildor as a private hunting preserve, you have everyone's blessing in

staying alive. I'm still not trying to rush you, but my people will

need some time to check your Healing tolerance and calibrate their

doses and instrumentation. If we're going to move on this, we'll have

to do it soon."

His eyes were calm and his big body was relaxed in the squarish chair,

but two of his fingers rubbed against one another in a gesture I was

sure he was unaware of I stared at him another ten seconds, but only to

add to his inner turmoil; I was sure he knew I couldn't resist his

bait; that was why he'd dangled it.

"It really would never do to make your people do their calibration in a

hurry," I said at last, drawling the way he'd drawled earlier. Just

remember: if I get killed, I'll never speak to you again."

He let out a whoop of victory and bounced out of his chair, leaned down to grab my wrists, then hauled me to my feet.

"We'll get right over there," he grinned, pounding me on the back in a

happy, enthusiastic way. If I hadn't been in decent shape, his friendly

approval would have done a lot toward flattening me. "Let's just-"

His words cut off as his terminal signaled for attention. He turned

toward it and impatiently tapped a couple of keys, giving me the chance

to flex the muscles in my shoulder that he'd been playing pat-a-cake

on. Symbols appeared on the screen, and when Dameron saw them he

muttered under his breath, then tapped another couple of keys.

"Post 7 needs help of some sort," he said, turning hack to me and

rubbing his broad face in frustration. "I want you turned over to the

clinicians now, not after 7's endless explanations, but you can't go

yourself\a133 I'll have to send Valdon with you."

"Is that supposed to be reassurance or a threat?" I asked, letting

Dameron take my arm and steer us both toward the door. "It does help in

one way, I guess. With Valdon there, I won't have to look for any

enemnues among your clinicians."

"Valdon's not your enemy," Dameron said, a touch of annoyance in his

voice as the door slid open in front of us. "He was trying to help you,

and you made him look foolish. You can't blame him for being angry."

"Sure I can," I answered, looking up at him. "Before rushing in to help

someone, it's smart to find out whether or not they need your help, and

also whether or not they want it. Valdon strikes me as the sort who

never bothers asking those questions when a female's involved, and that

means he deserves whatever he gets. There are one or two of us who can

take care of ourselves."

"He wasn't raised to look at k like that," Dameron said, heading us

across the corridor, but more slowly. "He was taught to be courteous to

and considerate of women, and that's what he is. He wasn't trying to

insult you; he was just trying to keep you from being afraid of him.

For some reason, a good number of women are uncomfortable around him."

"It's that hunter's look in his eyes," I said, stopping a couple of

feet from the door Dameron was moving toward so that I could chuckle

softly. "I knew it was something that gave him trouble, but it's not a

trait he can change. So women run screaming from him, do they?"

"They don't run screaming from him," Dameron came back, trying to be

stern, but he couldn't hold the look and meet my grin at the same time.

he came up with his own chuckle and grin, then shook his head. "They

start out being attracted to him, but as soon as he tries to return

their interest, they suddenly remember appointments elsewhere. I didn't

believe it happened to him all the time at home until it happened once

out here. The field team girls don't usually react to him that way, but

they're not in the base much."

"Poor baby," I commiserated, still laughing softly. "He leads a rough

life. All right, I'll try not to be so hard on him. I'll give him as

much elbow room as he gives me."

"That sounds fair enough," Dameron grinned, then gestured toward the

door in front of us. "He ought to be in there."

We started toward the door again and it slid open, showing an office

just like Dameron's except for the presence of Valdon. The big man sat

in his own squarish chair staring down at a complex map projected on

his cube, but when he saw us he reached behind him to his terminal and

keyed the cube blank again.

"Valdon, we have our decoy Bellna," Dameron announced, leaving me a

couple of steps inside the doorway to walk closer to the other man

alone. "I was about to take her to the clinicians, but post 7 called

in, so you'll have to take her there for me. Tell them she's a native of a new associated world, so they need to calibrate her completely.

And I want everything given to her at once, as quickly as her system

can take it. We'll need all the time we can get for briefing and

planning sessions.

"And for laying in a supply of hankies for her tears," Valdon said,

barely glancing at me as he stood up. "Who would you like assigned to

the job of holding her hand and wiping her nose?"

"Make it someone interesting," I said before Dameron could vocalize the

annoyance on his face. "It would be a pleasant change to meet someone

interesting around here."

"That's enough out of both of you," Dameron growled, glaring first at

me and then at Valdon. "I don't have the time to referee the tiffs

between two small children. You both have jobs to do, and I expect to

see them done without bickering."

"I think you're making a mistake, but you're in charge." Valdon

shrugged, turning his head to look straight at me. "If I'm wrong I'll

apologize, but I don't think she can handle it. Odds are she's never

touched a sword in her life."

"Well, I may not be all that capable, but I'm willing to learn," I

purred, meeting his dark-eyed stare with a small smile. "Why don't you

find us a couple of weapons and give me some lessons?"

"If you did that, you'd be the biggest fool I know," Dameron said,

interrupting what would probably have been agreement from Valdon.

"Can't you see she'd never have made the offer if she wasn't pretty

damned good with a blade? You refused to give me a straight answer

before, girl, but I want one now. How much experience have you had with

swordplay?"

"Enough," I answered, looking at Dameron as I folded my arms. "If you

have any doubts, I won't feel insulted if you withdraw your offer.

There are other things I'd rather be doing."

"I'm not withdrawing anything," Dameron growled, annoyed at the way I'd

answered him - or not answered him. "As I said before, I don't have the

time for this. Valdon, get her over to the clinicians."

With that he stomped out of the room, barely giving the door time to

slide out of his way. He seemed to do a lot of that, playing chicken

with doors, and as sight of his back disappeared, I wondered what

happened when he lost.

"It seems I have my orders," Valdon's deep voice came, and I turned my

head back to see him staring at me. "You'd better be as good as you

think you are. Tildor is no place for beginners."

"No one's as good as they think they are," I came back, noticing again

how really attractive he was. He stood with wide arms crossed over a

broad chest, lean-hipped, longish black hair a perfect match to the

hunter's look in his unwavering, black-eyed stare. He was still annoyed

with me, and would probably go on being annoyed if he was waiting for

me to get flustered. It was too bad, really, but he just wasn't my

type.

"At least that's one point in your favor," he granted, moving closer to

look down at me with slightly less annoyance. "You're not a braggart.

Talkers don't live very long on Tildor, and this project is too

important to gamble on hot air."

"Approval at last," I sighed, folding my hands as I looked up at him

adoringly. "I think I'm in love."

"Very funny," he growled, turning me away from him by the shoulders and

pushing me toward the door. Valdon still didn't appreciate my sense of

humor, and that was it as far as friendly conversation between us went,

which was fine with me. I was a lot more interested in Dameron's procedures than in Valdon, and as the clinicians bustled me away from

him, the last glance I got of his expression said that he knew it.

Chapter 3

I awoke on the ftirTy couch-bed a second time, this time seeing a soft

light glowing in the room, and this time knowing exactly where I was. I

took a deep breath and found that I was braced for pain, but there was

none. No pain, no discomfort, just a feeling of health and vitality and

well-being. I hadn't expected the aftermath to be that easy, not after

seeing the array of equipment the clinicians had had. I'd been weighed

and measured and probed and scanned and practically turned inside out,

and then I'd been put to sleep. That last step had taken longer than it

should have, I was told, simply because my readings were different from

everyone else's, different in a way difficult to measure. They'd had to

do a lot of delicate recalibration before they were ready to start on

me, and after all that build-up I'd missed the procedures themselves by

being unconscious. I wasn't awake long enough or fully enough to be

annoyed, but once I was I expected to be.

I sat up on the couch-bed and ran my fingers tilmugh my hair, wondering

if my last thought made any sense at all. Despite the feeling of

glowing good health I was also feeling faintly fuzzy around the edges,

as though I'd just been roused out of a very deep sleep. The room light

brightened to a point just short of eye-hurting, letting me look down

at myself and the delicate pink, slim-strapped body suit someone had

put on me. The clinicians must have thought my sense of modesty needed

protecting, but all the suit's presence did was increase my annoyance.

I never slept in anything, and if they'd had the good sense to ask

first - The argumentative train of thought was ended completely by the

appearance of a thick lock of hair falling over my left shoulder. It

wasn't as though that was the first time it had ever happened, but the

lock of hair was red! I grabbed more hair and brought it around to see

it, and it was red, too! The excitement rising in me said I may have

accepted Dameron's procedures intellectually, but emotionally I hadn't

believed they could do it. I put my hands to my face, trying to detect

differences, but didn't know my own features well enough that way to

make anything out. What I needed was a mirror.

I stood up fast and looked around, but all the salmon and green room

held was what it had held before: the couch-bed, the round thing next

to it, and a lump chair. I was about to go storming out into the

corridor yelling for Dameron, but the need to search the salmon-colored

panels for the one that was the door brought me up short. Dameron had

done so much with the wall panels that it would be stupid of me not to

try them first. I strode over and began touching them here and there,

finding absolutely nothing until my fingers slid over an invisible,

yielding patch. A door popped open to my left, allowing access to a

narrow space between the wall - and on the back of the door was a fulllength

mirror.

Looking into the mirror was something of a shock.

Have you ever had your hair cut or styled in a way totally different

from the way you usually wear it? Do you remember your first conviction

that the face you stared at wasn't your own and that it would take a

while to get used to your new image? My eyes found Bellna staring back

at me, her face even more beautiful than the photo had shown it to be,

her blue eyes sparkling with life and an impish delight, her bright red

hair falling in thick cascades around her face and shoulders. My face

and shoulders. I shook my head, trying to break away from the sense of unreality, finding myself even more confused when the image in the

mirror did the same.

Okay, let's bring this back down to earth, I told myself firmly,

straightening myself and the mirror image at the same time. That's what

you look like now, and you'd better get used to it. Have you ever seen

a complexion that flawless? Such perfectly arched eyebrows? Such real,

true beauty? You know you haven't, and now it's yours; how about

getting started on using it?

I let a smile come through and the mirror face glowed with warmth and

invitation, so softly sensual that the smile suddenly disappeared and

the wide blue eyes widened even farther. A smile on that face was a

devastating weapon, one I'd be smart to take it easy with. I didn't

want to spend my time on Tildor fighting off rape attempts, especially

since Bellna's face went so well with my body and hers. The girl and I

were almost equally well-endowed, the only major changes intended

having been to lighten my skin to a red-head's shade, and change all of

my bodily hair to match hers. Luckily, Bellna was a big girl, only

about two inches less than my own height, which meant it hadn't been

necessary to shorten me. The clinicians had discussed the point at some

length, and practical considerations had dictated their final decision.

My reflexes and sense of balance were adjusted to my body as it was;

shortening me would throw off that adjustment, possibly fatally if I

couldn't readjust before I had to defend myself from serious attack. It

would be a lot simpler putting me in flat-heeled boots rather than the

high-heeled ones Bellna wore, thereby adjusting the height difference

painlessly. I moved my body slowly in the mirror, glad it was more

recognizable than my face even if it was covered by that ridiculous

bodysuit. The pink of it went terribly with my hair, and I saw my new

face frown as the thought came that the thing was much too revealing

and immodest. Whoever had put me in it should have been whipped for the

insult, to do such a thing to someone such as I! How dare they treat me

so, as though I were a peasant girl or a slave! Who would dare!

"What's the matter, don't you like it?" a voice came suddenly from

behind me, and I whirled around while blinking back clouds of highly

incensed anger. Valdon stood just inside the door to the corridor,

still too close to let it slide closed again behind him. He'd come in

with no more announcement than I ever got, and I was getting tired of

the intrusion.

"Next time, you'd better figure out some way of letting me know you're

out there," I said, only somewhat distracted by the sweet, girlish

tones I'd produced that just had to be Bellna's voice. I value my

privacy, and have been known to go to some lengths to ensure it.

"You can worry about your privacy once this is all over," he countered,

taking a few steps forward and folding his arms across his chest. "In

case it hasn't come through to you yet, I'm part of this project too,

but in a position just a little higher than yours. Now, what were you

doing a minute ago?"

He stood there in front of the now closed door, that unwavering stare

coming straight at me, and I suddenly realized something else about

him. It wasn't only a hunter who looked out from his eyes, it was also

a man who was used to dominating everything and everyone around him. I

hadn't seen that look often before, but I was bright enough to

recognize it - and human enough to resent it. I didn't work for Valdon

no matter what opinions he had to the contrary, and it was time he knew

it.

"None of your damned business what I was doing a minute ago," I

answered, turning back to the mirror. "You managed to find your way in here, so now let's see if you can remember the way out. If I decide I

need you for something, I'll send someone to rattle your cage.

I shook my head to move the hair back from my face, seeing, in

reflection, the way Valdon's jaw tightened in anger, the look in his

dark eyes hardening even further. he unfolded his arms and straightened

to full height, then started coming toward me.

"Now, you listen to me, you little" he began, his right hand

outstretched to wrap around my arm again, yet that was far too much. No

one had the authority to touch my person, least of all boorish louts

such as he. I turned somewhat back to him, my right side toward his

reaching one, struck upward with my arm against his to raise it, then

kicked sideways into his ribs, twisting my hip into the kick. The churl

grunted aloud with pain as he bent forward, his arms wrapped about

himself, and then he leaned upon one knee, seeking with eyes closed to

recover what breath he might. I had swiftly taken myself back a pace or

two, well prepared to continue should he show signs of further

foolishness, but then came an interruption.

"Now what are you two doing?" Dameron demanded from the doorway,

frowning at Valdon and me. I shook my head hard as I relaxed from the

standard attack-defense position I'd taken, and Valdon raised himself

to his feet, though obviously still in pain. He took a deep breath,

wincing as he did so, then made for the door as Dameron moved to one

side.

"Nothing but a small difference of opinion," he muttered as he passed

Dameron. "I'll see you later."

Dameron leaned out to watch Valdon disappear up the corridor, then came

back in to turn his sudden confusion toward me.

"I don't understand any of this," he protested, a plaintive note in his

tone. "What happened between you two this time, and where is he going?

There's a briefing scheduled for you in a little while, and I wanted

him there."

I moved my hand over the panel, closing up the mirror again, then gave

my attention to finding the closet that had been used the last time.

When I did find it and found that it had been used again; I pulled out

the jumpsuit that had been neatly hung back in place. As I began

getting into the suit, I shrugged in answer to Dameron's question.

"I don't know where he's going," I said over my shoulder, predictably

adding to Dameron's confusion. "And it's just the way he said. A small

difference of opinion."

Dameron shook his head without comment, not terribly satisfied with my

answer, but I wasn't very happy with it myself. I was trying to Tigure

out what had made me act the way I had, but the crystal-clear reasons

of a few minutes earlier had somehow clouded to total irrelevance. No

matter how annoyed I got, I wasn't in the habit of assaulting people

who weren't bent on offering me harm. Getting physical rarely does more

than cause hard feelings or create awkward, unexplainable bodies. I'd

struck out at Valdon without warning or excuse, and the action bothered

me more than any possible consequences. It wasn't like me to do

something like that, and I'd have to be careful to watch myself closely

in the future. I closed the jumpsuit with a stroke of my hand, then

went with Dameron to his briefing.

The scoutship settled to the ground in the deep black of the woods,

making no more sound than a leaf settling the same way. The night sky

was dark with racing clouds, and we nestled in the darkness, showing no

lights of our own. The hull of the small scout ship was clear all about

the pilot and me, but nothing could be seen through it from the outside. The pilot's instrument board glowed a steady, unexcited blue,

and he and I sat in silence, waiting for the agent who was supposed to

rendezvous with us.

The past few base days had been dull tripled and squared, filled with

nothing but briefing sessions. Right from the very first, the impressed

memories I'd been given had made the briefings a bore, going over and

over again points I already knew. I kept getting the urge to explode

and walk out, but I overrode that feeling. I've been invited to many

briefing sessions, but I've never purposely missed one and I never

will. When your life can depend on some insignificant little point some

bore grinds out, you learn to listen with full attention. I was told

about the political and geographical twistings and forkings, given a

list of friend and foe, filled in on plans, hopes and wishful thinking.

I was a fairly good improviser and hadn't been caught off-balance too

many times, so I wasn't worrying about the operation, but that didn't

mean I had no worries.

I'd been silently examining my inner self, and what I'd noticed about

my attitudes and reactions had not only not gone away, it had begun to

spread, coloring my thinking when I wasn't consciously willing it not

to. When someone warned me to watch out for this or that possibility, I

experienced a very strong desire to laugh at him and tell him just how

good I was. That part of it scared me more than the presence of a knife

at my throat would have; thinking you're the best and smartest around

is the first step toward a messy ending. Over and over I caught myself

mentally strutting around, discounting advice even before I'd heard it,

minimizing the plottings of opponents. I kept telling myself that it

was only a slight aberration, a weird reaction from having been alone

so long, thinking myself finished, and then suddenly finding myself

saved. Relief can do strange things to people, and as soon as the shock

or whatever it was passed, I'd be my old, practical self again. I told

that to myself often, and hoped that I wasn't conning myself.

The woods around us were thick and old, the black shadow leaves swaying

in a rhythm that had been known forever. I couldn't feel what was

moving them, but I could see its passage, and I recalled what the woods

were like during the daylight hours, when I had ridden them with my

escort. My escort had been large, of course, as befitted a princess,

and they had been ever alert to keep harm from me. My ladies had

disliked riding the woods as often as I did, finding the experience

uncomfortable in the extreme, therefore did I ever insist upon their

accompanying me. It was necessary to teach them that my needs and

desires were all-important, theirs nothing but ignorable whim. Once, to

punish them for daring to beg to be excused, I picnicked for a very

long time with the captain of my guard, allowing all of my escort the

time to carry my three ladies off into the woods. I knew they and the

others of my ladies had been taken into the woods before by certain

members of my escort, yet never had all of them taken only three. I

felt the punishment would do well for them, and when they were later

returned to me, tears staining their cheeks, I considered the matter

properly seen to. Thereafter they recalled that I was a princess and

they were not. It was a - I broke off the thought fast and shook my

head, forcing the rambling back from wherever it had come. Bellna's own

neighborhood seemed to have triggered her memories, and it wasn't

taking me long to discover that I didn't like her very much. I moved

around in my seat, ignoring the questioning look I was getting from the

pilot, and that reminded me of the other questioning looks I'd been

getting lately - or maybe "questionable" would be a better word. Not

long after the briefings had started, Valdon had shown up and put himself in a quiet corner, listening but not contributing. No one had

questioned his presence so I couldn't very well object, but he'd spent

most of his time staring at me with no expression on his face. Normal

staring doesn't bother me a bit, but there was something about his

stare that rubbed me the wrong way, something behind it that primed me

like a high explosive. I gritted my teeth and stuck it out during the

briefings, but made sure to be nowhere near him afterward. The new,

touchy part of me felt satisfaction' over what I had done to him and

was more than willing to have me do it again, but there was no sense in

adding complications. Dameron was trying to minimize possible trouble

spots in the operation, and I had decided to try doing the same.

Although nothing but a sprinkling of stars relieved the darkness

outside, the planetary time wasn't all that tat\a153?? late. Just then

I was waiting to be collected by one of the resident agents of Tudor,

who would escort me - or, rather, the Princess Belln - to a hunting

lodge not far from Havro's keep. The lodge was sometimes used by

certain of Havro's guests, but just then it would be empty. The agent

and I would spend the night, and in the morning my secret mercenary

escort would pick me up. No one knew about this secret leave-taking but

Prince Clero and his cronies, who had been told soon enough to target

their plans against my traveling group, but not soon enough to send

riders against the lodge. I'd be able to get one night's uninterrupted

sleep before the fun began, and after that it would be catch as catch

can.

I sighed as I thought about the plans that had been made for after the

attack. They all hinged on whether or not I was still breathing, of

course, but assuming I was, I was to dump my escort and then head

south. Once I had put a lot of emptiness between me and other people a

scout ship would pick me up, guided in by the beacon that had been

implanted somewhere in my body. Just where that beacon was I had no

idea; there wasn't a mark or scar on me. As a matter of fact, one or

two scars that I'd had for a while had also disappeared without a

trace, all of it due to the process known as Healing. I wanted to spend

a lot of time thinking about that, but in the middle of Dameron's

precious project I couldn't spare the attention. Once it was over,

though.

The pilot next to me had been helping me watch the darkness, but he'd

been using his instruments instead of his eyesight. He stiffened

suddenly just before I caught a hint of movement about twenty-five feet

from where we sat, but the stiffness left him almost immediately and

his hand relaxed away from his sidearm. His panel light glowed a cool

blue, telling us my date had arrived.

Four dark, cloaked figures came up to the scouter, one slightly ahead

of the other three, all of them waiting for the pilot to activate the

access release. When the panel next to my right arm slid aside I

gathered my cape together, then climbed out into the night. The figure

closest to the scouter took my arm to help me down, then all five of us

moved back about ten feet from the scouter and watched it rise

soundlessly into the air, gliding higher and higher, becoming harder

and harder to see. In no more than seconds it had blended with the dark

gray clouds sliding through the skies, totally gone from mere mortal

senses. I took a deep breath to drown the sudden, childish feeling of

abandonment I was abruptly filled with, and only then discovered that

the hand that had taken my arm hadn't let go again. I tugged slightly

to show that I was ready to be turned loose, but the hand on my arm

only tightened.

"Have no fear, you will not be harmed," a gruff, impatient voice came from the shadow figure beside me, speaking the Tilddrani language.

"These-ah-guardsmen - and I will escort you to your destination,

Princess. During this short journey, we require no converse from you."

It wasn't hard to tell that I'd just been ordered to keep quiet, or

that the other three men were Absari agents posing as Tildorani. The

Bellna memories I'd been given identified the voice as belonging to

Grigon, Prince Havro's chief adviser, but the tone and sense of command

weren't part of those memories. Grigon usually used smoothly

professional calm on Bellna, and I couldn't see any reason to change

that.

"Converse is unnecessary when issuing commands, Grigon," I told him

coldly, resisting the pull that was trying to take me deeper into the

surrounding trees. "You and these others may indeed escort me, yet only

in the manner befitting my station. Release my arm, and begin such

actions at once."

"Your station during the longer journey before you remains as yet

undetermined," the Grigon-shadow growled, obviously displeased with my

retort. "Should it be necessary for the exalted Princess Bellna to

adopt the actions and mannerisms of a peasant girl to escape her

father's enemies, it is best that she be fully prepared to do so. This

walk will begin to prepare her."

His grip tightened even more on my arm, and then I was yanked along so

hard I nearly went down from the pull. I felt outrage and shock that a

servant like Grigon would act that way with me, then impatiently pushed

those feelings aside. The reaction was Bellna's rather than mine, just

as most of my previous speech had been. I wasn't used to keeping the

new set of memories and personality from affecting my own, and the lack

had already begun making trouble. I can't say I enjoyed the way Grigon

was manhandling me through the windy dark, but getting up on a high

horse wasn't the way to stop it. His dialogue had told me we were in

enemy territory and had to watch what we said, so it was hardly the

place to teach him the right way to greet a fellow conspirator. It

would be smarter to wait until we got where we were going and could

talk freely - even though ignoring the annoyance was hard. I got a left

handed grip on the cape and long-skirted dress I was wearing, got them

out of the way of the hurried steps being forced on me, and just

followed quietly - if not meekly along;

It took at least twenty minutes to reach our destination. Grigon

started out at a good clip that had me almost running beside him, but

we weren't following a road or even a trail. Continuing on like that in

the dark would have run us into a tree or a ground depression in no

time, and the man knew it. He slowed almost at once and gestured one of

the other three into leading our little parade, giving him the job of

traversing the terrain before we set our dainty boots on it. The chosen

one took over the job of point without comment, leaving the other two

to follow along behind. We moved a little faster then, but not so fast

that I had trouble keeping up. I hate wearing skirts, most especially

long skirts, but awkward or not, that's what I had to work with. All

Tildorani women dressed that way, even underage princesses who had been

given their way much too often in life.

The wind whipped all our capes around, and the dark was so deep under

the trees that we wouldn't have been able to see the moons even if

there hadn't been clouds. I didn't know we had reached where we were

going until I saw the small clearing we had entered, and looked around

the side of the big man in front of me to see the large, wooden twostory

we were approaching. Bellna had never been to the hunting lodge,

and I could feel the sense of reserved curiosity that sight of it brought to the part that was her. She knew that her father had used it

and f6r that reason it was somewhat acceptable, but other than that it

was much too low-class to suit her tastes. Although I hadn't exactly

been raised in a barn myself, her attitude made me want to shake my

head. Snobs have their place in life, I suppose, and I'm just being

short-sighted in not being able to see where.

A dark shadow stepped into sight on the other side of the clearing,

grew an arm to gesture with, then melted back into the trees it had

come from. Grigon did nothing to acknowledge the ahead signal; he

spoke, instead, to the three men with us.

"The lodge remains secure," he said, his gruff voice low enough to

carry no farther than the men around us.

"I will take the girl inside and remain to instruct her. For you, the

others do not exist. Guard us as though you were alone."

The three gave no vocal agreement, but there was no doubt they'd follow

orders. Two of them moved away from us toward the sides of the lodge as

Grigon pulled me toward the wide porch that fronted the place, and by

the time we reached the door the two were gone from sight and hearing.

The third had let us pass him and then had followed, but once he

reached the steps leading up to the porch be stopped and turned around,

his back t6 the lodge as he faced outward. I caught a glimpse of a

sheathed sword as he turned to take his post, and then Grigon had

pulled me through the door he had opened, into the dimly lit interior.

The door was closed again with a firm click, and at long last my arm

was released from capture. I took the opportunity to rub it as I looked

around, squinting only a little at the increased light as Grigon turned

the lamp higher.

The word "rustic" must have been coined for the room we stood in. The

log walls were well made and properly sealed, but were totally

undecorated except for the bows and spears hanging on two of them,

mostly around the two closed doors. A big stone fireplace dominated

another of the walls, with four heavy, handmade chairs standing not far

from the crackling blaze someone had started on its hearth. The only

wall that wasn't bare was the front one containing windows; heavy brown

drapes covered them so that they couldn't be seen from inside. The

wooden floors were as bare as most of the walls, but the whole place

was neat and entirely lacking that empty, untenanted feel that seldomused

places usually had. I unhooked my cape and began to slide it off

my shoulders, already feeling the difference the fire made after the

cool of the night; as I did so, the man called Grigon stopped prowling

around and. came over to give me the benefit of his expertise.

"There was no need whatsoever for you to attempt so superior a manner,"

he said, unhooking his own cape and pulling it off as he glared at me.

He was a tall man with a thin face and a perpetually stooped look,

wearing black pants and boots and a wide-sleeved, plain white shirt.

"You were commanded to silence, and silent you should have remained.

Such behavior was unprofessional and the height of stupidity. It will

not be forgotten."

"How good of you to greet me so warmly," I drawled, hanging my cape

over my left arm with a comradely smile. He was still using the

Tildorani tongue, so I did the same. "Your graciousness will be a great

comfort to me during my sojourn here."

"Your manner remains entirely unacceptable," he growled, a faint flush

of anger tingling his smooth-shaven cheeks. "It is neither the youthful

imperiousness of the princess, nor the carefully respectful response of

a peasant girl. Do you think yourself in the midst of a female groupsewing,

that you behave so? Do you seek to nullify our careful planning?"

"It is scarcely possible for me to nullify your superior planning from

this room," I came back, finding it impossible to keep the dryness from

my voice. "I would, however, appreciate being informed concerning the

reason for your having twice referred to the possibility of my being

presented as a peasant girl. I was given the impression in base that I

was to be the Princess Bellna alone."

"Guard your unthinking tongue!" he snapped, the look in his dark eyes

sharpening. "Though this lodge is secure, you are not again to refer to

'base'! Also, it is not for you to question what role you will play!

Should we think it necessary that you be disguised as a peasant, you

will obey our orders without question - if such a difficult undertaking

is not beyond your abilities! You stand dressed in the clothing of a

princess; remove it and show me the peasant girl I may require."

His voice had grown cold and haughty, a Tildorani male giving orders to

a lowly female. My temper flared in response to his attitude, but my

own reactions were sweet calm compared to the outrage coming from the

Bellna personality. No one spoke to a princess like that, and she

wasn't about to stand for it.

"How dare you!" I found myself hissing, fists clenched as I leaned

forward toward the man not far from me. "Is it now that you will

overstep yourself, peasantish servant? Am I now to be able to speak to

my father, giving him proof of your lack of respect for me? Till now he

has laughingly dismissed my protests; there will be little laughter

caused by this! Show me to my rooms at once, and perhaps you will

retain your head when your man - hood has been taken!"

I looked coldly upon the wretch, seeing his frown and the first signs

of apprehension. Surely did he know that my words had not been idle,

yet rather than attempt apology he abruptly straightened from the stoop

that had ever been a part of him, strode across the distance separating

us, then grasped my arms. He shook me with strength, shocking me with

such unbelievable behavior, and I didn't know what the hell was going

on.

"Snap out of it!" Grigon ordered, clear worry in his eyes as he shook

me again. "That's the second time you've done it, and this time I'm

sure. Cut it out!"

"Cut what out?" I growled, raising both fists in front of me and then

snapping them outward to break his hold. He had shifted to base

language, and that seemed to be adding to my confusion. "What the hell

are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about that speech you just gave me," he answered, his eyes

narrowed as he looked at me. He seemed both larger and younger now that

he'd dropped his roll - and a lot less belligerent. "Bellna has

resented Grigon's influence over her father for a long time, and she

and he have had more than one venomous exchange like that. That wasn't

you pretending to be Bellna; that was Bellna herself."

"Don't be ridiculous," I scoffed, picking up my cape and then looking

around for some place other than the floor to put it down. "Just

because I don't have the hang of using her persona yet doesn't mean

there's anything strange going on. Once I get a little practice in, her

personality won't jump out every time she gets upset."

"You're missing the point," he said, his touch on my arm bringing my

eyes back to his sober face. "I don't know where you got the idea that

practice has anything to do with it, but her personality isn't supposed

to jump out at all. It's an unliving, unaware reference file, not

another person inside your head to be fought with. Does Dameron know

about this?" I stared at him for a minute without answering, feel-mg even more

confused, then finally shook my head.

"How can Dameron know about it when I don't know about it?" I asked,

searching his face for signs that he was putting me on. "Are you trying

to tell me that impression isn't supposed to work this way? That this

sort of thing-whatever it is - has never happened to anyone else?"

"Not until now." he took a deep breath as he looked away from me, let

it out slowly, then brought his eyes back. "It's a good thing I had a

communicator installed here, just in case. I'd better call Dameron."

"And tell him what?" I demanded, stopping Grigon as he began turning

away from me. "That we scrap the whole project because of one minor

unexpected complication? A suggestion like that is guaranteed to make

him love you forever."

"One minor complication?" he echoed, outrage thick in his tone. "You've

got a living, thinking Bellna sharing your head and body, taking over

whenever she pleases, and you call that minor? Has anyone ever told you

you have a gift for understatement?"

"She doesn't take over whenever she pleases," I denied sourly, deciding

I might as well hang onto the damned cape for a while. "She's been able

to take over to a small extent because I didn't know she wasn't

supposed to be able to. From now on I'll make sure I stay permanently

in the driver's seat."

"Oh, sure you will," he agreed with heavy sarcasm, turning all the way

back to me and folding his arms. "You'll have no trouble at all in

making a fifteen-year-old brat do things your way while Clero's men

close in from all sides. They won't distract you from matching wills

with her, and she won't distract you from keeping yourself unsplited.

It's done all the time."

"If it isn't done all the time, how do you know how hard it will be?" I

countered, getting more and more annoyed at his pessimism. "And I

thought this project was a top-priority, die-before-failing necessity.

Someone listening to you would think you were looking for a reason to

call it off."

I was trying to put him on the defensive, trying to take his mind off

the single track it had been clinging to, but the man was no child or

beginner. Instead of getting insulted or trying to justify his

position, he let his eyes grow cold.

"You're right about this being a top-priority project," he said,

staring down at me. "The part you are wrong about is thinking we'd

throw away the life of one of our own people just to see our purpose

accomplished. I know Dameron picked you because he thought you had a

much better than even chance of surviving this mess; I also know he'll

want to hear my reasons for thinking you won't survive. Want to bet he

will love me forever?"

He stared at me for a minute after that, giving me a chance to make the

sucker bet if I was foolish enough to do so, but I knew better than to

waste the effort. The Absari base commander would side with him, not

with me. After the minute he unfolded his arms and began to turn away

again, but I couldn't let him go through with it.

"Grigon, don't call Dameron," I sighed, giving up my previous attempts

to buffalo him. "You don't have to tell me he'll cancel the project. I

know he will."

"Don't you think he should?" the man called Grigon asked, his tone more

reasonable than argumentative. "I can't imagine what could have gone

wrong with the impression, but it's bound to make your role five times

more difficult, if not downright impossible. Your wanting to go with it

tells me you're probably a suicide buff." "Sorry, but suicide's not my thing," I denied, shifting that stupid

cape to my other arm. "I'm on the inside with this problem, and I'm

telling you that it honestly doesn't feel as terrible as you're

describing it. I've never walked away from an assignment already

committed to in my entire career, not unless there were reasons a lot

more compelling than some stray thoughts in my head. Just how positive

are you that your guess is better than mine?"

He hesitated visibly then, considering my question, but logic was on my

side. No one can be an expert on something that's never happened

before, and Grigon couldn't pretend that he was.

"I can't possibly be positive, and you know it," he said, ending the

brief pause, annoyance back in his voice and eyes. "What makes you so

sure that you have the way of it? If you find out I'm right with your

last living thought, do you intend sending your spirit back to let me

say I told you so? I won't find it nearly as satisfying as you seem to

think I will."

"Why do you insist on seeing me dead?" I demanded, trying to ignore the

severe adult-child overtones that kept escaping his control. "You said

yourself that Dameron would not have sent me if he didn't think I could

handle it. I'd like to know what makes you believe I can't."

"Maybe it's the fact that I know this world and I don't know you," he

said, rubbing his face with one hand, the vexation in his voice

stronger. "We've got to settle this one way or the other tonight,

before we commit to this project too far to back out if it becomes

necessary. Come with me."

He turned and strode to the left-hand door, threw it open, then waited

for me to follow as he'd ordered. When I got there and looked past him

I saw a dim, narrow back hall with two more closed doors straight

ahead, and a heavy staircase to the left. I wondered why my guide had

stopped at the threshold rather than leading the way through, but he

didn't leave me wondering long.

"Take those stairs to the next floor and go to the last room along the

hail," he said, gesturing briefly with one hand. "I'll be there as soon

as I report your safe arrival, and then we can discuss the problem

until we both know where we stand."

I hesitated very briefly, trying to think of a diplomatic way of

offering to go with him while he reported my "arrival," but there

didn't seem to be one. Anything I said would translate out as not

trusting him - which was exactly the way I felt but was not an attitude

calculated to make him think more kindly about my chances of continuing

with the project. The only thing I could do was give him the chance to

blow the whistle behind my back and hope I'd raised enough doubt in his

mind to keep him from doing no more than think about it. I craned my

neck around a little more, using sightseeing to account for my silence,

then nodded as I glanced at him.

"Up to the second floor, then down to the end," I agreed, using my free

hand to get a grip on the long skirt that would have tripped me on

those stairs. "See you there."

I walked to the stairs and began climbing them with out looking back,

not even pausing when I heard the soft click of the door being closed.

There was no guarantee Grigon was on the outside of the closed door,

and I'd already cut him loose in my mind. Taking him out of the game

entirely would have been the only way of stopping him from reporting

anything he pleased, and I wasn't willing to do that. The Lord of Luck

had been good to me in my time, and the only way to repay him is to

trust him completely when none of your own efforts will do the trick.

The door at the end of the hall was not door but doors. Two beautifully carved doors stood quietly in the half-lit shadow of a single wall

candle, and opening one of them showed me a room that banished all

thoughts of rustic. A fire danced and crackled in the large marble

fireplace to the left of the doors, an occasional spark jumping out to

the wide stone apron in front of it. Beyond the apron was a single

well-padded chair standing on the beginnings of a room-wide, deepnapped

carpet in what seemed to be wine-red. All the wall space in the

room was covered with heavy cloth hangings, and ahead and to the right

was an enormous bed, canopied and curtained in the same dark red, with

another, lighter color showing faintly inside the curtains. Gold thread

picked out Prince Havro's emblem on the front curtain, a large circle

enclosing a snarling, clawing isphalgor standing on an intricately

embroidered rendition of the three letters of Havro's family name. I

could feel Bellna's recognition of her father's insignia, but it came

as something of a shock to realize that she couldn't read the letters.

Women on Tildor were kept illiterate as a matter of course, and even

Bellna's position as princess hadn't saved her from the darkness. The

background information I'd been given let me read as well as any

Tildorani male, but that was a point I'd have to keep firmly in mind.

No matter who I was on that planet, if the character was female it

would have to forget how to read.

I closed the door behind me and moved farther into the room, seeing a

large, beautifully carved wardrobe and matching bench standing to the

right of the bed. I finally got rid of the cape by dumping it on the

bench, then walked over to the wide carved screen of wood that had been

set up to the right of the wardrobe. There was faint candlelight

trickling out around its edges that made me curious, but stepping

behind it fed me a jolt of shock from the Bellna presence. The area

behind the screen was all mirrored, wall and screen alike, and thick,

soft fur pelts covered the more sedate wine-red carpeting. The area was

a slave nook, and if I'd bothered looking for them among the furs, I

probably could have found the chains. Bellna was sputtering indignantly

in my head, upset not so much by the discovery of her father's play

nest as by having to look at something that free, high-born women were

usually sheltered from. Everyone knew what men used female slaves for,

but that didn't mean it was something a well-bred woman would want to

look at!

Idly wondering if Grigon had lit the candle, I turned my head to one of

the mirrors and stared at the redheaded reflection there, consciously

swallowing down the indignation and forcing it away from me. There was

no expression on the beautiful face, but it took a minute or two for

the tension to leave the well-rounded figure dressed all in dark blue.

The effort necessary to push the Bellna presence to the back of my mind

hadn't been excessive, but a fal?nt doubt came to dance around lightly

on my nerve ends. Was I just being stubborn by insisting that I could

handle the role? Was I endangering everyone involved-as well as the

project itself-by not going straight back to base? Was Grigon right in

thinking that I couldn't fight Bellna and Clero's men both at the same

time? The hell of it was he cou~ be right, but there was no way of

telling until the time came. Did I take the chance and go on with it,

or did I opt for the cautious point of view and head on back?

A look of disgust formed on the face I was staring at, but the Bellna

presence had nothing to do with it. I was the one who felt the disgust,

and entirely with myself. The thought of something having gone wrong

with the impression didn't frighten me, not when I could regain control

so easily. I'd been in a lot hotter water that time I'd been fed an

illegal zombie drug, and hadn't been able to throw it off. The problem was that I still didn't really want to be there, and my devious mind

was digging for a way out that would free me from my commitment to

Dameron without my having to renege. Could Dameron find someone to

replace me in time to keep the project going? No. Did I take the job on

without coercion and promise to see it through? Yes. Then how about

cutting out the emoting and breast-beating - and the needling of your

co-worker and getting serious about this? I looked sternly at the

mirror image that was me and held the stare for a minute, then let a

faint grim come through. My sense of right hadn't let me allow Grigon

to send me back without an argument, but my escape reflex had almost

had me ready to accept the easy out he wanted to hand me. I'd accept

the challenge instead, and still make it home in time to vote.

"You look very much at home in there," a voice came, filled with faint

amusement. "Except for the clothes, of course. You'll have to get rid

of those."

"I wouldn't dream of usurping my host's right to initiate all actions,"

I laughed, turning to look at Grigon. "After you, my lord."

"You picked a hell of a time to be gracious," Grigon grinned, stepping

back from the end of the screen. "Come on out here and let's get

acquainted."

I followed him back out to the middle of the room, then stood watching

as he walked to the chair in front of the fire and lowered himself into

it. Aside from the bench in front of the wardrobe and the bed it was

the only place to sit, but I wasn't given my choice of the two other

locations. Grigon moved the chair so that he could see me more easily,

then gestured me closer.

"I've been thinking about our problem, and I believe have come up with

a way to settle it," he said, making himself comfortable as he looked

up at me. "It all depends on how determined you are that I'm wrong and

you're right."

"I'm very determined," I said, folding my arms as I looked down at him.

"Does your solution have anything to do with making me stand up until I

fall over?"

"In a manner of speaking it does," he said, a flicker of annoyance

showing in his eyes. "Since you seem to have slept through all the

briefing sessions you were given, let me repeat the point I thought I'd

made when you first got here: if you keep wise-cracking the way you've

been doing, you'll either outline yourself as a complete stranger and

foreigner, or end up tied to a whipping stand. You won't find either

possibility enjoyable, and the rest of us are far from eager to join

you. Do you think you can get it through your head that you're putting

our necks on the block right along with yours?"

"I'm fully aware of the fact that flip doesn't go over well on this

world," I said, feeling none of the guilt he was trying to feed me -

and trying not to feel the annoyance. "If I'd known that wise-cracking

in this lodge would put you and the others in jeopardy, I wouldn't have

done it. Please accept my apology, and also my assurance that it won't

happen again."

"You're still not funny," he growled, letting his eyes go cold as he

looked at me. "The only way I can judge how you'll act out there is by

seeing how you do in her - and so far you're not making it. It doesn't

matter whether anyone else can hear you. I can hear you.

"I didn't know I was being tested," I shrugged, still not very

impressed but finally seeing his point. "If you want to evaluate the

role I'll be playing that's another story, but bear in mind that Bellna

would not allow herself to be kept standing like this. Once I settle

into her, you'll have to vacate that chair." "Bellna might not be the only role you'll be playing," he said,

comfortably crossing his legs as he ignored my last comment. "If you

find yourself. on your own you may have to switch to being the peasant

girl we discussed earlier-with nothing of Bellna showing. Do you know

how a peasant girl on this world acts?"

"Certainly," I answered, ignoring the ripple of outrage coming from the

Bellna presence. "Do you want the peasant girl instead of Bellna?"

"I want them both," he answered flatly, locking eyes with me. "Bellna

first and then the peasant, and I want it all to be you. You'll take

your cue from the way I speak to you, and then act accordingly. If Remo

hadn't made his and Bellna's engagement official while she was still in

the Capital, I wouldn't have been able to test you as far as I think

necessary."

"I don't understand," I frowned, also not understanding the sudden

gleam in his dark eyes. "What his that got to do with anything?"

"You should know more about that than I do," he said, grinning faintly

as he got out of the chair. "When Remo made the engagement official he

was entitled to take Bellna to bed - which he did, at almost breakneck

speed. She's not a virgin any longer, which means you can be put

through the role of peasant. Peasant girls are given to men as soon as

they stop looking like boys."

I had to work at ignoring the flurry of embarrassment coming from

Bellna, but got some help at it from the part of my mind that houses

nasty suspicions. Grigon was still grinning at me, and that put a

sharper edge on it.

"Is this test the solution you came up with?" I asked, still holding

his eyes. "Set me into a convenient role, and then indulge in a little

rape? How nice that your safety can be confirmed so pleasantly."

"I thought well of the idea," he said, and then his grin hardened. "And

whatever you think about it, you'll still go along with it if you want

a piece of this project. If you can keep Bellna from taking over while

you're being treated as a peasant, I'll agree that you'll be able to do

it at any time. If you're going to lose the argument, which is the

better time: while you're being raped, or while you're being attacked?"

He stared down at me, waiting to see if I would back away from the deal

or continue arguing, but I couldn't really do either. The son of a joy

girl was right, no matter what his motivations were. If I couldn't

handle it, we were better off finding Out right then.

"A pity you didn't opt for the attack instead of the rape," I

commented, brushing at the skirt of my dress. "Let's get this over

with. I'm going to need whatever sleep I can grab."

"One must admire your self-confidence," he retorted, moving to my left,

away from the fire. "Are you always so sure that things will work out

the way you want them to?"

"I can only judge from past experience." I shrugged, turning my head to

look at him. "Since things usually do work out the way I want them to,

it's only reasonable to expect they'll continue on like that."

"For your sake, I hope they will," he said, and then his face suddenly

took on a supercilious look. "My lady Princess," he said in broad,

clipped Rimilian, sketching a stiff bow. "Pray be seated and rest

yourself the while I fetch refreshments."

"Fetch them quickly, Ruthor," I answered in Bellna's pettish private

tones, recognizing the character Grigon was imitating. Prince Ruthor

was one of Clero's sons, and he'd been ardently courting Bellna,

probably at his father's urging, before Prince Remo came on the scene.

"The journey here has positively exhausted me, and I must look an

absolute hag." "Such a thing would be impossibility," RuthorGrigon protested distandy

as I sat in the oversized chair. He had gone to one of the draped walls

and parted the drape to expose a good stock of drinkables, his back to

me as he messed and clinked. I ran my palms over the very soft leather

of the chair arms, making myself comfortable while I had the chance.

Grigon was trying to disarm m~nd the Bellna presence as well-by evoking

Ruthor, who was hardly the most capable of Clero's sons. If Ruthor got

very, very lucky, he might one day qualify for the honor of dropping

the last letter of his name, but Bellna didn't think he'd make it and

her memories forced me to agree with her. He was a stiff-necked snob

who always acted in the precisely correct manner, never speaking out of

turn, never seeking a corner where he might take me in his arms as Remo

had.

"Your drink, my lady Princess," Grigon-Ruthor announced from right in

front of me, his arm extended with a tiny, delicate glass held

carefully between his fingers. I took the glass without thanking him,

treating him like a servant the way Bellna always did, privately

cursing myself up, down and sideways. I'd almost let it happen again -

no, it had already started happening again, and the only thing that had

pulled me out of it was Grigon's interruption. I'd let my mind wander

and Bellna had immediately started to come out. Damn it! If I didn't do

any better than that, I deserved to be sent back!

"You dislike the drink?" Grigon-Ruthor's voice came, and I looked up to

see him staring down at me, a cool, distant smile on his face. "Perhaps

you would care for something less potent?"

"I am perfectly capable of drinking anything you choose, Ruthor," I

answered, bristling with insult. "I am scarcely the child you seem to

think me!"

"I see you as no less than perfect, my lady Princess," he answered with

another bow. "I recall now that it was your father the Prince who

commanded that you abstain. Forgive my poor memory, and allow me to

dispose of that for you."

He plucked the tiny glass out of my hand and turned away with it,

carrying it back to the hidden niche it came from. I let myself sputter

and oh! Just the way Bellna would have done, all the while wondering

what Grigon was up to. I wouldn't have minded swallowing that drink,

but I hadn't been given the chance to do more than look at it. I pinned

my fellow conspirator with an accusing stare as he came back toward me,

and he betrayed a well-practiced chuckle.

"Your pout is the most attractive that I have ever seen," he said,

stopping in front of me. "Should you wish it, my lady Princess, you may

climb into my lap and have a sip from my glass. Surely your father -

the Prince would have no objection to a single sip."

"How dare you speak to me so patronizingly!" I gasped, fighting both to

be Bellna and not be her. "As you clearly think me a child, Ruthor, you

may leave me at once!"

I got to my feet and stood with chin raised high, projecting all the

outraged indignation I could feel Bellna putting out. My doing what she

was feeling was like living an echo, but managing it wasn't as hard as

I'd thought it would be at first. I seemed to be getting the hang of

it, and that made me feel a good deal better.

"Ah, but I shall not leave you," Grigon-Ruthor purred, taking a step

closer to me. "And now that I think on it, you seem to be someone other

than the Princess. You wear her clothing, yet you are clearly not she.

Who are you?"

His question, coming as suddenly as it did, was more than a little

startling. Bellna recoiled in shock from a Ruthor she had never seen before, but that was only on the inside, where Grigon's careful stare

couldn't see it. Outwardly I took my cue as I was supposed to, and

looked down nervously at my hands.

"I am no one, Lord," I whispered, making sure my voice trembled. "A

poor peasant girl, wishing no more than to know the feel of her

mistress' clothing upon her skin. I would not have stolen the things. .

."

"A likely tale!" Grigon snorted, his voice still cold. "Let me see

you."

His hand came to my chin and raised my face, letting me see the gleam

in his dark eyes. I cringed back without moving out of his negligent

grasp, a trick I'd learned some years earlier, and he chuckled his

appreciation of the gesture.

"Now that I've caught you, I believe I shall make use of you," he said,

moving his hand from under my chin to touch my face. "Have you the

ability to serve me properly, girl?"

"I-I am not much used, lord," I whispered, borrowing some of Bellna's

wide-eyed, disbelieving fear. "I will serve as best I may."

"You will serve better than that," he said, his tone dry. "You may be

very sure I will see to it. Come and put yourself in my lap now."

He moved past me to reclaim the chair, then looked up as he sipped from

the wineglass he held. He'd given himself three or four times what he'd

given me, and was even getting to drink some of it. Being careful not

to jiggle his arm I climbed into his lap, feeling as ridiculous as I

always did in a situation like that. Grigon was a big man, but I'm not

what might be described as a little girl. Behind my eyes Bellna was

beginning to come out of the shock she'd felt, heavy coils of outrage

forming, almost ready to explode. I took a good grip on the rather

large reserve of single-mindedness I come equipped with, and tried to

ignore her.

"I shall now allow you the sip of wine I promised earlier," Grigon

said, his supercilious Ruthor-tones increasing in patronizing-load. I

reached for the glass he held out toward me, but he shook his head.

"Both hands, if you please, little peasant. I should dislike having the

contents of this glass emptied upon me. You have my word that I would

dislike it a very great deal."

The hardened glint in his eyes told me that he would undoubtedly use an

excuse like that to beat me, and a beating was one thing I couldn't

risk. I didn't yet have an experienced-enough hold on the Bellna

presence to believe I could hold her back during the infliction of

pain; I could finally see that what I'd done to Valdon must have been

because of the faulty impression. If Grigon hurt me and I loosened his

teeth in revenge it would be satisfying, but it would also lose me the

game.

"Now for the sip," Grigon directed once I had the glass in both hands.

he watched carefully as I took a single, undersized swallow, but didn't

see anything of Bellna's sputtering rage. Her intense feelings of

humiliation poured through me, bringing a trembling to my hands, but

the trembling was perfectly in character. The swallow of wine would awe

and impress a real peasant, who would hardly be expected to know the

vintage was just backward enough to keep it from being considered

really good. My throat swallowed and my hands trembled, but Grigon

didn't take the glass when I offered it back to him.

"You may hold that for me for the moment," he said, putting one hand on

my skirt-covered leg and looking down at my boots. "I am unaccustomed

to seeing one of your station draped about so. We will first remove

those, and then perhaps have another sip of wine." His hands went to the lacings on my hoot, and Bellna was again shocked

as well as scandalized. She was too young and inexperienced to

understand the smirking pleasure Grigon was showing in his role of

Ruthor; after all, all he was doing was taking off - It was an action

fit for a servant. I sighed to myself, thinking about groaning as well;

how would she react once she began to understand?

Grigon unlaced my hoots slowly, drew them off one at a time, then

reached out to take the wine glass from me. he had raised the bottom of

my skirt to my knees to reach the lacings, and hadn't lowered it again

after the boots were gone. He sipped at his wine as he ran one palm

over my now bare calf, and anyone who could have heard the racket in my

head would have thought he was running his hand over my naked body.

Although outraged, I did not pull the skirt back down, but couldn't

keep from shifting a little in the presence of Bellna's furious

embarrassment.

"A wench who blushes!" Grigon-Ruthor chuckled, his warm, broad hand

still moving slowly over my leg. "How delightful I find you, my young

innocent. Your times at use must have been few indeed. Take the glass

and hold it, but do not drink. Such youth and innocence must not be

wasted in a drunken stupor."

I took the glass with two hands again, finding the very real amusement

in his eyes as difficult to bear as Bellna's raving. I wasn't the

blushing type, but apparently Bellna was. I had enough time to be

grateful that Grigon didn't know me better, and then all I could do was

gasp and try not to spill the wine. Grigon-Ruthor was sliding his palm

up under the skirt and along my leg to my thigh, and Bellna was just

about jumping out of her skin.

"You have not been given my permission to be quite as shy as that,

little peasant," Grigon said, his hand having paused in its upward

movement. "Unlock your muscles, and do not attempt to refuse me again.

You are aware, are you not, that you are mine to do with as I please?"

"Yes, Lord," I whispered, forcing my knees apart against tremendous

resistance. I had never before had to fight to control my own body in

quite the same way, and the sweat breaking out all over me under the

dress was adding to the mad I was beginning to feel. That was my body,

damn it, and no one else had the right to try to run it! I held the

wine glass carefully, forced my knees apart with mental teeth clenched,

and thought I could feel some of the strength in the Bellna ravings

fade a little.

"Ah, you seek to please me," Grigon-Ruthor said, the supercilious smile

back in place. "I do indeed find myself pleased, for I mean to see if I

may know how many men you have served before me.

I had a sudden, horrible premonition that he knew something I didn't,

but I wouldn't have had the time to ask about it even if the question

would have been in character. His hand slid quickly up between my

thighs before I could utter a sound, and the next instant I was gasping

in my own disbelief and trying to move away from him. His other hand in

the middle of my back kept me from moving that way, and the glass of

wine I held kept me from flying up toward the ceiling.

"Why, you are scarcely removed from the state of virginity," he

laughed, watching my face as I closed my eyes and trembled. "I would be

very much surprised if there has been more than a single man who has

tasted you. And I must say how thoughtful I consider you, to have

refrained from wearing the undergarments of a lady when you donned the

outer garments. Such a lack would show your true origins to any man who

touched you."

The half-growl in his voice was more accusation than approval, but at that point I really didn't care. I hadn't worn the heavy, uncomfortable

underwear simply because I hadn't expected anyone to be checking for

their presence; the fact that be was checking was the least of my

worries. I'd been told I'd be matched to Bellna, but I hadn't expected

to be matched to the extent of being turned into the next thing to a

virgin! My own reflexive urge to push his hand away stumbled into

Bellna's desperate need, the two flowed together, and it was all I

could do to keep from really defending myself. I kept my eyes closed

tight and trembled from the effort to do no more than that, and

Ruthor's chuckle sounded again.

"How strong an appeal I find in the innocent," he said, the faint slur

in his voice pointing up the interest of an apprentice sadist. "You may

release the wine now, and when I am done with it we will continue."

I opened my eyes to an awareness of the fact that he had been trying to

take the wine glass back from me, but hadn't been able to get my hands

to release their hold. I surrendered the glass to his smirk without

argument, despite the fact that I would have been willing to fight him

for it. Backward or not I could have used that wine, which was probably

his reason for refusing itto me. If I won the game it would be without

help, especially the sort that would steady my jangled nerve-endings

and numb my perceptions to a certain degree. Under normal conditions I

preferred keeping a clear head during a job, but on that job a clear

head was the one thing I wouldn't have no matter how little I drank. I

took a deep breath against the clamor still raging in my skull,

pretending I didn't see the way Grigon-Ruthor was staring at me over

his glass rim, reflecting that it was a good thing I'd opted for being

an "innocent" peasant girl. Being inexperienced can excuse a lot of

blunders, but it was also helping me cover my fight against Bellna. Her

time with Remo had been the sort of frustratingly distasteful

experience very sheltered women often have during their first taste of

sex. Remo had been too eager to arouse her properly before going for

his good time, and by the time she was past the fear and pain of his

attack and just beginning to feel some-thing else, he was already

through with her. There hadn't been more than that one bout between

them, and Bellna, childlike, expected all subsequent experiences to be

like the first. No one had told her any differently, and I had already

discovered that although I could hear her thoughts, none of mine

reached her. The fear that underlay her shock and outrage was worse

than those other two emotions and I swallowed hard, trying to get rid

of the taste of it.

"Do you anticipate my continued attention, child?" Grigon-Ruthor asked,

finishing off the last of his wine and tossing the glass away. "You

seem unsettled and unsure, yet this cannot be so. You are eager to

serve and please me, are you not?"

"Yes, Lord," I whispered, wishing he would get on with it rather than

dragging it out the way he was doing. "I am eager to serve and please

you."

"As you should be," he said, the smugness in his voice setting my teeth

on edge. "It is the place of peasant girls to be eager to serve their

betters, and yet there are times when reluctance and inexperience are a

good deal more - warming her eager anticipation. If I were to release

you from the need to give me service, would you find yourself filled

with gratitude toward me?"

I blinked at the faintly smiling indulgence on his face, wondering what

he was up to, wondering if he meant what he said. Was he really going

to let me off?"

"Lord, I would be grateful for whatever attention was given me by you," I whispered, deciding to play it as safe as possible. "If I were to be

left untouched, however, I would be. . ."

"Deeply disappointed," he interupted, nodding with world-weary

acceptance, knowing damned well that that wasn't what I'd been about to

say. "I have no other recourse then than to complete what was begun. Ah

me, how difficult it is at times to see to one's duty as a lord. Come

and lay your head upon my chest, child, and we will see to your lusts

as well as we may."

His hand forced me down against him, my cheek to his shoulder, the

disappoint went welling up from inside me bringing actual tears to my

eyes. Even as I fought against being overwhelmed I cursed silently,

finally understanding that his little act of supposed generosity had

been designed to reach Bellna rather than me. He was trying to force

her reactions out into the open, beyond my control, to a place where he

could see them and recognize them for what they were. If I had been

silly enough to believe him myself he might have gotten what he wanted,

but I'm not what could be described as a trusting soul. I'd hoped he'd

meant what he'd said, but I hadn't believed it; the little girl inside

my head had believed, and I couldn't escape paying the price for her

gullibility. Bellna didn't know what was going on, but she certainly

knew she wanted no more of it.

Grigon's shirt was a semi-soft linen, undoubtedly the best material

available to those who were above the level of peasant but below the

level of nobility. I found a faint, musky, masculine odor and

concentrated on that, trying to keep my attention away from where my

antagonist's free hand had returned. Bellna wanted to kick and scream

and fight and throw herself around, but the peasant I was supposed to

be would never be allowed that kind of theatrics. Grigon had taken to

indulging in a bout of slow teasing, and after a few minutes of his

silent indulgence, I made another unpleasant discovery. It had been a

long time since I'd last seen to my sexual needs, and although my body

had been made to match Bellna's, my reactions to things like Grigon's

teasing were strictly my own. It came to me that this rime the bastard

was after me, but there was less I could do about it than when he'd dug

for Bellna's reactions. I'd been able to keep her from taking over when

he'd been the victim, but keeping control was going to be harder with

me on the hot seat. I squirmed involuntarily at the picture those

thought-words evoked, and immediately regretted it. Grigon-Ruthor

laughed softly and increased his efforts, the predator immediately

attacking at the scent of blood. He was going to get me one way or the

other, and he damned well knew it.

It didn't take long before I was hanging onto the back of his shirt

with trembling fists, my face against his shoulder, my eyes closed

again. I had to remember not to let Bellna take over, remember not to

break the role of peasant girl, and remember not to react the way an

experienced woman would, all while being subjected to the close

attention of a man who knew his way around a woman's body a hell of a

lot better than any Tildorani would have. I was somehow managing to do

everything I had to, but only if you don't count breathing normally as

part of everything. I may be fairly capable in my chosen line of work,

but I'm still human; I wanted to stroke Grigon's body the way he

stroked mine, kiss his face softly to tell him I was ready to move on

to better things. I wanted to begin opening his shirt as he ran his

hands over me - but that wasn't what he wanted, or Bellna either. She

didn't understand the strange feelings assaulting her, and she feared

them; Grigon understood only too well, and wasn't about to let up.

"You may begin to undo the clothing of a lady," he said in Ruthor's lazy tones, making no effort to hide the growing slur in his voice.

"Should the sight of your body please me, you may well find yourself

ravaged without mercy."

I almost gasped at the throbbing wave of fear coursing through me,

finding it necessary to sit still for a brief moment before pushing

away from his chest. Grigon was now conducting an attack on two fronts,

trying to prod Bellna and me both at the same time. If I wanted what I

needed, and also wanted to keep from breaking my role I had to listen

to him, but if I did as he said Bellna would surely become even more

violent than she had been. She knew he was hardly likely tQ dislike her

body, and the panic was already begmm to set in. I forced myself to

raise my hands to the buttons on the front of my dress, feeling my

cheeks flame with Bellna's embarrassment, finding it impossible to sit

still in the face of Grigon's toying, biting my lip to show the

consternation of a very young peasant girl. I felt as though I were

three people and briefly, dizzyingly, couldn't remember which of the

three was supposed to show. The buttons fought my fingers the way

every-thing on that planet was fighting me, and hot, fat tears began to

roll down my cheek, courtesy of Bellna's fright and misery.

"Does your clumsiness distress you, little one?" GrigonRuthor asked

with oh-so-much concern in his voice, finally taking his hand away from

me. "You attempt to obey me., yet find yourself unable to do so. It is

clear I must assist you."

His hands came to mine to push them gently away, and then he tackled

the buttons. He wet his lips with pleased anticipation as he undid

them, but his expression changed-abruptly when the opened buttons

showed nothing but the silken under dress I hadn't been able to get out

of wearing. He was so obviously disappointed that nothing sexy showed

that his expression was downright comical. Under normal circumstances I

might have smiled to myself and saved the snicker for a private time,

but those circumstances were far from normal. Bellna was a little girl,

and so was the peasant girl of my role; the two of them combined and

giggled aloud in relief.

"You dare to laugh at me?" Grigon-Ruthor thundered, his frown widening

my eyes above the hand I'd hastily clapped over my mouth. "You dare to

find amusement in the doings of your lord?"

I was about to assure him very sincerely that I hadn't been laughing,

and especially not at him, when he interrupted the intention in the

most direct way possible. His hands took the blue velvet dress I was

wearing and ripped it open, then did the same to the white silk under

dress. Bellna's shock coursed through me as he threw me off his lap to

the floor, the disbelief intensifying as I hit hard. I'd been able to

cushion the jolt a little by using my hands, but the ruined material of

dress and under dress had been pushed down onto my arms, tying me into

what was left of once-elegant clothing. My left hip got the worst of

it, but one benefit came out of the unpleasant episode: the presence in

my mind was so shocked that it went speechless and motionless, leaving

me free to show appropriate fear and repentance when Grigon-Ruthor went

down to one knee and pulled me back toward him.

"Insolence is punished as ever it will be, girl," he told me coldly,

half-kneeling above me. "Do you continue to feel amusement?"

"I feel only the desire to serve you, Lord!" I quavered, looking up at

him with none of the growl I felt inside me. I wanted to serve him, all

right, but that sort of serving would have to wait-until I won.

"You need not fear," he said, reaching out to touch one of my nowexposed

breasts. "You will do exactly that. Get to your feet."

He stood straight and watched me struggle around until I could rise, holding the pieces of dress and under dress to keep them from falling

off me. I knew he wanted me stripped, but he wanted it done at his own

pace, and wouldn't appreciate being anticipated. When I was standing in

front of him he reached out and ripped everything the rest of the way,

then stepped back a pace to study me.

"Unexpected largesse," he murmured, looking at me with the most

intrusive stare he could manage. "More than I had anticipated-yet

without the hint of a blush. Are you other than the innocent I thought

you to be?"

"I am frightened, Lord," I whispered, cursing myself for forgetting

such an important detail. I had expected Bellna's embarrassment to do

the job for me, and when it didn't I hadn't been bright enough to take

over. "If you wish it I will attempt to do other than feel fear, and

yet.

"Still your tongue," he interrupted irritably, gesturing with one hand.

"I want no further words from you. Rid yourself of those rags, and take

yourself to my bed."

I got my wrists loose from the dress sleeves and let the "rags" fall to

the floor, then let my hesitation and reluctance show as I hurried

toward the curtained bed. Despite the fact that I knew I'd never sleep

without a good deal of soothing, I did feel reluctant at the thought of

sharing Grigon's bed. He wasn't likely to do anything for me without

indulging in a little more torture first, and whatever he did do would

be tempered by the way I'd been changed to match Bellna. I wasn't

afraid of the man, but wary wouldn't be a word too far from the mark.

Grigon waited until I'd parted the curtains, groped to find the covers,

then slipped under them before following me over. I was just beginning

to feel safe and snug in the darkness when the curtains were jerked

aside as far as they would go, and Grigon's darkened form moved toward

the head of the bed. I heard him reaching around, then heard a rattle

and a scrape. A spark flared bright in the darkness, catching

immediately on the slim piece of wood it had flared near, and from that

slim piece of wood a candle on the narrow shelf above the bed was lit.

Grigon blew out the flame on the piece of wood and set it back in its

place, and then he was ready for other things.

"I dislike being unable to see what I am about," he said, moving back

to the curtain opening at the side of the bed. "Were you given

permission to hide yourself beneath those covers?"

"No, Lord," I whispered, throwing the covers away as though they were

hot. "I meant no disobedience; Lord. I ask your forgiveness, Lord."

"Enough," he said, pulling his shirt out of his pants and then hauling

it off over his head. "I had thought it clear that I wished no more of

your chatter. I see you must be silenced by other means."

I watched him pull his boots off and then tackle his pants, his broad,

hair-covered chest more of a distraction than it should have been. He

had something else in mind for me, something I was not likely to enjoy,

but my mind insisted on watching him with wide-eyed interest as he got

down to the buff. He was certainly well made as a man, a fact sitting

in his lap had only hinted at. His degree of arousal would have had

some men pawing at the ground and demanding to get on with working it

off, but Grigon acted as though he had all the time in the world. he

tossed his pants to one side with a careless gesture, smiled faintly

when he saw my eyes on him, then moved closer to stand over me.

"You will lie flat so that I may examine you at my leisure," he said in

his Ruthor voice, leaning down to shove me partway across the bed so

that he might climb in himself. The bed linen wasn't linen but silk,

and he had seen to it that I'd warmed a place for him. "Should I hear a single sound from you, you will be punished. Have I made myself clear?"

I bobbed my head spasmodically, giving him a wide-eyed stare filled

with the apprehension of innocence. Bellna was bewildered in the shock

she was still suffering from and so was my role character; I,

unfortunately, could now guess at what he was up to. he sat next to me

where I lay and looked down at me, the faint smile on his face touched

with a hint of true amusement as his big hand came to stroke gently at

my middle. I'd never be able to take his "examination" without making

some kind of a sound, not in the face of the sort of expertise he'd

shown earlier. He was going to use that as an excuse to "punish" me,

but maybe being forewarned would be enough to let me hold out. His

stroking right hand came to slide over my breast, two of his fingers

catching the nipple between them and squeezing gently; I was able to

keep the gasp from coming out even though my mouth opened, but I

quickly changed my mind. Being forewarned wasn't going to do me a damn

bit of good, at least as far as holding out went. Maybe I could do

something with it afterward.

Surprisingly enough, "afterward" took a while to arrive.

Grigon worked on me slowly and deliberately, rekindling the blaze he

had started earlier and building on it. His hands and lips went

everywhere, touching, tasting, arousing, driving me more insane with

every minute that passed. I held the light blue silk clenched in my

fists as I twisted and writhed, barely aware of the still-frightened

child behind my eyes, totally consumed by the needs of my body. I felt

his hands like metal on my thighs, holding them apart and raising me

from the bed; I felt his breath, blown gently from between his lips;

when his tongue touched me I threw my head back and screamed,

completely beyond thinking and caring. That was what Grigon had been

waiting for, of course, and the open-handed slap that made my ears ring

brought me back and told me I'd lost the round.

"Again you disobey!" Grigon-Ruthor snarled, his second slap blurring my

vision and bringing tears to my eyes.. "Go and fetch my belt, at once!"

Teary-eyed and trembling I backed away from him, then slid off the bed

to do as he'd ordered. Control! I told myself with held-off

desperation, feeling the blubbering fear pour through me as I groped in

the shadows on my knees for Grigon's belt. It was lying half covered by

his pants, as though it had been set in place in anticipation of use,

which of course it had been. I picked up the soft but heavy leather in

trembling hands and held it to me, still not knowing whether or not I

could go through with it. I had a thing about being beaten that stemmed

from a very unpleasant experience during one of my assignments, and I

didn't know whether or not I could hold still for being beaten by

Grigon. I rose to my feet again, still clutching the belt, and hurried

back to the bed through the chill of the room. One way or another, my

question was about to be answered.

Grigon-Ruthor sat waiting for me on the bed, the small candle above

throwing shadows all about as I climbed over his legs. The tears were

still running down my cheeks as I reached the belt out toward him with

both hands, and for a minute his eyes met mine. That I knew he was

going to beat me must have been clear to see; as he took the belt a

peculiar expression flickered across his face. He glanced at the

trembling in my hands, the hopelessness my face must have been covered

with, the roundness of defeat in my shoulders, and suddenly there was a

different decision in his eyes.

"Such youthful innocence," he murmured, reaching a hand out to touch my

face. "That there are men who find pleasure in destroying such

freshness and beauty has never failed to infuriate me. I am no longer able to continue with this. Come to my arms, child."

I watched him throw the belt away but didn't really understand; not

until be had taken me in his arms and raised my face for his kiss. He

had spoken in his own voice, not that of Ruthor, and the game seemed to

be over. I say seemed to be because he was still speaking in the

Tildorani tongue, and he had begun to caress me again. I tested his

truthfulness with a small moan and got nothing but a murmur in

response, but the burning in my cheeks where he had slapped me worked

to keep me skeptical. I might have won the game already, but there was

no sense in not making sure.

Grigon's kiss was long and tender, and by the time it was over I lay in

his arms with both of us horizontal rather than vertical. His hands

moved over me with gentleness that surprised and startled the guest

behind my eyes, and did something more than that: it also aroused her.

How that could be possible I hadn't the faintest idea, but if a

glandular emotion like anger or embarrassment was possible for her, why

not arousal? The only possibility I could think of was that she was

using my body as an emotion-receptor, and with her diminished fear came

awareness of other sensations. Whatever it was, I was suddenly gripped

by arousal out of control, the sort that's usually channeled and used

through knowledge and experience tQ heighten enjoyment. I clutched

Grigon's back convulsively, pressing myself up against him, hearing his

chuckle as he pressed me flat to the bed. Bellna was ready to get on

with it and so was he, and once again I was in the minority. I tried to

push away her presence but it surged all around me, raw with power,

impossible to control. My knees separated of their own accord, the

baldest invitation possible, and Grigon wasn't slow to accept. He

positioned him-self between my thighs, gathered me to him, then

smothered me with a kiss as he surged forward into me.

If not for that kiss it would have been all over right then and there.

Aroused or not, Bellna was suddenly afraid, and she tried to cry out

when Grigon entered me. From my point of view the sensation was

unbelievable; Grigon felt as though he were twice the size he actually

was. Bellna, unused to that sensation under any circumstances, tried to

fight her way free and then panicked when she couldn't. Panic for her

happily corseted of withdrawal from control, and I was back where I was

supposed to be when Grigon raised his head.

"Does something disturb you, little one?" he asked, kissing my face

gently as he smoothed my hair back. "It was my impression that you

attempted to speak."

"I'm merely overwhelmed," I got out, trying to gather up all the ends

Bellna had dropped, before he decided something was peculiar. "I had

not anticipated such size and strength from you. Perhaps you would

allow me to see to your needs in another manner?"

"My sympathy and understanding are yours, wench, yet this may not be,"

he answered, his words nearly a murmur as his hips began to move

slowly. "I cannot bring myself to abandon the exquisite tightness of

you which, though it now disturbs you, will only be aided and lessened

by my presence. You have obeyed me well till now; will you continue to

do so?"

"Am I now permitted disobedience if that is my wish?" I asked, nearly

gasping the words. His movement was making his presence even more

unbelievable, and I didn't know how long I could stand it.

"No," he said with a merry grin, gathering me to him again. "I would

indeed be a fool were I to permit such a thing. Perhaps afterward."

He lost interest in conversation then, and it occurred to me that I had

another afterward to look forward to. Grigon's performance was considerate as far as rape usually goes, but considerate or not it was

still rape. With that in mind I forced myself to concentrate on what he

was doing rather than ignoring it, and began to help him - in my own

way. A woman who knows what she's doing can either extend a man's

performance or force it into termination, and Grigon had been holding

back a longer time than was usual. I know he was looking forward to a

leisurely ride, but I've had training from an adept of Saccarion, and

he couldn't resist my muscle movement. With teeth gritted he tried to

hold back, fighting the urge for release with non-movement, but he

didn't have a chance. He climaxed uncontrollably, his hands on my

shoulders, and then he withdrew to lay down beside me and breathe

deeply for a minute or two. I stirred where I lay, well aware of the

fact that my needs hadn't been seen to, but I'd rather have to use a

lot of self-control and cold showers than submit to rape.

"I apologize for the brevity of the entertainment, Grigon said at last,

rolling onto his side to put his hand on my middle again. I was

surprised to see that he didn't understand what had been done to him,

but it did save me some trouble: "We will proceed to your suggestion of

alternate amusement, and then will return for a second and longer

encounter of intimate enjoyment, eh? Let us. . ."

"Forget it," I interrupted, switching back to base language as I pushed

his hand away and sat up. "You've had enough fun for one night at my

expense. Let's discuss whether or not I've passed the test."

"You're a hard woman," he sighed, following my example as to language.

Other than that he turned to his back again, tucked his hands behind

his head, and looked up at me. "As far as the test goes, I'm not the

one to ask about it. How did it go from your end?"

"It wasn't as simple as I thought it would be," I admitted, running

both hands through my hair while my elbows rested on my knees. "Isn't

there some way to get rid of her so I can get on with this project in

peace?"

"Not without going back home," he said, watching me closely without

moving. "I'll call Dameron and arrange for retrieval."

"Forget it," I repeated, giving him a sour glance. "As far as the

project goes, nothing has changed. If I don't go, there's no one

waiting to be sent in my place. I'll have to manage just as I am."

"Manage to do what?" he asked, keeping his tone level. "Get yourself

killed? The men on this world don't fool around. If your alternate

personality comes out at the wrong time, you probably won't have the

chance to repair the damage. It's too much of a risk."

"Breathing in and out is a risk," I countered. "And you forget one

thing: I'm supposed to be Bellna. If I slip as Bellna, there's not much

harm done. After it's all over, I'll just have to stay away from people

until I'm picked up. I've lived off the land before; I won't starve or

trip over something with teeth and claws."

"I still don't like it," he said, finally sitting up straight and

folding his legs in front of him. "There are so many things that can go

wrong that we didn't dare ask the computer to list them; it would still

be working on the question. What if you can't avoid being among people?

What if you do trip over something with teeth and claws? What if you

run afoul of something we haven't even thought of? I keep getting

visions of you lying half under a bush, awash in your own blood,

complete vacancy behind those pretty blue eyes. I don't think I could

shrug off being partly responsible for the death of a young girl with

everything to live for."

I could see him fairly well in the flickering candlelight, and he

wasn't joking or being sarcastic. He really felt concern for me - but for the strangest reason.

"You're not by any chance thinking of me as being as young as I look,

are you?" I asked suddenly, bringing a flash of startlement to his

eyes. "Bellna is this young and innocent and helpless; I'm not. Putting

me half under a bush, awash in my own blood, has been tried before any

number of times. It didn't work then, and it's not guaranteed to work

now. If you don't believe that, I'll be glad to prove it by tossing you

into the fireplace. Just say the word."

"I think I can get along well enough without your kind offer," he

answered, a faint smile just beginning to curve his lips. "I'm not that

easy to toss into a fireplace, but I'm willing to stipulate the fact

that you're competent. The only question is, are you competent enough

to overcome the handicap you have? Will you be able to handle it no

matter what the situation?"

"Well, I can think of one situation when I may not be able to handle

it," I said, deciding to try some calculated misdirection. "I'm glad

you didn't try beating me with that belt; I don't know if I could have

kept control of myself."

"You think you would have lost control to Bellna?" he asked with a

frown. "Because of a beating? What makes you think she would have

dominated you at a time like that?"

"I'm not talking about her dominating me," I said, shaking my head as I

lay back down and stretched out. "In fact, it has nothing to do with

Bellna. I'm the one with an aversion to being beaten, and I've been

known to be somewhat-harsh with people who try it. I had a run-in with

a heavy whip once, and the passage of time hasn't done much to make me

forget it."

"Harsh," he echoed, a strange expression on his face as he looked down

at me. "Your eyes turn soulless when you say that. I've never had a

heavy whip used on me, but I can imagine what it must be like. Tell me

what was done to you."

"It's impossible to imagine what it's like without experiencing it," I

said, unable to keep the harshness out of my tone even though I looked

away from him. "As far as the rest of it goes, I'd rather not discuss

it."

"You're trembling," he said, his hand suddenly on my arm. "Of course we

don't have to discuss it if you don't want to. Are you all right?"

I turned my head back to him and nodded without speaking. I always

trembled when I thought about that one -particular incident, and not

just from anger. Anyone who thinks they would react differently and

more bravely is invited to try it for themselves.

"You shouldn't have much to worry about on that score at least," Grigon

said, moving his other hand to stroke my hair. "Most men on this world

would rather bed a female than beat her, especially one who looks like

Bellna. Your peasant girl role was good enough to mollify anyone who

wasn't actively bent on harming Bellna; if you run into the other kind,

you're free to defend yourself. If you were able to keep me from seeing

such deep-seated emotions when you brought my belt, you should be able

to retain control at other times. I feel considerably better about this

now."

"I'm glad to hear that," I said, producing a smile to match the one he

was wearing. "With that in mind, I think I ought to get some sleep now.

Tomorrow will be a busy day."

"Uh, yes, tomorrow," he agreed, suddenly looking more reluctant than

friendly or approving. "I suppose you will need your rest. Are you sure

there isn't anything else you need-that I could help you with?"

"Don't tell me you're asking," I said with brows high, raising' up on one elbow toward him. "What happened to the demands and orders?"

"They go with the other characters," he said, showing a grin. "In my

own persona, I don't indulge in rape unless I have to. And that 'have

to' refers to professional necessity, not last-ditch desperation. If

you tell me to walk away, it won't be the first time I've done it."

"Then I don't have to feel guilty about making you do it again," I

said, lying back down. "Good night."

"That value judgment is open to debate," he sighed, taking his hands

away from me. "Merely expressed as a wish to be granted, however, I

offer the same back to you. Sleep well."

I waited until he had gotten off the bed and had started for his

clothes before calling him back. I'd been curious to see if he really

meant what he'd said about leaving, and at that point there was no

doubt. Although rape tends to turn me stubborn, free agreement on all

sides is another matter entirely -and his abruptly terminated

performance earlier had gotten me curious about how he would do under

other circumstances. He came back to the bed with a soft laugh, took me

in his arms, then proceeded to make my struggle with Bellna less of a

struggle. My invisible guest was losing both her fear and her

reluctance, but her over enthusiasm was something left to be worked on.

I had a very pleasant time - but Bellna loved it.

Chapter 4

I awoke when the automatic sensing system I've developed over the years

told me I was no longer alone in the room. I could hear soft, whispered

conversation, and could see the sudden glow of a just-lit candle

through my slitted eyes. Whoever the intruders were, they certainly

weren't trying to sneak up on me; a second candle cut the dimness, and

another whisper joined the others. The last whisper overrode the first

two sharply, and there was a brief period of silence during which I

could see three long-skirted figures moving across the carpeting in

front of the fireplace. A fourth skirted form passed behind the first

three to the hearth, set wood in it, then worked briefly to get a fire

going. While this was being accomplished the first three opened a large

box, pawed through its hidden contents, then began arguing in very low

tones. All four of the intruders were female, and Bellna's thoughts

indicated they were servants. I hadn't been told to expect any

servants, but then I hadn't been told much of anything. They seemed to

be trying very hard not to wake me up, and the chill in the room's air

did well to convince me that staying where I was was probably my best

course of action. I yawned silently, snuggled down farther under the

covers, and continued with my best course of action.

I wasn't sleepy enough to fall asleep again, but the comfort of the

warmed silk cradling my body set my mind to drifting. It was highly

unlikely that the four women were anything other than the servants

Bellna thought them, and that meant my last-ditch effort with Grigon

the night before hadn't worn off the way I'd been afraid it might. He'd

been very attentive and considerate while making love to me, but most

mature men have no trouble separating bed time from thinking time. If

he hadn't down checked me for the project, it meant that he really had

been convinced by the story I'd told him. Not that the story wasn't

true. There are an uncounted number of times when truth will do more

for you than lying; the catch is in knowing when one of those times has

come by.

I felt a contented purr in my mind, and realized that Bellna was also

thinking about Grigon. He was talented enough to satisfy almost any woman, but especially one with Bellna's limited experience. She'd lost

control almost from the first moment he'd entered me, but I'd been able

to ignore her until Grigon began trotting out various facets of his

talent. There are certain things no woman alive can ignore, especially

if she starts out aroused. Grigon had the advantage over me the second

time, and he wasn't shy about pushing for all he was worth. I'd felt my

control slipping, fought to regain it, then realized that I couldn't

fight. My awareness was sliding into Bellna's, the two of them running

together, the resulting consciousness completely bound to the man who

was laughing softly as he watched me. Grigon obviously knew total

surrender when he saw it; the rest of our time together had been filled

with pleasure, but I'd had no say in any part of it. I'd felt nothing

but satisfaction at the time, but looking back on it was somewhat

embarrassing, just as Bellna's girlish memories were. My feeling the

way she did had caused the bonding between us, but was that any better

than having her assume control? The resulting personality didn't do

things the way I did; it might be best if I tried to avoid-"Forgive me,

Highness, yet I must awaken you," a soft voice interrupted my thoughts,

coming from right beside the bed. I opened my eyes to see a young girl,

her hands held nervously before her, no more of her expression visible

than the tremor in her voice. I was basing my guess as to her age on

the sound of her voice, but when she stepped back and turned enough so

that the candlelight touched most of her face, I saw I was right.

"Inform the Princess that her coach and escort have already arrived," a

stage-whisper came from one of the other three. "We must hasten if we

are not to anger the captain."

"You need have fear of angering none save me," I interrupted with

Bellna-huffiness, sitting up while making sure I held the covers

modestly over myself. "Who is this captain you speak of, and how dare

he make demands of me?"

"Captain Fallan is the leader of your mercenary escort, Highness," the

quavering answer came, this time directly from the girl who had

whispered before. She stood with the other two not far from the

fireplace, and all four of them looked nervous and uncomfortable.

"Though he uttered no words of demand, we were instructed to ready you

as quickly as possible. It would be foolish to ignore such

instructions, for mercenaries are known to have little patience, most

especially captains of mercenaries.

The girl stopped to breathe after getting all that out in a rush, the

other three nodding their heads in agreement. All four of them were

young, no more than sixteen at the most, and all of them were clearly

peasants. They wore long print skirts made from some cheap material,

low cut blouses that had once been white, had solid-colored shawls tied

around their hips out of the way, and were barefoot. Bellna didn't know

any of them, and couldn't understand why they were there. The female

servants who usually looked after her were trained ladies' maids,

efficient, genteel and quietly obedient.

"We were brought here by Captain Fallan for the express purpose of

assisting you to readiness," the girl next to the bed said, drawing my

eyes back to her. "We had best do so immediately."

"Had we really," I murmured, letting Bellna's annoyance touch me. "Have

you ever before been privileged to serve a Princess?" They all shook

their heads, looking confused, and I nodded. "I thought not. You have

much to learn before you will be acceptable. Bring me a wrap."

None of the four was terribly pleased with my attitude, and I could see

they were having difficulty remembering and accepting my higher social

position. If I'd been older than they it would have been easier all around, but I wasn't older and I may even have been younger. One of the

two who hadn't spoken yet, a pretty redhead with a good figure, went to

the large box I'd seen them open earlier and pulled out a long, tiearound

dress. The tie-around was the wrap I'd asked for, and when she

brought it to the bed I threw the covers aside, stood up, and let her

put it around me.

"You may bring beverages and foods to break my fast," I informed them

haughtily as I tied the tie-around. "When I have finished my repast,

you may then dress me."

The two who had done all the talking so far began sputtering as a

prelude to arguing, but I wasn't listening to anything I didn't want to

hear. I moved between the heavy curtain and the bed, found the lighter

arrangement Grigon had used the night before, lit the candle, then went

back to jerk the drapes closed in the faces of my new servants. They

were half outraged and half frightened, but I didn't think they'd make

the mistake of outright disobedience. They may not have liked it, but I

war a princess.

I spent some time behind the curtain making use of the room's chamber

pot in private, then went out to find that two of the four girls, the

two talkative ones, were gone. The other two glanced at me

uncomfortably, but kept quiet as I went to the chair in front of the

fire and sat down. Their disapproval was as loud as shouting, but as

long as they didn't say anything out loud Bellna was satisfied, which

meant that L was satisfied. I was more eager to get going than to stop

for a meal, but letting myself be rushed wouldn't have been in

character. Bellna was used to doing things her way, so obnoxious was

the way I would have to play it.

It didn't take long for the two girls to get back, and they didn't look

happy. One of them carried a tray and the other opened the door for

her, and the two of them hurried over to where I was sitting.

"Captain Fallan sends his compliments, Princess," the second one said

while the first, the one who had been nearest the bed, put the tray

across the arms of the chair I sat in. "He wishes you a hearty repast,

yet asks that you partake of it as quickly as possible. Dawn approaches

swiftly, and it is best that we be on our way before then."

"He swore when he heard you had not yet dressed," the girl who had

carried the tray blurted, her face pale in the candlelight. She had

brown hair, just as the second girl did, but looked fractionally

younger. "Had it been I he swore at, I would not have been able to

cease trembling. His anger grows as his patience thins."

"And yet the word he sent was most courteous," I pointed out, lifting

the thick wedge of bread smeared with what looked like butter. "He may

swear as he wishes in the presence of peasants, yet would my father

have his tongue out were he to do the same before me. He will wait as

long as necessary, for it is in my service that he moves. Was the lord

Grigon as displeased as he?"

"The lord spoke no word in our presence, yet did he seem touched by

annoyance," the girl answered, glancing at her friends. They weren't

used to seeing a female get away with murder when dealing with men, and

they weren't sure whether or not they liked it.

"The lord Grigon will also survive," I said with a sniff, then tackled

the fried meat and boiled oats on my plate. The meal was a quick,

slapped-together affair that Bellna didn't care for, but rather than

refuse to touch it, I simply showed distaste while slowly shoveling it

in. I did have to get the show on the road, and could intelligently

delay things only so long. The four girls stood around watching me, the

oddest expressions on their faces, their annoyance growing when they realized I was ignoring them just as much as I was ignoring the men.

Even the slowest meal has to come to an end, and the girls were all

ready for me when I indicated that the wooden tray could be taken. I'd

spent a small amount of time privately admiring the intricately carved

bone that was used in place of wood or metal plates, and could finally

understand Dameron's reference to collectors. The bone plate would have

fit well into my own collection of rare and beautiful things, but there

was no way for me to get it out of there. The only practical solution

would be to come back for it once all the excitement was over, but that

time was a long way off. I had to live through everything in between

first, and that might turn out to be easier said than done.

Once the tray was taken, I had to let myself be dressed. I would have

preferred doing it alone, without help, but that would have been out of

character. The underwear I had managed to avoid in the base was the

first thing produced, to Bellna's satisfaction and the girls'

amusement. The bottom part fit tight down to below my knees, was drawn

closed at my waist, and was made up of frilly layers of lace. The top

part was a short-sleeved, waist4ong jacket with lacings in front, made

of silk without frilly layers, as confining as a straitjacket with the

lacings closed. Raising my arms so that the under-dress could be put on

me wasn't the easy gesture it should have been, setting me to wonder

how I was supposed to fight in that rig. A light blue dress had been

supplied to take the place of the dark blue one Grigon had torn, and

then I was urged into the chair so that my boots could be put on and

laced. My underwear came to just about the top of the boots, and with

the long sleeved, high-collared dress, I was covered all over. Bellna

considered that the only decent way to appear in public, but I couldn't

help wishing there was some way to be indecent yet stay in character.

The blazing fire was making me sweat, and outdoors would hardly be

better. The nights grew cool around there, but the days were pleasantly

warm.

After my hair had been combed to Bellna's satisfaction, I led the way

out of the room. It was useful being able to leave some of the small

details to the Bellna presence, but I had to be careful not to do it

too often. Something like that could get to be a habit, and habits like

that I didn't need. The girls followed after me down the stairs, trying

not to step on my skirts in their hurry, even more upset that I was

still taking my time. At the bottom of the stairs the redhead, who was

carrying my cape, squeezed past me and got to the door to the outer

room first, then held it open. I knew she was telling the men I'd

finally gotten there, and when I reached the doorway I found two sets

of eyes on me.

Grigon stood in the same conservative dark trousers and white shirt he

had worn the day before, stood shouldered and narrow-faced, his faint

air of disapproval covered by the small bow he performed. As far as

being the center of attention, though, he could have been jumping up

and down and waving his arms and he still wouldn't have made it. The

second man dominated the room completely, despite the fact that he was

doing nothing but standing there. He was taller and broader than

Grigon, brown-haired and brown-eyed, square-faced and almost handsome

in his ugliness. His pants and knee-length boots were black, but his

shirt was a bright, blazing red, telling everyone who looked at him

that he was a mercenary. The long neck-scarf he wore was a light blue,

showing that he was employed by Prince Havro, whose main color was

light blue. My information told me his neck scarf was black when he was

unemployed, and also that the length of it ~ claimed him captain of his

group. His left hand rested on the hilt of a plain, workmanlike sword, which was sheathed in a well-worn brown leather scabbard belted around

his waist; his eyes, piercingly direct and without any trace of

backwardness, rested only on me. Bellna unfluttered in my mind at the

impact of those eyes, impressed despite herself, sharing the sense of

excitement that crackled among the four girls behind me like static

electricity. Fallan was the sort of man whose attention most females

tried to attract; it seemed only fair to let him know where he stood

with me.

"I hope, Lieutenant, that you and your men are prepared to depart," I

told his stare as I moved briskly into the center of the room. "The

journey before us is lengthy, and there is little sense in standing

about here."

"In standing about here," he echoed in a deep voice, watching without

expression as I approached him. "You are concerned as to whether or not

we are prepared to depart?"

"My Princess, allow me to present the leader of your escort," Grigon

hastily interposed as Fallan began drawing himself up to the explosion

point. "This is Captain Fallan, leader of twenty, engaged by your

father the Prince to protect you from his enemies at all costs. Where

your safety is concerned, the Captain has been authorized to speak with

your father's voice. I feel quite sure, Captain, that my Princess will

afford you full cooperation."

"I will be pleased to give the - captain, did you say, Grigon? - the

Captain's planned itinerary my personal attention," I answered as I

adjusted the sleeves and skirt of my dress, not looking directly at

either of the men. "It will undoubtedly be acceptable with only the

most minor corrections."

Grigon looked as if he wanted to close his eyes in pain, and the four

girls behind me gasped in shock; Fallan, surprisingly, showed amusement

rather than anger

"My - itinerary - has already received the approval of your father,

Princess," he said with the smallest bow it's possible for the human

body to perform. "It is therefore unnecessary for you to concern

yourself with the matter, save in compliance. As sufficient time has

already been wasted in awaiting your appearance, you may now take

yourself to the coach which stands without. My men and I seek to

complete our commission before we have attained too great an age to

attempt others after it."

"How dare you!" I gasped, using only a small part of Bellna's shocked

indignation at the way he'd spoken to me. "Perhaps it has escaped your

notice that you address someone other than a peasant, Captain! I assure

you my father will hear of your impertinence!"

"Your father has already heard of my impertinence," Fallan grinned,

moving a step closer to me. "It is undoubtedly the reason I was given

this commission. You may inform his Highness that all proceeds apace,

Lord Grigon."

"It will be my pleasure to do so, Captain," Grigon agreed with the

ghost of a smile on his narrow face. "Now, if I may have a moment alone

with the Princess before your departure.

"You may not," Fallan said, finality in his voice as his big hand

wrapped around my arm. "The Princess has expended more moments than her

share; yours must unfortunately replace one of them. This moment is the

one we depart."

Grigon's mouth opened in protest, his faint amusement gone, but he

wasn't given a chance to get any words out. Fallan was already hustling

me toward the door, his pace and effort easy enough to pretend to be

assistance, his grip solid enough to really give me no choice. Bellna was having a screaming fit in my head, furious over the way Fallan was

treating me, but I glanced back at Grigon feeling disturbed. My fellow

agent had clearly wanted to tell me something, and was just as clearly

not going to get the chance. I sputtered indignantly at Fallan just to

stay in character, but inwardly I was cursing at him in a way that

probably would have shocked him if I'd done it aloud. Missing inside

information was hazardous to the health in my line of work, and I was

missing it because of Fallan.

Apparently the information Grigon had wasn't important enough to cause

him to make a fuss over Fallan's decision. I heard him trailing along

behind with the four girls as I was taken through the door into the

early dawn. At the foot of the porch steps was a large, ornate

carriage, light blue trimmed with gold, Prince Havro's sigil on the

door facing us, six brown vair harnessed to the front of it. Vair were

tall, doe-eyed draft animals, four-legged and soft-coated, maned and

tailed and usually even-tempered. Fallan's twenty were also mounted on

vair, though not at the time we left the lodge. Right then they were

standing around looking bored, but when they saw us they immediately

perked up.

"Your four wenches must accompany you in the coach," Fallan told me as

I hastily lifted my skirts to keep from tripping down the steps. "I

lack sufficient vair to mount them among my men, and would not wish the

distraction even had I the vair. They will ride with you."

"They are not mine, therefore may they be left behind!" I snapped,

annoyed at the way he was treating me, but even more frustrated by his

suggestion. When Clero's men caught up with that coach, I wanted to be

the only one in it. If attackers become confused about who the target

is, they tend to wipe out everyone in sight just to be on the safe

side.

"They will not be left behind," he answered, more interested in

reaching for the handle of the coach door than in arguing with me. "It

is necessary that they accompany you, and they shall do so. Allow me to

assist you into the coach."

His hand on my arm forced me up the narrow steps and into the coach,

letting me go only when I made the obvious choice between standing up

all bent over and sitting down on the right-hand seat. The seething

Bellna was doing bubbled through my mind and body, involving me more

than a little. Fallan was making an occasional, casual attempt to treat

me with the respect a princess was supposed to be given, but only if

the attempt didn't put him out any. I pulled angrily at my skirt to

straighten it under me, fighting off the urge to tell Fallan exactly

what I thought of him-in terms guaranteed to make him come after me. A

boot in the face would teach him to watch his mouth when he spoke to

me, not to mention how personally pleasant I would find-I shook my head

hard, making sure that line of thought was cut off cold. Bellna's

frothing was beginning to affect my annoyance, and I couldn't let that

happen. I needed Fallen to help me spring Clero's trap, and even if I

didn't, beating up on him would be somewhat out of character. I could

sit there and scowl at the back of his head, but that was all I had

better do.

At Fallan's gesture the four girls hurried to the coach, then climbed

inside wearing harried expressions. They weren't about to disobey

Fallan and not enter the coach, but my very obvious displeasure was

making them uneasy. The first three to scramble inside made sure to

take the opposite seat, as far from me as possible, but that left the

fourth one, the redhead, out in the cold or at least out of a seat.

There just wasn't any more room on the other side, and I was sitting in the middle of my seat. Another man had come up to join Fallan at the

coach door, this one wearing a light blue neck scarf of his

lieutenant's length, and when the redhead hesitated, half in and half

out of the coach, he decided to take advantage of the situation.

"Should there be no room for this one, Captain, I will gladly take her

with me," he said with a grin, then slid his hand up under her cheap

print skirt. "Her presence will pass the time quite pleasantly."

The girl gasped and reddened when the mercenary's hand reached its

target, but she still had nowhere to go. Her left arm clutched my cape

to her body as both mercenaries laughed, and then her widened eyes

closed in misery. She couldn't climb in and she couldn't climb out, and

Bellna was smugly pleased to see her like that. What happened to

peasants was of no concern to a princess, the two men were enjoying the

girl's discomfort, and even the other three peasant girls were

snickering to themselves. No one felt the least amount of pity for the

victim caught in the middle, but I've never been bright about things

like that. I reached out and took the girl's right arm, hauled her past

me to the seat to my right, then turned my head toward Fallan.

"I had thought grown men would be more difficult to divert from their

duty," I observed in Bellna's sleekest, nastiest tone. "Apparently, my

father's enemies will need do no more than dangle some pleasant wench

before you, and you will be theirs. I now see the necessity for the

presence of these peasants: to allow you to retain memory of your

commission."

The second man was as pretty-handsome as Fallan was ugly, and he hadn't

liked the way I'd taken his toy away. My speech turned his frown into a

scowl, but before he could vocalize his displeasure, Fallan's big hand

was on his shoulder.

"It is long past time to depart, Ralnor," Fallan said in a strangely

even tone, his eyes unmoving from my face.

"Have the men mount up." he waited for Ralnor to move away with a curt

nod, then closed the coach door with a slam. "As for you, Missy," he

continued in a lower tone, looking up at me through the window,

"Princess or no, injured sensibilities or no, you had best learn to

curb your tongue. Should I find it necessary to remonstrate with you

for impertinence as your father has given me leave to do, you will find

the occasion less than pleasant."

With that he turned and walked behind the coach, undoubtedly to get his

vair, leaving me to cope with the painful resonance of Bellna's shock.

My uninvited guest was finding it impossible to believe that her father

would have given Fallan permission to keep her in line, and was

scandalized at the mere suggestion that he had. For my own part I was

fairly certain Fallan was exaggerating if not lying outright, a

possibility supported by the uncertain look on Grigon's face. The

Absari agent was still standing on the lodge porch, watching the

goings-on but not joining them; when he saw me looking at him his

expression turned determined and he started down the steps, but he was

too late. Fallan shouted an order, another voice echoed it, and the

coach lurched briskly away from the lodge.

"I cannot fathom the reason you have placed yourself in jeopardy for

me," a faint voice said from my right. "You are a Princess and I am no

one."

I turned my head to see the red-haired girl, backed as far away from me

on the seat as she could get, still clutching my cape, vast confusion

in her big blue eyes. At the same time I became aware of the fact that

the other three girls were also staring at me, all of them practically

shouting that I'd stepped out of character. They weren't far wrong, but I didn't want them to go on believing it.

"I, placed in jeopardy?" I asked with brows raised high, pulling my

skirt away from the redhead as though she might contaminate it. "You

speak foolishly, girl, for you know not what you say. Think you that

lout toyed with you? As you say, you are less than nothing and I am a

princess. To put hands upon the servant of a princess is to offer

insult to the princess herself, and that I shall not allow. That fool

of a captain is now aware of it."

"And yet he promised you punishment," the girl whispered, still hugging

my cape. "You cannot know what punishment is at the hands of one such

as he."

"Nor shall I know," I smirked, waving the point away with one hand. "He

attempts to frighten me with child's tales which I shall not, of

course, believe. Have no fear, girl. You stand beneath my protection."

I turned my attention to the forest we rode through, pretending I

didn't see the looks exchanged among the three girls opposite me. They

were now probably considering me no more than a pompous brat, which was

just the way I wanted it. When the attack came, their first thought

would be to put as much distance between me and them as possible -

which just might keep them alive.

It didn't take long before our party reached a wide road through the

woods, and shortly thereafter the real boredom began. Although the day

was beginning to be pretty, there's just so much you can get out of

forests and fields and more forests. My mercenary escort rode all

around the coach, their neck scarves streaming out behind them, their

eyes constantly in motion in all directions. The four girls in the

coach untied their shawls from around their waists and retied them

around their shoulders against the early morning chill, then began

discussing in low tones the various mercenaries they could see from the

coach, possibly to take their minds off how cold they still were. In

all the layers of clothes I'd been stuffed into, cold was the least of

my worries; once the sun came up for real, I'd be sweating like a metal

bucket filled with ice. I moved in discomfort, silently cursing the way

my layered underwear made it feel as if I were sitting on something

lumpy. Only chains could have tied me tighter than those clothes, and I

didn't like the feeling. I stared out of the window on my left

morosely, trying to block out the giggling of the peasant girls, and

suddenly a beautiful red bird flashed out of the trees, pacing us with

lazy wing-beats for a moment before turning away back to the forest. I

watched the bird until it disappeared, delighting in its beauty and

freedom, not realizing that I was being watched just as closely until I

noticed Fallan. The mercenary captain rode his vair not five feet from

the coach, and when he saw my eyes on him he urged his mount closer.

"I had not known you had a smile of such beauty, Princess," he said,

looking at me in a way that made Bellna shiver in my mind. "A pity it

is so often displaced by a pout."

He grinned then and sent his vair on ahead and out of sight, leaving

behind a deep silence in the coach. All four of the girls were staring

at me wide-eyed, their faces reflecting the thrilled excitement Bellna

was sending racing through my bloodstream. Fallan had actually shown a

faint interest in me, and Bellna was almost ready to consider it a

promise of undying love. All of the girls, Bellna included, were

beginning to have a crush on the big mercenary, and I felt like

groaning. I hadn't had a crush on a man since I'd seen Starman

Courageous without his chest pads and girdle; and wasn't about to be

caught up in the nonsense. As far as I was concerned Fallan was nothing more than a pain in the rump, and on that point I would make the

decision stick. I turned back to stare out the window again, ignoring

an urge to lean out and look ahead that wasn't mine, and worked at

sticking to my resolve.

The motion of the coach put me to sleep for a while, but I was awake

again when we reached the inn. We'd only been on the road for a few

hours, and at first I didn't understand why we were stopping. It took a

minute before I realized that Tildorani ate four meals a day rather

than three, and it was time for the second meal. I wasn't particularly

hungry, but I was too bored not to be looking forward to the stop.

The inn was a large, three-story yellow and white house with a high

wall and gate, a stable not far from the house, and a wide entrance

court. Stable boys hurried over to help with the mercenaries' mounts,

and Fallan himself came to hand me out of the coach. His touch on my

arm was deferential rather than demanding, and combined with the same

look he had given me earlier it was enough to turn Bellna shy with

fluster. I, however, hadn't forgotten how pushy he'd been at the lodge;

when I climbed out of the coach I made sure to come down right on his

foot. The instep is a high pain target, which took care of the halfamused,

half-interested look he'd been wearing.

"Oh, how clumsy of me!" I exclaimed immediately, as he closed his eyes

and flinched. "I do hope you will forgive me, Captain."

"Certainly, Princess," he got out through his teeth, then looked at me

with a lot less friendliness. "Had the misstep not been an accident, it

would certainly have been punished. As it was an accident, it will

certainly be forgiven."

"How fortunate, then, that it was an accident," I said with a pleasant

smile, ignoring the fact that he had told me he suspected it wasn't.

"Shall we enter the inn now?"

"As soon as I am able to walk again," he muttered, turning back to the

coach to gesture the four girls out. They came out one at a time,

making sure to touch the ground nowhere near Fallan's feet, and the way

they loosened their shawls reminded me how uncomfortable I was. It

wasn't Fallan's fault that I'd been closed into layer after layer of

straitjacket, but having gotten some of my own back from him even

raised my spirits about that.

"This way, Princess," Fallan directed, and led off all alone toward the

inn, I followed after him, the girls followed after me, and the rest of

Fallan's men completed the parade. The only one to hurry was Fallan's

lieutenant, Ralnor, who hustled a little to catch up to Fallan before

the mercenary captain reached the inn. The two of them paused in the

doorway, blocking the parade, and I realized they were checking out the

interior before letting me walk in. It seemed like a sensible idea,

even though Clero's men shouldn't have had the time to get there yet.

But then, Fallan and his men didn't know about the timetable we'd

established, and I wasn't about to tell them.

The appearance of the inn turned out to be acceptable. Fallan and

Ralnor moved farther inside and then stepped apart, making an aisle for

me to walk through. I used the aisle casually, showing nothing of the

upset the Bellna presence felt over what I'd done to Fallan. It was

almost like looking out at the world through two sets of eyes, one mine

and the other-well, mine also but strangely different. One way Fallan

looked big and roughly attractive and annoyingly in the way, the other

he was an overpoweringly attractive man of violence and sex appeal. It

wasn't too difficult keeping the two views separated, but it still felt

strange.

The inside of the inn was cozy, in a rustic, backward way. The ground floor seemed to be all one room, except fur a part at the back

separated by a wall and door, which probably hid the cooking

facilities. Most of the back wall was taken up by a fireplace, filled

at the moment with nothing but fresh, unburned logs. The numerous

windows streaming sunlight were uncurtained, and the animal4at wall

lamps were unlit. More than a dozen travelers sat about at trestle

tables of various sizes, and every one of them turned to stare when we

made our entrance. A short, thin man came out of the door in the far

wall, started when he saw us, then hurried over.

"Forgive me for not having known of your presence sooner, Captain," he

said to Fallan with a few absentminded bows, his eyes glued to me with

a glitter. "May I be of service to you?"

"The Princess honors your house in order to dine," Fallan answered, his

voice cold and dangerous. 'It were best that you not disappoint her

expectations."

"The Princess!" the small man gasped, utterly delighted. "Highness, my

house is yours! Pray enter and be seated!"

This time the bowing was for me, along with the stares of everyone in

the room. Considering the fact that Fallan was supposed to be

protecting me, he was being awfully generous with information as to who

I was. Most nobles traveled around on Tildor without telling people who

they were; that was why the innkeeper had addressed himself to Fallan;

he hadn't expected to be told who I was. As a decoy for the real

princess it didn't matter much to me, but Fallan wasn't supposed to

know I was a decoy. I frowned as I followed the innkeeper across the

floor and tried to catch Fallan's eye, but the big mercenary seemed to

be avoiding looking in my direction.

The innkeeper led us all the way to the left, to a corner area standing

apart from the rest of the room. The tables there were crafted rather

than thrown together, short lengths of white cloth covered them, and

four or five big, well-carved chairs stood together in a corner. My

host hurried over to one of the chairs, dragged it to the head of the

largest table, tossed aside the plain chair standing there, then bowed

to me again.

"Your seat, Highness," he burbled, thrilled with the entire situation.

"Allow me to assist you.

"I will assist her," Fallan said, totally untouched by the way the

small man's face fell. "You may return to your hearth and have our meal

prepared. Those three wenches are to be fed in your kitchens; the

fourth will remain here to serve the Princess. My lieutenant and some

of my men will accompany you.

Ralnor moved two steps off to wait for the innkeeper, who looked

nervous rather than insulted. Fallan's lieutenant would be there to

make sure there was nothing added to our meal that shouldn't be added,

and if something aroused his suspicions he might not take the time to

ask questions. The innkeeper nodded his head in resignation, bowed to

me again, then led Ralnor and his four mercenaries and the three darkhaired

girls toward the door in the far wall. The only one of the girls

left was the redhead, and she looked nervous for some odd reason. I

went to the ornate chair and took my place, then watched Fallan seat

himself to my right, his back to the wall our table stood near. His men

arranged themselves very obtrusively around us, and Fallan turned to

glance at the still standing redhead.

"Place yourself behind the Princess and to her left, where you may

serve her without intrusion," Fallan directed, stretching out

comfortably in his chair. "Yon inn wenches will serve no more than my

men and I." The girl turned her head to see the three inn girls who were hurrying

toward us, two of them carrying wooden trays filled with metal goblets

for the men, one of them with a silver tray and a single, intricately

wrought gold-colored goblet. The goblet probably was gold, but even,

though the redhead quickly rounded the back of my chair to jake it from

the inn girl, the thing never reached me.

"The Princess does not take wine at such an early hour of the day,"

Fallan announced, stopping both girls in their tracks. "Return that

goblet, and fetch a pot of andilla."

The inn girl, looking frightened, sketched a fast curtsy and headed

back the way she came, leaving the redhead to step back behind my

chair. Bellna didn't understand what was going on any more than I did,

which made it my option to comment.

"How thoughtful of you to look after my wants so carefully, Captain," I

commented, finally bringing those eyes directly to me. "And how clever

of you to be aware of them without consulting me."

"My commission demands both thoughtfulness and cleverness, Princess,"

Fallan answered with a faint grin, accepting a copper-colored goblet

from one of the inn girls. "You will find that I shall not shirk my

duty."

"Ah, you are aware, then, of your duty." I nodded in approval, then

looked at him with exaggerated sweetness. "Would you, in that event, be

so kind as to explain it to me? It has seemed, till now, that the

demands of duty have escaped you entirely."

A small gasp came from behind my chair, echoed in some part by the

Bellna presence. Both Bellna and the redhead thought I was pushing it

with Fallan, something neither one of them would have done. I was

pushing it, but I had to find out what he was up to.

"Appearances are often deceiving, Princess," Fallan answered with an

impassive drawl. "One often finds it necessary to see the last of a

series of actions before the first of those actions is clarified. Now

comes your andilla."

Which ended the discussion. The inn girl with the silver tray was back,

this time bringing a beautifully designed ceramic pitcher and mug, the

pitcher presumably filled with the warm, chocolatey drink called

andilla. The redhead stepped out from behind my chair, took the mug and

pitcher from the tray, poured me a mugful of andilla, then disappeared

behind my chair again. I still didn't know what Fallan was up to, still

didn't understand why the redhead had to serve me instead of one of the

inn girls, and didn't want any part of the andilla. I could see faint

wisps of steam rising from the mug, and didn't much care for chocolate

drinks even when they were cold. I tugged at the high collar of my

dress and moved in annoyance in the big chair, but that did me as much

good as questioning Fallan had. It was fairly clear that the meal stop

would not be a particularly pleasant one.

My guess didn't prove to be entirely wrong. The men had their wine

poured for them, and then the food began coming. Omelets and light

soups and thin cuts of meat, lightly fried fowl and vegetables and

fresh-baked bread, and all of it was brought to me first. During an

assignment I usually believe in eating whenever I can, knowing the next

chance I get might be a long time in coming, but that was pushing it

even for me. I tasted all of the dishes out of curiosity, finding them

underseasoned but otherwise acceptable, then spent some time watching

everyone else eat. Fallan's men did their eating standing up, and

Fallan, although seated, spent as much time as they did looking around.

Their goblets were refilled almost as soon as they emptied them, but

none of them was drinking at all hard. Most mercenaries drank wine the way other people drink water, or at least that was what Bellna

believed; true or not true, I could see they were watching their

intake. It gave me the impression they were expecting trouble, and that

set me to wondering what they knew that I didn't. Clero's men could

show up at any time, but Fallan and company shouldn't have known that.

Our meal was just about over when the trouble happened. It was nothing

more than a simple scuffle, but it drew the attention of Fallan

himself. Two men seated on the other side of the room, merchants or

landed gentry by their clothing, tried to come over to my table for

some reason or other. Fallan's men barred their way, telling them to go

back to their own table, but the two strangers disagreed. Hard words

followed, swords came half out of scabbards, and Fallan, with a snapped

order to the redhead to stay behind my chair, got up and joined the

party. Once he got there the two men forgot about swords and tried

bluster, but it was clear to everyone in the room that the argument was

over. Fallan wasn't the leader of his men because someone had appointed

him to the job, and both of the strangers wilted visibly under his

stare. I leaned back in my chair again, disappointed to a large degree

that the argument wasn't the prelude to the attack I was waiting for.

That attack would put my neck on the line, but it would also give me

the chance to get off that planet. Dameron's so important job was

beginning to bore me, and boredom was more dangerous than attack. It

made the most alert careless, the fastest sluggish, the brightest

uncaring; boredom had killed more agents than weapons and ambush, and I

didn't want my name added to the list. It didn't help that Bellna was

even more bored than I was; that sort of reaction doesn't need

reinforcement.

I suppose I could say that what I did next was an attempt to end the

boredom, and to a great extent it would be true. The real truth is that

when I get bored, I also get an irresistible urge to liven things up.

I've had trouble because of that particular urge, but nothing that I

didn't consider well worth the fun involved. I didn't often indulge the

urge during an assignment, but when I saw Fallan watching his men as

they escorted the two intruders back to their table on the other side

of the inn, the idea came to me all at once. His goblet stood to my

right, still half filled with wine, and it didn't take very long to

empty it down my throat. For a very young wine it wasn't bad, but

drinking it was only half of what I had in mind. The other half was

refilling the goblet to its previous level with the andilla I hadn't

touched, the andilla I'd been given because of Fallan. It seemed only

fair to return the favor and then see what developed. The Bellna

presence giggled nervously as I sat back again, but was too delighted

with what she'd-I'd done to really regret it. The boredom was taken

care of, and that was what counted.

No more than another couple of minutes passed before Fallan came back

to my side of the table. He stopped behind his chair but didn't sit,

instead looking around before glancing at me.

"It is more than time that we continued on, Princess," he said,

absently reaching for the goblet he'd left unemptied. "There has

already been one incident, and the next may be less easily seen to. It

seems I was ill-advised to announce your identity so openly."

No, don't tell me! I responded, but only to myself as I stared up at

him in silence. He was noticing the obvious pretty damned late, but

somehow he seemed more satisfied than contrite. He was still up to

something, but questioning him would have been a waste of breath. I sat

instead and watched him raise his goblet to his lips as he continued to

look around, saw him take a good, healthy swallow-then watched straight-faced as he spit out the unexpected drink. Andilla isn't bad

when it's warm; cold, it tastes very much like unwashed armpits. Half a

dozen men at a nearby table laughed uproariously, obviously having seen

what I'd done and eagerly awaiting the trap to close. Fallan wiped his

mouth with the back of his hand as his eyes moved to me, and Bellna was

suddenly all out of giggles.

"I would know the meaning of this gift, Princess," he ground out, the

expression on his face and the blaze in his eyes enough to replace the

recent laughter at the nearby table with immediate silence. "has it

some significance which eludes me?"

"I merely sought to emulate your actions, Captain," I answered. in the

most innocent tone I could manage, at the same time rising from my

chair. "Your anticipation of my wishes was enviable, so much so that I

attempted the same for you. Have I failed so dismally, then?"

He stared at me briefly without answering, returned the goblet to the

table with a thud, then came closer to take my arm.

"Had you truly sought to anticipate my wishes, you would have bared

your bottom, Princes," he growled very low, his hand closing a bit more

on my arm. "Another doing such as this, and I will make the effort for

you. For that you have my word."

"Why, Captain, whatever do you mean?" I asked, oddly feeling the fear

Bellna experienced coursing through my body. Fallan's threat had

panicked her, but I knew better. If he had been going to do anything it

would have been in the heat of anger, not after he'd had a chance to

cool down. Bellna the princess was safe from Fallan the mercenary.

He growled again at my very innocent lack of understanding, but this

time wordlessly as he began to guide me away from the table by the arm

he held. If Clero's men took long enough finding me, I'd have Fallanbaiting

down to an exact science. It was obvious the man could threaten

me as much as he liked, but rousting me around by one arm was as much

as he could do. The game should keep me from getting bored again, and

should also go some distance toward diverting Bellna from the way she

was reacting to Fallan. The presence in my head was sending ripples of

excitement through me, more strongly than she had done earlier, a

little-girl-crush reaction to Fallan's being so close. I raised the

bottom of my dress with my left hand and tried to ignore those

feelings; would have ignored them even if they were my own. The only

thing infatuation can do for you on an assignment is end your life

rather abruptly.

It wasn't long before the four girls and I were in the coach, the men

were mounted, and we were on our way again. I kept my eyes open and my

mind intent on the scenery we passed, but a couple of hours went by and

no one jumped out of the shrubbery or fields to attack us. It seemed

strange that Clero's men weren't all over us yet, but they might have

had some delay we hadn't counted on. I was trying to calculate latest

time for them to reach me, when the coach began slowing down. There

wasn't much around, just the road through a forested area, with no inn

or other building in sight. . Being the suspicious sort, I immediately

began to wonder, but we left the road and came to a full stop and no

one came by to mention what was going on. Fallan's men dismounted and

began messing with something ahead of the coach, where I couldn't see

it. I craned around half out of the window for a minute or two, got

absolutely nowhere, then noticed that Fallan was on his way over to me.

He had dismounted along with his men, and when he reached the coach he

pulled open the door next to me.

"The next point on our itinerary has been reached, Princess," he said,

grinning faintly as he held his hand out. "You must now leave the coach for a few moments."

"Must I, indeed?" I murmured, making no effort to take the offered

hand. "And for what reason would I do such an otherwise unnecessary

thing?"

"For the reason that you are told to do so," he answered, all

friendliness gone as he reached in and took my arm. "We may not halt

here long, else it shall be noticed. We shall make haste, and then we

shall once again be on our way."

Being pulled out of a coach is not the same as being pushed into one;

if Fallan hadn't taken me around the waist as soon as I was in reach

and lifted me out to set me on the ground, I probably would have

tripped over those idiotically long skirts. Bellna was confused and

frightened and flustered and outraged all at once, a reaction I found

dizzy-making on top of my own reactions. I don't like being dragged

around and told what to do without explanation or reason, and if it

happens I tend to grow short4empered. If I hadn't been on assignment,

Fallan would have had a serious problem; since I was on assignment,

there was almost nothing I could do to show my annoyance. As soon as he

let go of me I fought those stupid skirts out of the way, then kicked

him hard right in the shins.

"How dare you treat me in so cavalier a manner!" I hissed, showing the

fury Bellna would have shown if it had been anyone other than Fallan

manhandling her. "When my father hears of this, your company will be

disbanded and you yourself ended horribly! Men will shudder at your

fate, and women will grow faint! You will be. . ."

"Silence!" Fallan roared, interrupting me just as I was really getting

rolling. He'd flinched faintly when I'd kicked him, but aside from that

he showed no reaction to my girlish attack at all. What was getting him

angry was all the threatening I was doing, which, spite and all, was

pure Bellna.

"I will not be silent!" I huffed, ready to climb back on the high horse

he'd shouted me off of, but Fallan wasn't about to give me the chance

to remount.

"You will be silent," he growled, looking down at me as he rested his

left hand on his sword hilt. "You will also obey me, for I mean to see

you safely to your destination in the most effective manner. We now go

to the tent which has been erected to protect your sensibilities.

Should you attempt to disobey me, your sensibilities will be sorely

bruised. Leave that coach, you wenches, and follow us quickly."

He took my arm then, and began leading me toward the vair at the front

of the coach at a pace faster than I could manage without half running.

At that point I could see the medium-sized green tent that had been put

up among the trees, a tent that blended into the greens and browns all

around us. Fallan's men were all very busy away from the tent they'd

put up, but it wasn't hard to tell they were watching closely to see

what would happen. I was more than curious myself about what was going

on, but sputtering indignantly was what the role called for right then,

and I was stuck with it. I squeaked in outrage as I was hustled firmly

toward that green tent, and couldn't even enjoy the faint breeze that

tickled its way through the trees.

It would have been dark inside the tent without the small lamp that

hung on the far wall. Fallan pulled me inside and released me with a

small push, then turned to watch the four peasant girls hurry in behind

him. Bellna was storming back and forth inside my head, half furiously

injured dignity, half flashes of romantic fantasizing; one minute she

wanted to see Fallan executed by her father's soldiers, the next she

wanted Fallan to throw the peasant girls out, tear her clothes off, and make violent love to her. I shook my head hard, trying to push away the

ringing in my ears and the faint flashes of golden haze in front of my

eyes, but didn't get anywhere until I turned to see Fallan right behind

me. He'd pulled closed the tent flap behind the last of the girls, and

all five of them were staring at me. Bellna froze in mid-tantrum,

suddenly convinced that something horribly final was about to happen,

causing me to take an involuntary step back from the big mercenary.

"You need have no fear, Princess," Fallan said at once, his deep voice

unusually gentle and reassuring. He stayed right where he was, his

thumbs hooked into his swordbelt, his eyes on me with more concern than

I would have expected.

"A princess feels no fear," I answered, the quaver in my voice all

Bellna's doing. "Murder me if you will, yet know that my father shall

avenge me. And I shall die as a princess should, with head held high."

I flinched inwardly as I raised my chin to match the words forced on me

by the Bellna presence, but I wasn't the only one to consider my speech

of bravery more ridiculous than dramatic. The four peasant girls

snickered among themselves and Fallan closed his eyes with a deep sigh,

both reactions startling Bellna enough to let me grab a corner of

control again. Bellna's fear and my own suspicions had let the presence

in my mind take the reins for a while, but no more than a short

struggle got them back for me. I thought about wiping my damp forehead

on the back of my sleeve, then rejected the idea. It wasn't something

Bellna would do, and it was too close in the tent for anyone to wonder

why I might be sweating.

"There is to be no murder, girl," Fallan said with thick patience,

speaking slowly and clearly. "I have brought you within this tent so

that you might give up your clothing with the privacy due your

station."

"Give up my clothing?" I echoed as I stared at him, every bit as

confused and dumbfounded as my mind-guest. "For what reason am I to

give up my clothing?"

"For the reason of your safety," Fallan answered, still heavy-voiced

with patience. "The enemies of your father must be expected to know

that you travel now to your nuptials, and must also be expected to

attempt some manner of interference. Should they descend upon us, there

will be no easy victim for their blade, shall we say, no proper victim.

The princess will not stand in her own shadow."

He ignored the way I was staring at him, totally speechless, and turned

to gesture at the redhead. She left the others and approached him, and

they both met my stare.

"This wench has been sold by her father into slavery," Fallan

explained, putting one big hand on the shoulder of the girl who now

stood in front of him. "The Lord Grigon purchased her before she might

be given over to the training of a slave, and she has been given this

vow: should she comport herself in so adequate a manner that the

enemies of the Prince believe her to be you, and should she survive

whatever attempts are made against her, she will be given her freedom

once more, and adequate gold to assure her retention of that freedom.

You must now take her clothing as she takes yours, and quickly, so that

the journey might continue. I will, of course, await you without the

tent."

So that was why the girl had hovered around me in the inn! To learn the

way a princess behaved in public! I was still staring at Fallan in

disbelief as I tried to figure out where Grigon fit into all of that,

but the big mercenary began turning away before even the faintest hint

came through. I still didn't understand what they were all up to, but one point I was crystal clear on:

Fallan was trying to replace a decoy with a decoy!

"Hold, Captain!" I said, stopping him before he could head for the tent

flap, not about to stand still for that nonsense. "My clothing will

remain in its proper place with me!"

Fallan turned back to me impatiently, but this time the jump was mine.

"Do you think me craven enough to set another to die in my place?" I

demanded, making no effort to keep the outrage from my voice. "My

father is a Prince who will never hide fearfully from his enemies; his

daughter may do no less."

There was no way I was going to let that little girl be set up for the

slaughter, no matter how eager they'd made her to give it a shot. Her

eyes were wide and pleasing as she looked at me, begging me to let her

take her chances, but she didn't know what she was asking. Even I had

no guarantees about surviving, and if she had even half the training I

did, I'd eat that tent. Without salt.

"Do you think my company so incompetent that her death is sure to be?"

Fallan demanded in turn, but gently. "Attackers, should they come, will

find no easy access to her, for that you have my word. It is our

Intention that she shall survives shall you. Remove the clothing."

"Never," I answered in as final a way as possible, meeting his eyes to

let him know I meant it. Under other circumstances the idea of hanging

on doggedly to clothes I would have loved to be rid of would have been

funny; under those circumstances, funny didn't enter into it.

"Then there is nothing for it save that I do the thing for you," Fallan

said, with the same finality. "Should this be other than that which you

wish, your own efforts must be made upon the moment."

Slowly he began to close the four or five steps between us, the calm

expression in his eyes saying he sympathized with my stand but had no

intentions of letting me keep to it. I felt a flash of burning hot

resentment behind my eyes, the sort that comes from someone who isn't

used to not getting her own way, and quickly wiped away the annoyance I

was feeling. If my reactions merged with Bellna's I would be the loser,

and if I was stupid enough to forget that, I deserved whatever got. I

didn't like having Fallan telling me what to do, but there was more

freedom of option in that situation than in having Bellna take over.

Fallan was two steps closer and just beginning to reach a hand out when

the grip of my control over myself stopped slipping enough for me to

raise the bottom of my skirts and try to make a break for it.

Fallan stood between me and the tent flap, but there was enough room in

the dim tent for a lot of dodging and fancy footwork. I ran three full

steps to the left then dodged right, avoiding Fallan's grab by a wish

and the rustle of skirts. The mercenary cursed in a low voice at the

miss, but I was already past him and on the way to the tent flap. The

four peasant girls looked and gasped and drew back from the chase but,

unfortunately for me, in the wrong direction. They clumped up in front

of the flap I needed to get out of the tent, and Fallan was too close

behind me to let me take the time I needed to plow through the girls. I

moved to my left again and darted away, and again Fallan cursed when

his hand closed on empty air. He was faster than a man his size had the

right to be, and Bellna was silent and shocked inside my head. She'd

expected to be able to get away from him easily, and now that she-Ihadn't,

she was starting to get worried.

I led Fallan around the tent, avoiding half of his grabs by sheer luck,

trying to work my way back toward the tent flap, but this time from the

right. From that direction, along the front wall, the four girls ought

to scatter to the left, away from the flap, giving me clear running room. Fallan tried cornering me against the side wall we were near,

watched carefully as I bobbed back and forth in front of him, saw the

feint I made to my right, then lunged to my left, where he thought I

was going. To his disgust I continued on to my right, turning the feint

into real motion, and blasted at top speed right toward the flap. I was

so covered with sweat that it rolled down my forehead to burn my eyes,

but I couldn't let that stop me. Once I was outside I would lose Fallan

and his friends fast, backtrack to the inn we'd stopped at, then burst

hysterically in, telling everyone that my escort had tried to

assassinate me. That would keep Fallan away if he managed to follow,

and also spread the word with the departing. travelers as to where the

Princess Bellna could be found. If Clero's men didn't show up after

that, I would throw in the towel.

The four girls squeaked again, and began scattering like a flock of

ducks in hunting season. I took a chance and swiped at my eyes with the

back of my sleeve, trying to clear my vision, and because of that

didn't see the slim leg stretched out directly in my path. I did notice

it, though, as soon as I tripped over it, tried to recover, and didn't

quite make it. The grassy ground the tent had been pitched over came up

to knock the wind out of me, but as soon as I could I started to roll,

silly enough to think I still had a chance. I'd forgotten about those

stupid skirts again, and Fallan was on me before I could fight them out

of my way.

"No, no, you will not again take to your heels," Fallan panted as I

struggled to avoid his reaching hands and scramble to my feet. "Timely

assistance has brought you down, and I will see that you remain so."

As his hands closed on my wrists I felt Bellna's panic, and an instant

later my own panic joined hers. She was flowing toward my store of

unarmed aggressive techniques, determined to use them on Fallan the way

I'd used one of them on Valdon! If that didn't send every-thing sky

high nothing would, and instead of having just Fallan to struggle with,

I found myself in a double fight. Fallan forced my arms away from

between us and pinned my body with his, drawing a scream of rage from

Bellna and an increase in her struggles. I say her struggles because

I'd lost that much control, finding myself dragged along as most of my

power of denial covered the one file of information I couldn't afford

to let Bellna have. My body writhed and twisted on the ground, my feet

kicking the way my mind kicked, and then the Lord of Luck came to my

rescue again. Bellna's struggles had brought Fallan's arm close to my

face, and by timing the effort I was able to make my teeth close on

that arm. Fallan bellowed and pulled away as Bellna froze again in

fear, and then I was all alone and hack in control-just in time for

Fallan's open-handed slap. My ears rang from that slap and my cheek

flamed hotter than the stifling air of the tent, but at least those

parts were mine again. I saw Fallan raise his arm for another slap and

cringed back in true Bellna style, but that seemed to make the

mercenary change his mind.

"There has been more than enough of this foolishness," he growled,

lowering his arm without swinging at me a second time. "Remove her from

this clothing at once."

He pulled me into a sitting position, locked one fist in my hair, then

moved as far to my left as he could, to be out of the way of the three

dark-haired girls. The three girls had come on the run at his growl,

but the fourth, the redhead, just stood to one side and watched me. Her

young, pretty face showed no signs of triumph or smug satisfaction, but

her light eyes were filled with trembling determination. She was the

one who had tripped me, of course, and all for the privilege of being set up as a target. I suddenly realized how much freedom meant to her,

and looked away in resignation. To prefer death to lifelong slavery was

a philosophy I could identify with, even if it did make my job that

much harder.

The three girls near me started unlacing my boots, their heads down to

cover their amusement at my discomfort. Having your boots unlaced is no

big thing, but that wasn't the way Bellna looked at it. She knew that

after the boots the rest of my things would be taken, and was also

overly aware of Fallen beside me, his big hand tight in my hair. She

and I would be stripped naked in front of Fallan, and although I

couldn't have cared less, Bellna was still young enough and innocent

enough to feel the hot-glowing flash of embarrassment. I didn't need a

mirror to know I was blushing like a failure light on a pilot's board,

and to say I was uncomfortable would be the understatement of the week.

I had control and I would keep it, but that didn't mean I wasn't paying

the price.

Both of my boots were pulled off at just about the same time, and then

the girls came away from my feet to tackle the light blue dress. Trying

to push them away accomplished no more than making two of the girls

each take one of my arms, leaving the third free to work on the dress.

I struggled ineffectively as it was opened and then pulled off first my

arms and then down past my legs, and couldn't help struggling even

harder when the underdress was lifted up. That couldn't be slipped off

around my feet, and the girls needed Fallan's help to get it free. His

arm around my waist held me relatively still while my arms windmilled

and my hands tried to hang onto the underdress, but the three girls

pulled it off and tossed it away out of my reach.

"My, my, what lovely, delicate, feminine underthings," Fallan drawled

over my shoulder, obviously looking at the lower part of my underwear.

"Had I known what beauty lay beneath those skirts, I well might have

contrived to see it the sooner."

The three girls added their giggles to Fallan's chuckle, and I couldn't

hold back the mortified wail that came from Bellna. I was burning up

with the humiliation flaming through me, but swinging my arms back in

an attempt to hit Fallan did me no good at all. he caught my wrists and

held them behind me, clearing the way for one of the girls to reach to

the lacings on my underbodice, at the same time looking over my

shoulder to watch the process with grinning interest. Fallan was

getting even for everything I'd done to him, and at that point I would

have done my damnedest to take him apart if I could have gotten loose,

but I couldn't get loose. I could only pull at his hands on my wrists

as I sat with legs straight out in front of me, and watch myself being

stripped.

The grinning girl undoing the lacings moved as slowly as possible,

trying to increase my misery and Fallan's interest. As the bodice

opened wider and wider, I be-came aware of how close Fallan's face was

to mine; inside my mind Bellna shivered, and all at once she was

fantasizing. In her fantasy Fallan reached one hand over rn~y far

shoulder, slipped it inside the half opened bodice, squeezed slowly and

with infinite relish, then went on to make violent love to her. I would

have thought she'd had enough of violence, but some girls are never

satisfied. I suffered in silence as Bellna fantasized and the darkhaired

girl took her time opening the lacings, but at least fantasy

didn't turn into reality. The real Fallan kept his hands to himself,

satisfying his thirst for revenge with no more than words.

"Those breasts could do with a bit of sun," he observed, his tone

thoughtful and faintly critical as the bodice was pushed all the way open "A bit less confinement might also increase their size."

The girls near me giggled again, enjoying Fallan's putdown, and Bellna

was too wrapped up in her daydreaming to notice. That left the option

to me again, and I didn't mind taking it up.

"Your disapproval of my form devastates me, Captain," I said, turning

my head to look at his very near profile. "How fortunate I am that it

is another I must please, and not you."

"Fortunate, indeed," he drawled, turning his head to look me in the

eye. "I am not a man to be easily pleased, as many a wench has already

learned."

"Some men do come rather late to their manhood," I allowed with a

compassionate smile. "Have patience, Captain, and do not despair. One

day you, too, will he pleased as easily as other men."

The girls around me flinched in silent pain, staring wide-eyed at the

thunder my deliberate misinterpretation of Fallan's meaning put in the

big mercenary's eyes. I was skating close to the edge by insulting him

that way, but he couldn't say he hadn't asked for it. Besides, life

without risk is no more than existence.

"How good of you to be concerned regarding my manhood, Princess," he

said at last, obviously trying to control the rasp in his voice as well

as the look in his eyes. "It must be of considerable interest to you,

to cause so great a concern."

The girls tried to giggle at his comeback, but the laughter came off

rather flat, just like Fallan's try. But he was trying, which meant he

hoped to learn the game; could I do less than attempt to teach it to

him?

"Alas, Captain, I find it beyond me to aspire to one such as you," I

sighed, trying hard to keep the drawl out of my tone. "I am resigned to

having no more than that which I already possess, meager as that

position is."

"Resigned," he echoed, studying me thoughtfully and with considerably

less anger than I had expected. "I find it difficult to believe,

Princess, that one such as you finds it necessary to be resigned to any

matter whatsoever. Though the pink of embarrassment remains in your

cheeks, still do you strive to give me blow for blow in defense against

attack. Were you a boy and of the proper background, I would take you

in my company and teach you the weapons of a man. However, as you are

not a boy and therefore in need of learning the benefits of maidenly

silent fear I must further bruise your sensibilities."

A lighthearted grin lit up his ugly face as he said that, and I didn't

even have the time to wonder what he was up to. He turned my wrists

loose so suddenly I was startled, pulled the underbodice off in one

sharp motion, then had me around the waist before I could even begin to

react. Bellna's wail sounded in my head as Fallan threw me face down on

the ground, put his knee in my hack, and pulled open the tie at my

waist. he was doing it by the numbers, the bastard, and the last number

was to begin working off the lace-layered undies, as slowly as the girl

had unlaced the bodice, letting his palms touch my flesh only very

briefly and once in a long while. I screamed with the unbearable

outrage and unbearable desire Bellna was sending through me, kicking

and struggling as if I really expected to get loose, silently cursing

Fallan for playing the game his own way. Using his own rules there was

no way he could lose, which was, of course, the whole point.

"And so much for the last of the clothing of a Princess, Fallan said,

drawing off the lace undies from my legs and tossing them away. "When

once you have dressed again, Missy, you will be no more than a servant

to a Princess. You need not be concerned over recalling such a novel position; I have already seen to the matter to assure your memory of

the thing. Hurry now, wenches, and assist the new Princess in

dressing."

The three girls who had been helping Fallan turned immediately to the

redhead, who was already beginning to get out of her clothes. Fallan's

knee continued to keep me face down in the dirt and grass, which was

playing hell with my struggle to stay in control. Bellna was terribly

aware of how close Fallan was, while she lay there stark naked. I could

feel the heat all over my body from her embarrassment, and could also

feel her out-of-control arousal. She kept expecting Fallan to touch her

in some way, preferably intimately, but the redhead was hurriedly laced

and stuffed into my sweaty clothes and nothing like that happened. I

tried to make myself aware of how good it felt being out of clothing,

but Bellna's sense of humiliation was too strong to overcome. I

squirmed under Fallan's knee in silent protest, inwardly cursing Fallan

and Bellna, but it wasn't what one might consider an effective effort.

When the girls began lacing up my boots on the redhead, Fallan's weight

was suddenly gone from my back. My own first reaction was to get to my

feet, but Bellna's feelings were stronger than mine and they dragged

mine along. On the ground Bellna had some small amount of modesty

protection; upright there would be nothing more than what my hands

could cover, which wasn't much. A thin, golden haze began obscuring my

vision, and I discovered I had lost the battle for control when I tried

to move and nothing happened. A flash of frustrated anger touched me,

whirling in with the other emotions storming around inside me.

"You may now arise and begin dressing, Missy," Fallan spoke from behind

me, a casual pat on my horribly bare bottom coming just before the

sound of his rising. "It will take no more than a moment for you to do

so, I know, for I mean to remain here and direct you."

"You cannot!" I wailed, mortified at the thought of being arrayed so

openly before him. "And how may I dress when that-that-peasant has been

given my clothing?"

"That is the princess you speak of, girl, and you no more than the

peasant," the brute replied, a chuckle to be heard in his vile tone.

His hand took my arm and. forced me to my feet despite my protests,

despite the enormity of such a thing. I searched within me for the new

knowledge which would cause him harm for the thing he dared, yet it was

covered and kept from me by some means. Instead of finding myself able

to chastise him, I was able to do no more than stand with my hands

before me, knowing the concealment pitifully inadequate, trembling at

the amusement which took him. Deep in my heart I knew I would not find

myself able to struggle if he were to step forward and take me in his

arms, yet he made no attempt to do so. There were none to halt him

there, and none who would dare speak of it were he to thrust himself

within me, yet he made no attempt to do so.

"That tinge of red does you no justice, girl," the beast chuckled,

sending his gaze to touch every part of me. "Were you not red-haired it

would perhaps be attractive, but as you are best you dress quickly."

I had no wish to don the crude trappings of a peasant, yet how might I

refuse to cover myself against the stare of the brute? The skirt

brought me was a plum print, the badly made bodice a thin once-white,

the heavy' shawl dyed an uneven green. Additional insult was given me

in that none of the servants brought to furnish service to me lifted

even a single hand in assistance. Out of necessity, then, I covered my

own body, and when the shawl was tied about my waist the mercenary

Fallan stepped closer to look down upon me.

"The lines of your body are more easily seen through clothing such as that," he murmured, a glint in the dark of his eyes. "Best you stay

close to me when you are without the coach, else I may not be able to

answer for your safety. Men are no more than men, most considering

peasant girls theirs for the taking. None will pause to ask if you are

indeed a peasant."

He turned from me then to gesture the others from the tent, and then it

was me back in control again and not Bellna. I was startled that she'd

given up so abruptly, without anything like a struggle, but while I was

taking a deep breath and tightening my grip on the control, f found her

quaking back in a corner of my mind. Fallan had frightened her badly

when he'd told her how men would react to her, and her imagination was

picturing her being raped by men without number, none of them Fallan.

She wanted Fallan so badly my body burned with the need, but she didn't

want any part of a gang rape by strangers. I can't say how relieved I

was that she looked at it like that, but it's amusing only to think

about afterward. At the time the only consideration involved was that

if she had liked the idea, it would have been my body taking the

punishment.

Fallan lifted the tent flap and let the "princess" and her servants

leave the tent first, then pushed me out after them with a hand in the

middle of my back. He came out right behind me, calling to his men to

get the tent folded and put away even as he followed us to the coach.

The redhead was trying not to move stiffly in her new finery, but the

weight of it was already beginning to get to her. She moved her head in

discomfort, trying to loosen her collar and let in some of the fresh

forest air, and Fallan passed me in two strides to catch up to her.

"You must not hold yourself so timidly," he instructed her, his voice

gentle and supportive as he looked down at her. "You must be as bold

and arrogant as the true princess is, for now you are she. Think of the

gold you will have when this chore is done, and think of the awe and

respect which will be yours when you return among your people. Think

also of the insult which you may give others, without fear of reprisal;

you should, by now, be well schooled in that subject at the very

least."

All four of the girls giggled at the dryness in Fallan's voice, knowing

exactly who the butt of his' humor was. I knew it too, but right then I

couldn't have cared less; I was too busy backing away from the coach,

just about ready to make a break for it. No matter how good Fallan was,

he'd never catch me once I was into the woods, and then I could finish

up that assignment the right way. I backed up another step, then

another, almost ready to turn-and backed right into a hard, male body.

"You mistake your direction, wench," a voice came from the body I'd

backed into, causing me to turn my head fast. The mercenary Ralnor

stood there, the one who was Fallan's lieutenant, a faint grin of

amusement on his handsome face. His hand came up to take my arm in a

deliberately heavy grip and Bellna, remembering what the man had done

to the redhead, began quaking even harder in her corner.

"Should there be a mistake, it is certainly on your part," I told him,

fighting hard to keep from growling as Bellna's shivering had a

tendency to make me do. Remove your hand from my arm, and do so

immediately."

"What occurs here?" Fallan demanded, coming up behind me in time to see

the grin disappear from Ralnor's face. Fallan's lieutenant was no

longer amused, and that suited me just fine.

"Captain, I caught the wench attempting to take herself off," Ralnor

said with a growl of his own, his hand tightening even more on my arm.

"Allow me to punish her for you." His pretty eyes looked at me with a hardness that was supposed to be

intimidating; instead of feeling intimidated, all I wanted to do was

offer him his best shot. Unfortunately, the role I was committed to

didn't even let me pull my arm free of his hand; the only weapon I

could use was words.

"As you realize you must ask permission before offering me harm, you

must also realize what will befall you should you attempt the deed

under any circumstances," I said in my coldest tone, holding his eyes

the way Bellna would have if she were a little older and more mature.

"It has clearly slipped your mind to whom you give insult, Lieutenant.

Were I you, I would retract that insult."

"And yet you are not I, wench," Ralnor answered through his teeth,

tightening his grip again to the point where I winced against the pain.

"No wench, neither peasant nor princess, may speak to me as you do.

Such insolence demands a reckoning, and I shall. . ."

"Do naught," Fallan interrupted, wrapping his hand around Ralnor's

wrist and pulling his fingers away from my arm. "Do you forget the oath

we have sworn, Ralnor? Do you forget the cautions we were given? You

declared yourself able to withstand even the haughtiest of princesses.

Were you mistaken in the judgment of your strength?"

"Perhaps . . . merely in my capacity for patience, Captain," the other

man grudged, backing down as gracefully as his still-present anger

would allow. "I had not meant to approach the wench after the earlier

words exchanged between us, and did not; it was I who was approached,

and in an unexpected manner. I will now take myself elsewhere, where I

will not place our company in jeopardy."

He gave me a last glare then turned and walked off, heading toward a

group of men tending their vair. I rubbed at my arm where his grip had

probably left fingerprints, wondering exactly why I'd gotten into an

argument with the man, and Fallan turned from watching Ralnor's

receding back to look down at me with less than friendliness.

"Such a thing will not occur again, Missy," he growled, with a look in

his eyes that made Ralnor's glare a smile by comparison. "That my men

and I are pledged to your safety does not mean you may address us as

you please. Had Ralnor less control of his own temper, that overbearing

temper you display would surely have been properly trimmed. Let me see

your arm."

I'd thought I'd been doing my rubbing surreptitiously, but eagle-eye

Fallan had spotted it anyway. He pushed my other hand away and took my

arm with such unexpected gentleness that for once I was more surprised

than Bellna. Just below the short sleeve of my new blouse angry red

fingermarks could be seen, a couple of which were bound to turn into

bruises. Fallan inspected the arm and marks with no expression on his

face, then raised his gaze to mine again.

"I regret that skin so fair and soft must know the results of a man's

anger," he said, looking much too deeply into my eyes. "The fault is

mine, for I should not have let you move from my side. Where did you

think to go other than to the coach?"

"I w-wished to avail my-myself of the bushes hereabout," I stuttered,

sounding and feeling like a little girl whose arm was still being held

by the man she was beginning to be terribly in love with. Bellna's

throbbing was racing all through me, showing she didn't have to be in

control to make me act like an idiot. I could feel Fallan's warmth

through my arm where his big hand touched me, could see how he looked

at my body through the thin cloth covering it, could taste how badly my

arousal wanted satisfaction from him. With all that against me I found

it impossible not to tremble, and a faint grin lightened the near-

ugliness of his face.

"You should have spoken to me of the need," he said, taking my hand

instead of my arm. "It would have been my pleasure to escort you to the

privacy which is yours by right. As I shall do now. Follow me, wench."

Bellna fluttered again, thrilled with the way he called me "wench," and

I discovered that the story I'd come up with on the spur of the moment

wasn't just a story any longer. I really did need some bushes, and

maybe then I'd be able to reclaim the rest of my bodily functions. I

let Fallan guide me to a ring of greenery to one side of the clearing,

discovered there was no way of sneaking out again without someone

noticing, did what I had to, then let him take me back to the coach

again. The bushes offer was made to the four girls and accepted by

them, giving me the faint hope that I'd be left alone by the coach, but

no such luck. Fallan stayed with me while the girls guided themselves,

and when they came back he helped the "princess" in first.

"And now the rest of you may enter," he said, giving the others a hand

before he turned to me. "When the next inn is reached, Missy, you and

the other wenches will take yourselves to the kitchens, as was

previously done. The princess will be served by the inn girls, allowing

her servants a time of rest. I trust there will be no confusion as to

which place is yours."

"I am well aware of which place is mine," I answered with a pout,

trying hard to shove Bellna's reactions away from me. "Equally am I

aware that that place has been taken from me. Which of the others will

serve me in the kitchens?"

"None will serve you in the kitchens," Fallan answered with something

of a sigh as he leaned one hand against the coach above my head. "You

will be required to serve yourself, and my men and I as well. You are

to be a peasant wench, and convincingly, else shall I be forced to

punish you soundly. Far better a strapping at my hands, than a sword in

the throat from those who seek your life. Your safety will be assuredat

whatever cost."

His eye said he'd just given me his word, but that was all he was

giving me; rather than letting me have the time to argue, he hustled me

up the steps into the coach, and slammed the door on me. I was able to

climb over all the legs and get to my seat on the far side before the

coach moved off again, but the lurching start shifted me over toward

the redhead. She looked at me distantly and gathered her skirts closer

to her, making sure the peasant didn't dirty them by being too near

them, and the other three girls giggled in appreciation. The redhead

had picked up the necessary attitudes of Tildorani nobility, and was

practicing them on me in the same way I'd done with her. Bellna was

huffing inside my head, ready to be insulted, but I had other things to

think about. I moved all the way over to my side of the seat, ignored

the giggling, whispering girls, and brooded at the forest flowing past.

Right at that moment, I couldn't decide whether Bellna or Fallan was my

biggest problem. Fallan was alternating between threats and sweettalking,

a tactic designed to put a young girl off balance and keep her

that way. Bellna was reacting just the way Fallan wanted her to, and

her unbridled reactions were throwing me off balance. As I sat and

stared at the forest the road wound through, my unwelcome guest was

sighing and thinking about the way Fallan had treated her. Treated me.

Hell, treated both of us. He hadn't liked the way I'd argued with

Ralnor, but the marks on my arm had seemed to really bother him.

Bellna's reactions to his small kindnesses were making me begin to like

Fallan the mercenary, and I couldn't afford to like him. I was on an

assignment that would undoubtedly produce a whole lot of dead bodies all around me, and I couldn't afford to find myself in the position of

having liked one of them. The sort of emotions evoked at a time like

that are not conducive to survival.

I sighed and shifted my bare feet on the floorboards of the coach,

feeling the repugnance Bellna felt at the sensation. She had never been

made to go barefoot before in her entire life, and her over-awareness

of the state was enough to divert part of her attention from thoughts

of Fallan. It annoyed her that that indignity had been forced on her by

Fallan himself, but she was ready to forgive him grudgingly-if he

continued to act as though she might be important to him in some way. I

wondered about that, about why he was concerning himself so directly

with the young girl in his charge, but could only guess when it came to

drawing conclusions. It wasn't likely that he was seriously interested

in her, not when she was a princess already promised in marriage to the

crown prince of Narella. Attachments like that were formed only in

fiction; real-life, practical men knew better, and if nothing else,

Fallan seemed practical. He was probably only trying to make life

easier on himself by having Bellna too starry-eyed to give him a hard

time. Or too wide-eyed by his threats, the latest of which had done

exactly that to her. He had said he would beat me if I didn't act like

the peasant I was supposed to be, but somehow I still didn't believe

him. It wasn't the sort of thing a mercenary could get away with, even

in the name of protection. Fallan was probably hoping that if he said

it calmly and seriously enough, Bellna the child would believe it.

Unfortunately for him he wasn't dealing with Bellna, and I didn't like

the arrangements he'd made with the redhead. I leaned back on the coach

seat and closed my eyes on the decision that I'd have to push the good

captain a little more, and sabotage his plans if at all possible. I was

the one getting paid to take the risks; the idea of overprotecting a

decoy was absurd.

The distance to the next inn wasn't far enough to let me do more than

grab a catnap. When the captain of Bellna's mercenaries came to hand

her out of the coach, all of us, including the new princess, were given

a surprise. The man wearing the captain's neck scaff was Ralnor, and he

was the picture of courtesy to the redhead. Fallan, now a lieutenant,

gathered the rest of us "girls" together, and herded us along after his

captain and our princess. The rest of the mercenaries took up their

places around and behind us, and we repeated our parade to the inn.

After Ralnor and Fallan checked out the interior we went inside, were

immediately noticed by the tall, slightly pot-bellied man who was the

innkeeper, then went through the same revelation scene we had at the

previous inn. I'd decided to wait for the 'grand announcement before

making my move, so' when the innkeeper was gasping in shocked delight I

began to step forward-and discovered that Fallan hadn't counted on my

being intimidated by his threats. Three of his men were inches away

from me at left, right and back, and the disguised captain himself was

right in front of me. I took no more than that one short step before

finding myself in a box of hefty male bodies, and seconds later our

party had separated, the redhead and Ralnor being led to a table,

Fallan and six of his men, the three girls and I all moving toward a

door in the far wall. With all eyes in the place on the "princess," no

one noticed that one of the peasant girls wasn't moving entirely on her

own. I noticed it, of course, but there wasn't much I could do and

still stay in character. Shouting over wide shoulders or past thick

arms wouldn't be very effective, but that was the only option Fallan

had left open to me.

The door in the far wall let us into a big, stuffy room filled with the odor of cooking food. Four women in peasant dress hurried from pot to

pan to preparation table to fire, sweat on their faces and boredom in

their eyes. Five girls hurried around filling wine jugs and collecting

goblets, three male slaves in chains lugged heavy sacks or carried

armioads of wood, and two men wearing yellow and white neck scarves and

very obvious swords stood and watched the hurry all around them without

sharing in it. The two armed men were house guards, and when they saw

Fallan and his huskies they straightened and came away from the wall

they'd been leaning on

"Calmly," Fallan called, holding one hand up, palm outward, toward the

two men. "Our Company rides in the service of the Princess Bellna, who

now pauses for refreshment in your house. We, ourselves, are here to

assist you in guarding the pots - as well as help to ourselves to a bit

of the best of them. Are there any about it would be wise to look upon

with suspicion?"

"None save yourselves," answered one of the men, a dark-haired, darkeyed,

almost-match to Fallan. He was grinning faintly to show he might

be joking, but he and the other man kept their backs to the wall and

their hands not far from their hilts.

"Well spoken," Fallan nodded, clearly in approval. "To accept my word

would be foolishness on your part. It would undoubtedly be best if you

were to..."

"Why do you all stand about gawping?" a sudden voice demanded, and we

turned to see the innkeeper in the doorway. "The Princess Bellna honors

my house with her presence, and those in my service take their ease

while my wine sours and my food burns! To your work, all of you, and

that as quickly as you value your freedom - or skins!"

The women and girls, who had obviously been watching the exchange

between Fallan and the house guards, paled at the snap in the

innkeeper's voice and immediately turned back to what they'd been

doing. The three slaves, dressed in filthy rags tied around their

middles, short, heavy chains, and a good selection of whip marks, also

worked at looking busy, two of them shuffling out of the room on some

errand or other. The only ones not upset by the innkeeper's threat were

the house guards, who finally relaxed from the stiffened, ready

position they'd been in, and sauntered over closer to be heard over the

unending fl6w of commands coming out of their employer.

"Were you about to suggest that we await the arrival of the innkeeper,

the suggestion was sound," the dark-haired guard told Fallan with a

grin. "It is now clear that you are honored guests, and may be offered

a cup or two when the hubbub has finally quieted."

"A cup or two would be well received," Fallan said with an amiable nod,

turning his head to watch the frantically hurrying girls and women, who

were being commanded to even greater speed by the innkeeper. "A pity

this hubbub will be awhile in quieting."

The guard raised his brows in doubt before also looking at the goingson,

but Fallan turned out to be right. The hurrying back and forth took

forever to be over, and once it was, half the contents of the kitchen

was gone. I remembered all the courses I'd been offered at the last

inn, and hoped the redhead was hungry. If it had still been me in her

place, I couldn't have eaten a thing.

"You wenches may now serve us and take your own fare," Fallan announced

in the sudden peace and quiet, stretching where he stood near the house

guards. "I will have a bowl of that root soup and a cut of light bread,

but first of all a cup of wine."

"Bring wine for all, including us," the dark-haired house guard

amended, looking over at the three girls near me and then, last of all, me. Bellna gasped and backed trembling into her corner at that look,

and the guard showed a faint grin. "With your permission, Lieutenant, I

would have that red-haired one serve me," he said to Fallan without

looking at him. "Is she yours or your captain's?"

"Neither," Fallan answered, putting his hand on the man's shoulder

while joining his stare. "Her service belongs to the Princess, a fact

she is well aware of. By cause of that fact, her actions when out of

sight of the Princess are much like those of the Princess herself. Her

service to us is clumsy, reluctant and far from pleasing, for she

believes the Princess will protect her from our wrath. For the sake of

your temper, you would be wise to choose another."

"For the sake of my eyesight, however, there is no other choice," the

man laughed in answer, still watching me. "Have her fetch our wine."

"As you please," Fallan agreed with a shrug in his voice, but his eyes

were a lot less unconcerned. "Fetch two cups of wine, wench, and see

that you do so in an acceptable manner. Should you be beaten the

Princess may well be furious, yet will you still have received the

beating."

I tossed my head and turned away from them, annoyed as all hell that

Fallan had boxed me up so neatly. If I refused to serve them, Fallan

would have to beat me, or the house guards would surely get suspicious.

The role I was committed to would let me do not a single thing to stop

him, which meant that if I didn't want to be beaten, I'd have to avoid

it rather than stop it. I stalked over to the three peasant girls

already working on getting wine and food together for Fallan and his

men, ignored their smirks, and appropriated two goblets of wine. Since

the goblets had been poured for and by someone else that took care of

the smirks, but I didn't care if the girls were displeased with me. If

they didn't like what I was doing, they could complain to the princess.

I carried the two goblets of wine over to Fallan and his new friend,

not paying any attention to how much was spilling onto the floor as I

moved briskly along. Fallan had laid down the parameters of my new

role, and the character he had drawn wouldn't have cared if all of the

wine had ended up on the floor. The two men watched me approach, Fallan

annoyed but the house guard grinning, and I toyed briefly with the idea

of seeing how well the two of them would look wearing the wine. It

seemed like a dandy idea to me just an accident, of course but I

suddenly became aware of the fact that my mind guest didn't agree.

Somehow, the Bellna presence had picked up the thought I'd been toying

with and had nearly gone into shock over it, then had begun pouring out

flash after flash of nearly pure panic. Her attention was focused more

on the house guard than on Fallan, and I was reluctantly forced to

agree with her conviction that he would not find having wine spilled

all over him at all amusing. As soon as I decided against the accident

Bellna's panic calmed a good deal, proving that she was picking up my

intentions. I would have enjoyed looking a little further into the new

development, but Fallan and the guard were stepping forward and

reaching for the goblets.

"Clumsy, as you said, yet commendably swift," the guard remarked, still

grinning as he sipped at the wine he'd taken from me. "A wench clearly

trainable by one who is willing to spend the time. Does the Princess

mean to pass the darkness with us?"

"No," Fallan answered after taking a good swallow from his own goblet.

"We depart as soon as her meal is done."

"A pity," the house guard murmured, half his face hidden behind his

goblet as he drank. Only his eyes remained visible, and the look in

them sent a shudder through Bellna, which she helpfully passed on to me. I didn't much care for the house guard either, but Bellna seemed

really afraid of him. I faded back as the two men began discussing

employment opportunities available to mercenaries in Narella, and was

rewarded with Bellna's sigh of relief. She would have enjoyed staying

near Fallan, but with the house guard there, she was happier being a

good distance away.

The thought of distance brought back my previous thoughts of separating

myself from Fallan and his game, which was still a point well worth

considering. I stood to one side of the big kitchen watching the three

peasant girls hurrying back and forth with wine and food for Fallan and

his men, wondering if the damage had already been done. At that point I

couldn't very well go back to the first inn we'd stopped at, but the

present inn would do just as well if I could have access to it without

Fallan and his group being there. I wasn't worried about the innkeeper

believing my story-there was a great deal of difference between peasant

and princess on that world, and a few minutes of conversation with the

man would prove everything I said. No; the biggest problem was the

question of which of us Clero's men would find and zero in on, me or

the coach and the redhead. I was more than well aware of the fact that

Damyon's project would be a success whichever way the choice went, but

being that practical was beyond me just then. If Clero's men attacked

the coach the redhead and the other three girls would die, right along

with Fallan and any of his men who tried to stop them. I was the only

one who knew how well mounted that attack was sure to be, but I

couldn't tell anyone, least of all Fallan. Making a fuss at the inn was

the only chance I had of drawing the heat away from the others and back

to someone who had a chance of surviving it; letting it go on the easy

way was something I couldn't live with.

As soon as all the men were served, my three ex-servants began putting

together their own meal. I'd been drifting aimlessly around the edges

of the kitchen, passing every doorway in it and trying to decide which

of them led outside. Two of them did without a doubt, but Fallan's eyes

had been on me the whole time I'd been near them, showing he didn't

intend to be caught asleep at the switch. I could have beat out Fallan

in any footrace ever proposed, but our little to-do in the tent a short

while earlier had shown me I would need overland travel mode to do a

real job of it. Overland travel mode lets an agent draw on his or her

entire bodily resources, which makes it very draining even when used

for only a short while. During that short while, however, speed and

endurance are improved by a minimum factor of five, which makes for one

hell of a spectacular show. I could put on that show in the middle of a

forest, with no one but insects, birds, and animals watching, but not

in the close environs of that inn. Near the inn I'd have to use normal

speed, and Fallan had shown me just how fast he could be. If I didn't

want to take the chance of being run down I'd have to find another way

out of that kitchen, one that would keep Fallan unsuspicious until I

had a good enough lead. It took two circuits of the kitchen and five

minutes' worth of should-I-shouldn't-I, but I finally settled on the

doorway the slaves had been using.

A doorway was just what it was, doorless and dim and undoubtedly the

access to an attached storeroom. Most storerooms had doors leading to

the outside, but even if they didn't they usually had windows. Fallan

had ignored me when I'd passed that doorway, which made it a good bet

even if I had to loosen a couple of boards in the wall at the back.

When I neared it the third time, no one in the room was looking my way,

not even the three slaves, which made it definitely the time to go. I

took two more steps, then slipped through into the dimness. Wooden crates, kegs, and sacks almost filled the room, leaving no more

than a couple of narrow aisles with which to reach the back. I slipped

through the congestion to the second aisle, the one farthest from the

doorway, and headed back to see what there was to see. There were large

stacks of firewood, sacks of vegetables, boxes of salted meat, cases of

wine, kegs of ale, stands of goblets, racks of bone plate but no doors

or windows. I worked my way all the way back, using the glow of two

small lamps on the wall to keep from tripping and killing myself, but

it was a waste of time. No doors, no windows, and heavy wooden logs for

walls rather than kickable slats. The semi-darkness wasn't even a cool

darkness, and when I saw three piles of ragged bedding below three

metal rings set into the walls, I pitied the slaves. In full summer

that storage room would be an oven, in winter a true refrigerator, but

that was where they were probably chained very night. If I could have

broken out and left the way open for them I would have done it, but

breaking out of a room like that was beyond the resources then at my

command. I moved the top of my blouse down a little against the

closeness, then turned to retrace my steps out of that dead end.

"An excellent beginning," he said in a very soft voice as I stopped

short with a gasp. "I will be pleased to assist with the removal of the

entire bodice, therefore you need concern yourself no further. The

pleasure will be entirely mine."

"You may not touch me!" I said in an overshrill voice, that and the

heavy fear turning my heartbeat into a thud all through the courtesy of

Bellna. The man was the dark-haired house guard, of course, and it was

clear that not everyone had been looking the other way when I'd entered

the storeroom.

"May I not?" he grinned, moving forward slowly and making me back away.

"There are many things one may not do, yet are they done over and

again. The Princess, I understand, would pout and protest if her

favored wench were to be put beneath a man, yet such protest would not

occur if she was unaware of the doing. You will give me service on your

back, pretty wench, and afterward say nothing of that service, else

shall those who count themselves friend to me see that you are taken

from your place and sold as a slave. Do you understand?"

"No," I moaned, trembling with Bellna's terror and nearly out of

control. There was no need to look around for a way out because there

was none; the only way out lay past the man who continued to advance on

me.. I also continued backing, shaking my head numbly, and then I

struck the wall. The contact seemed to be the final shock, and my mouth

flew open, ready to release the scream of abject terror in my throat,

yet the mercenary before me was prepared. As quickly as my mouth

opened, so quickly was a cloth thrust in, and then was I taken by the

arms and lowered to the filthy rags piled upon the floor.

"Silence is best when engaged in an activity of this sort," he

chuckled, lowering himself to one knee above me. "Your moans of

pleasure will be lost to me I know, yet one must make sacrifices in

such instances. My, my, what have we here?"

His hands had gone into the top of my bodice, and the touch of them

upon my breasts was an even greater spur to my terror. He was clearly

the sort I had been warned of, the sort who would take my use without

leave merely because he thought me a peasant. I reached for the cloth

to pull it from my mouth, yet he took my wrists and held them in one

large, merciless hand.

"Ah, no, my pretty, you must recall the need for silence," he

whispered, grinning well at the fear he was able to see in my eyes..

"Far better that we seek what other treasures lie beneath this cloth." His free hand touched my leg, rose upon it beneath the thin skirt, and

then I was back again, Bellna gibbering in fear in her favorite corner.

Her panic was still racing through me, sapping my strength and reason,

and her relinquishment of control was almost too late. The house guard

slid his hand onto my thigh, making my head ring with Bellna's screams,

and I just couldn't help myself. I had to do something to make him let

me go, even if it blew my role straight out of existence. The bastard

had my wrists pinned, but that still left me free to raise both legs

and kick him in his face and chest. He released my wrists as he went

over sideways at the blow, cursing in surprise as he hit the dirty

floor. I scrambled to my feet and pulled the wad of cloth out of my

mouth, intending to go over him before he could recover, but the man

was no lily with a glass jaw. He pulled himself to his feet almost as

fast as I had done, blocking me in with his body again, wiping his

mouth with the back of his hand.

"So, you would strike at me when my attention was elsewhere, eh, slut?"

he snarled, well beyond finding the situation as amusing as he had.

"Let us see what you may do with my eyes full upon you - and my hands,

as well!"

He came for me then with those hands outstretched, ready to close the

distance between us in three or four fast steps. Never in my life had I

had trouble making decisions, but right then I didn't know what the

hell to do! If I stopped him - which I could do very easily - there

would be no accusations of hitting him when he wasn't looking. He'd

know a better fighter had settled his hash, and on that planet fifteenyear-

old girls just didn't do that to trained mercenaries. I had enough

control back from Bellna to just stand there and let him do whatever he

pleased, but playing patsy was almost guaranteed to do more than

protect my role. As mad as he was it would also probably get me good

and knocked around, possibly to the point of broken bones. I know I'm

better than most, but instant healing isn't among my store of talents.

Even a bad sprain would likely mean the game for me with Clero's men,

but if I put the clown away Clero's men could hear about it and know

something was wrong. Whatever I did would turn out to be the wrong

move, and as he closed with me I still couldn't decide which way to go.

The first slap told me which way I wanted to go, but an open hand isn't

a fist, and I've lived through a lot worse. I stumbled sideways with

the force of the blow, gasping involuntarily at the ache in my teeth

and the pain in my head and shoulder as they hit the wall. The room

swung around for a crazy minute, dark shadows and smudges of light

mixing together in a swirl, and then there was a ripping sound as the

house guard's hands came together on my blouse then pulled violently

apart. The spinning of the room stopped when a big hand closed hard on

my breast, deliberately hard, making me grunt with the pain. I was

pulled close to the guard's now-sweating body, his pleasure at hurting

me almost thick enough to feel, Bellna's hysterical screaming tearing

at the inside of my head. I fought no harder than Bellna would have to

get myself free, but holding back was getting more and more difficult

to do. The man pulled my head back by the hair and forced his lips onto

mine, smothering the scream he expected when his squeezing fingers

closed on the nipple of the breast he held. The fear raced through me,

as did my rage, exploding then coalescing, when -

"Get of a scrofulous muck slave!" came a snarl, and the guard was

pulled away from me so suddenly that I dropped to the slave rags on the

floor. It was Fallan who had pulled the slob off me, and I sat and

panted in an effort to reestablish control while the big mercenary did

what I'd almost been unable to keep from doing. He'd pulled the guard around to face him, blocked a wild roundhouse aimed at his head, then

threw one of his own into the guard's middle. The guard grunted at the

strength of the blow, doubled over, then went to one knee with his arms

wrapped around himself. I expected Fallan to finish him off, but he

turned to me instead, which was a mistake. Fallan took no more than a

single step before the guard came up with one that started at the

floor, trying to unman his opponent with the blow. It would have done a

lot of damage if it had landed, but he didn't know how fast Fallan

could move when he wanted to. Fallan jumped back as the house guard

brought himself up from the floor with the missed foul, but the

mercenary captain had had to move too fast to keep his guard up. The

other man was able to shoot a fast, hard left right into his middle,

harder than the one he'd taken.

The fact that I was starting to get to my feet showed me that I'd

underestimated Fallan as badly as the house guard had. We both expected

to see him fold from the punch he'd taken, but it didn't happen. He

grunted to show that the try wasn't everyone's imagination, then came

back with one of those measured throws from two feet behind him, right

into the house guard's face. The solid, meaty "thwak" sent the house

guard straight back and down, to land unconscious even as his hand was

starting to reach for his sword. I had time to stare down for a brief

moment at the motionless form at my feet and wonder why he hadn't drawn

his sword to begin with, and then Fallan was gently turning me to face

him.

"How badly are you hurt?" he asked at once, carefully brushing my hair

back so that he could look at my face. "How many times were you

struck?"

I tried to answer him, to tell him that I wasn't hurt, but the Bellna

presence had been through too much as well as having just been saved by

her idol. I began shuddering with reaction as if I were the one feeling

it, and Fallan quickly wrapped his arms around me and held me to him.

It was a strange sensation, being held by him like that, feeling

Bellna's delirious joy overlapping her narrow-escape hysterics and

realizing that he'd saved me as well as her. Truthfully he'd saved me

twice, once from the possibility of being badly hurt by the house

guard, and once from defending myself against the attack and thereby

blowing my role. Bellna was terribly aware of his broad chest against

my cheek, his powerful arms holding me gently, and when I raised my

head and looked up into his face, I could feel how desperately she

wanted him to kiss me. I felt exactly the same, couldn't help but feel

exactly the same, but at the same time I didn't want his kiss. None of

that assignment was over with, not really, and I couldn't afford to

want to kiss him. As if he were reading the thoughts of the Bellna

mind, Fallan's head began to lower to mine, to take a small part of the

victory winnings he'd earned, and that was when I pushed out of his

arms.

"I am not hurt badly at all, Captain," I said with a good deal of

tremor left in my voice. "You have my thanks, and will surely have the

thanks of my father and my husband-to-be. It would not be presumptuous

of you to also expect a reward."

Considering the way he was looking at me, I couldn't help stumbling

over the word "reward," and that seemed to amuse him. Laughter touched

his eyes very briefly, wiping away the sharpness of desire, and then he

took a step backward to give me an up and down.

"I have your permission to expect a reward?" he asked, folding his arms

as he stared at me. "I consider that extremely kind of you, wench, yet

would know what you believe you may expect." "I?" I echoed, wondering what he was talking about. "What might there

be which I would expect?"

"A good deal," he answered, the amusement gone from him. "Were you not

told to remain near to me, so that you might be properly protected?

Were you not told what would befall you if you were to disobey? Had you

not taken yourself off, this would not have happened, nor the

possibility of worse, had I not noticed your absence. Are you prepared

for the reckoning?"

"Should you wish to see the matter in that light, Captain, there is

surely another more deserving of a reckoning with than I." I came back

stiffly, finally remembering to make a stab at pulling the tatters of

my blouse back together the way Bellna would have. "When I walked about

in the kitchens, I made certain that your attention was with me; had I

thought it would wander, as though I were of no consequence, I would

certainly not have allowed my curiosity to bring me in here. It seems,

then, that my lack of protection is the fault of another rather than

mine."

He stared at me in silence for a minute, the flickering lamplight

showing nothing in the way of an expression on his face. Because of

that, it was hard to tell what he thought of my counterattack,

especially since it was pure hogwash. I didn't know if he'd realized

yet that I was trying to slip the leash, but if he hadn't, I certainly

wasn't about to tell him.

"So once again is it circumstance rather than yourself who may be given

the blame," Fallan said at last, a slight nod accompanying the

observation. "'I would venture to assume that my reward is soon to be

turned to a reprimand, therefore shall I dismiss all thoughts of reward

and inform you that no longer will circumstances be held at fault. You,

wench, will reap the consequences of your actions, and that as quickly

as we have reached our night's lodgings. Wrap your shawl about yourself

so that we may depart."

"I shall reap nothing of the sort," I huffed, reaching for the shawl

I'd forgotten all about. "Had I remained in my proper position, such an

outrageous attack would not have occurred. Need I remind you, Captain,

at whose insistence I did not remain in my proper place?"

"All points of the disagreement will be clarified when we have reached

our night's lodgings," Fallan said, dismissing my arguments by refusing

to discuss them. The hard decision in his voice was turning Bellna

wide-eyed again, but I refused to believe the man would cut his own

throat by beating me. He might decide to lecture me for an hour, but

lectures were easy to turn off, especially when you had experience at

it, the way I did. It might not be a bad idea to pretend to be

browbeaten at the end of the lecture, which could take Fallan's eyes

off me long enough for me to do a fast fade. Even though Clero's men

weren't in sight yet, I knew I was running out of time. If I didn't

separate myself from Fallan soon, the entire question would become

academic.

Fallan took my arm in one of his now familiar firm grips, and began

hustling me out of the storeroom. He seemed to have overlooked the fact

that I didn't yet have the shawl tied around me, and his hand on my arm

wasn't helping matters any. The closer we got to the door Out of the

storeroom, the more heat I could feel in my cheeks from Bellna's

wailing embarrassment, and the more frantically my hands fought to tie

the green wool-like material around me. Back off and let me do it! I

ordered the presence in my mind, silently cursing her too-deep sense of

modesty and lack of control, but I could feel I wasn't getting through.

My breasts were bouncing with the pace Fallan was forcing on me, and the feel of the rough shawl against my skin was adding to Bellna's

agitation. She was about to be dragged naked in front of peasants, and

the humiliation was killing her.

Fallan reached the end of the aisle and turned without even slowing

down, taking me with him, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I was

tripping over every third thing sticking out of the stacked items to

the left of the aisle. His hand on my arm kept me from going down, but

my own efforts to stay on my feet and avoid more bruised shins, toes

and feet bottoms were destroying Bellna's fumblings with the shawl. We

were back in the kitchen before Bellna-I realized we were being

punished after all, and by then it was too late. Every male eye in the

room was on me, staring hard as I frantically closed the shawl and held

it in place, their eyes taking in the inner burn of embarrassment I was

helpless to stop. Fallan finally let go of my arm to look at my face

again in the better light, and one of his men came up to him.

"Was the wench harmed, Lieutenant?" the man asked as Fallan put his

hand on my face under the chin to keep me from squirming away from him.

"What of the one who followed her?"

"The one who followed her is now asleep," Fallan replied, frowning only

slightly at the spot where the house guard's slap had caught me. "She

will not be much bruised, a fact he may thank as the reason for his

continuing to live. I also choose to ignore his having reached for his

weapon."

"In opposition to the codes?" the other man asked, sounding shocked,

echoing the sounds of shock from the other mercenaries in the room,

including the other house guard. "When not engaged to fight for

opposing sides, we are forbidden to draw weapons against one another!"

"Perhaps he was taken by forgetfulness," Fallan suggested, a dismissal

in the tone he used, finally letting my face go. "Go and inform the

captain that we shall await the Princess in her carriage, so that we

may depart as soon as she has ended her meal."

"As you say, Ca- Lieutenant," the man responded, giving me a last

glance before turning and heading out of the kitchen. I was still

holding the shawl, knowing damned well Bellna would have a fit if I

tried tying it in front of all those people. Once it was closed it

would cover me more completely, but the process of tying would just

about strip me again. Fallan put a hand in my back and pushed me toward

one of the two doors leading directly outside, and the rest of our

party hurried to join us.

The coach stood waiting for us in the afternoon sunshine, the harnessed

vair looking peaceful and satisfied. Fallan made me stand and wait

while the other girls climbed in, then put his head in the door after

I'd reclaimed my seat on the far side of the coach.

"Should I feel you sufficiently remorseful for your unthinking

willfulness, girl, I will obtain a new bodice for you," he told me,

letting his glance slide over the shawl. "Until that time, however, you

will cover yourself as best you may with that which you have. When the

new bodice is brought, I will also expect an apology for your past

behavior."

Don't hold your breath unless you look good in blue, I commented to

myself as he closed the door and walked away. I didn't need his

generosity, and especially wouldn't need it when I managed to take off

in my own direction. The man may have helped me out of a tight spot,

but he was still a royal pain in the backside.

"Should the Captain see such an expression upon your face, he will

punish you to an even greater extent than he now intends," a whispered

voice came, and I looked up to see the brown-haired girl who had told me how unhappy Fallan was with me that morning. "Should you give him

the apology he wishes, he will surely be more lenient with you."

The other two nodded their agreement to the sentiment, all three of

them looking extremely uncomfortable, and I didn't have to wonder why.

In my place they would have been punished, and undoubtedly knew what it

was like.

"There will be neither apology nor punishment," I assured them, taking

the opportunity to quickly tie the shawl before Bellna could squawk.

"Though the beast has forced me to dress as a peasant, never would he

dare to treat me as one to so great an extent. I will arrive at my

destination as I was at my departing, totally untouched by the beast

Fallan."

"Perhaps, Princess, you are correct," said one of the others, the

oldest of the three, her expression serious. "Perhaps your true station

will indeed keep you safe from the Captain's displeasure. It will be

well to hope that this shall be so, for if it is not, there are none to

protect you from him. This, above all other things, must be

remembered."

They broke off the conversation then out of respect for the "princess,"

who had finished her meal and was being escorted back to the coach.

Considering it just as well, I let it drop, too, working to keep the

pity off my face. Those girls really did have no one to protect them

from the men around them, and they were trying to make a sheltered

young girl aware of the real world, to keep her safer than her

ignorance was likely to keep her. It didn't matter that I didn't need

anyone to protect me; they didn't know that, and they were trying to

help. I damned Fallan for risking their lives so casually, then slumped

back and waited for the coach to get moving again.

The only thing more boring than a slow, primitive trip is a monologue

by a small town bumpkin on the wonders of big city life, and once we

were on the road again we had both. The redhead chattered away about

the fantastic meal and service she'd been given, her previous silence

disappearing behind the flood of words like shadows in a rainstorm. The

three girls listened with a good deal of interest, but I sent my

attention out the window and turned my hearing off, spending my time

praying for the attack that should have already come. The redhead

hadn't noticed that her blouse was hanging on me in tatters, so taken

was she with her new life. She seemed to have forgotten that her life

both new and old could disappear at any time, but I hadn't. I had

decided that I had to force Fallan to let me play princess again, but

the one thing I couldn't decide on was how.

The afternoon disappeared behind one discarded plan after another, and

nightfall found me empty of ideas and in a really lousy mood. The woods

were dark blobs on either side of the road, a breeze moved in against

the warmth of the day, and I was beginning to think about being hungry.

I was just wondering how far ahead the next inn was when the coach

turned off the road into the trees, making me Sit up with abrupt

suspicion. Both of the previous inns we had stopped at had been built

right at the side of the road, and there seemed to be no reason for the

unannounced side trip.

"A pity we left the last inn too late to reach the next at a

comfortable time," the redhead observed, looking casually out of the

window on her side of the coach. "We now must take lodging in a

woodsman's house, a location far inferior to an inn, yet the Captain

feels it best that we travel as short a distance as possible in the

dark."

"A woodsman's house," mused the girl who was oldest, staring at me through the darkness. "A place with a house, a stable and perhaps a

woodshed; My father's house had no more than a small woodshed, yet that

was where my sisters and brothers and I were taken, to be punished. The

polished switch stung more greatly there than any other place, and

this, I think, is true of all woodsheds."

Again there was agreement from the other girls, echoed even by the

redhead. The oldest girl was trying to tell me to watch my step, but

her estimation of my biggest problem didn't come anywhere near my own

estimation. I had been looking forward to the next inn to see if I

couldn't pull some swindle even with Fallan there, but we weren't going

to be at an inn. Woodsmen's houses were located all over Narella,

funded by the Princes at the orders of the King. Too many of the people

of Narella couldn't afford to stop at an inn, so when they traveled

they were forced to camp out, making themselves targets for slavers and

outlaws. The woodsmen, employed by the Princes to control overpoaching

in their territories, enlarged their houses and larders, then made

travelers welcome. If the travelers were poor they ate and slept for

free, but if they weren't they were expected to pay for what they

consumed. It was a system that worked well in Narella, but it wasn't

likely to work well for me. An innkeeper could be expected to know the

difference between a princess and a peasant, but how many nobles did a

woodsman get to see? If it came down to a choice between believing me

or Fallan, did I stand even the slightest chance? I pulled the shawl

more about me and growled under my breath, knowing damned well that I

didn't stand the chance of a feather in a windstorm. The woodsman would

back Fallan, and I'd be left with the pleasant job of explaining what I

was up to without admitting anything damaging. And I didn't even have

the option of walking away any longer! Once we stopped, slipping off

into the darkened woods would be child's play, but what good would it

do? I wasn't likely to run into Clero's men that way, and even if I did

they wouldn't know who I was. They would still go after the redhead,

take her out, then continue merrily on their way. For the hundredth

time I didn't know what to do, and so just brooded.

It took longer than I expected to get to the woodsman's house, and the

lighted windows hanging in the blackness were a warming, welcoming

sight despite everything. My feet were cold and my hands were cold, and

the damp of the forest night was even beginning to work its way under

the cheap green shawl. The only one of us who was comfortably warm was

the redhead; it was probably the first time all day she hadn't been

sweltering. The coach pulled up and stopped in front of the wide, twostoried

house, the mercenaries dismounted, and "Captain" Ralnor came to

hand the "princess" out. With that done the other girls climbed out and

I followed, all of us finding Fallan waiting to escort us inside. At

that point it didn't matter much one way or the other, so I did as the

others did and went along quietly.

The inside of the woodsman's large house was warm, but it was also the

scene of throttled-down bedlam. Kids ran in all directions for goblets

and pitchers of wine, for chairs with cushions, for hastily made

snacks. Three older women stood at the big fireplace where they were

cooking, but their eyes were shining when they glanced over their

shoulders at the redhead. The grand announcement had obviously already

been made, and I was glad I'd missed it. Even the woodsman himself, a

shortish, stocky man with brown hair and eyes and rough, home-made

clothes, seemed impressed, a depressing observation to my mood of the

moment. Fallan's men filed into the room behind us, closed the door,

then stood around with arms folded, watching the excitement and eyeing

the food and drink. Curious about how many men had been left outside I turned toward one of the front windows, but Fallan caught my arm before

I was able to take the first step, and took me with him over to the

woodsman.

"A good evening to you, Lieutenant," the man greeted Fallan, raising

his goblet to him. "Will you join us in a cup of my best ale?"

"With pleasure," Fallan answered, responding to the woodsman's gesture

with a friendly nod. "First, however, I must attend to a matter too

long unseen to. I have a girl to be punished, and would ask the use of

your stables."

"Why, certainly, Lieutenant," the woodsman agreed with a chuckle while

Ralnor, the redhead - and I - stared at Fallan in disbelief. "My stable

is yours, for however long you require its use. You will find it

through there."

The woodsman nodded toward a bolt-adorned door in the far wall to the

right of the fireplace, and Fallan nodded again.

"My thanks, Woodsman," he said, tightening his grip on my arm. "This

matter will not take long, and then we may drink to one another's

fortune."

The woodsman returned Fallan's nod as the big mercenary pulled me away

from him, heading us both toward the door that had been pointed out. I

struggled against Fallan's hold in the sort of lame way that had long

since begun to be very frustrating, and got exactly as far as you would

expect.

"You may not do this to me!" I hissed at Fallan, seriously wondering if

I had the patience left to just stand there and let him do as he

pleased. "I refuse to accept this! I will not accept it!"

"You will accept all I give and more," Fallan muttered back, not even

looking at me. "The time has come for a true understanding between us,

one too long in the coming. I cannot keep you safe without your

complete cooperation, and this I will have when we return from the

stables. I am now able to see that this should have been done much the

sooner, as Grigon recommended."

Grigon? What the hell did Grigon have to do with this? I glanced at

Fallan's determined profile as I asked the question silently,

immediately deciding that I'd ask it again aloud as soon as Fallan and

I were alone. I couldn't see Grigon telling Fallan to beat me, even if

the Absari agent hadn't been all that pleased with my obedience

quotient. It didn't make any sense, not any of it, but we were only

three steps away from the door that would open on some answers and I

could afford to wait that long. Fallan reached the door, pulled it open

to reveal a large, dimly lit stable that was closed tight from the

inside, and then - "Attack!" shouted one of the mercenaries near a

front window, peering out at the darkness and what it held. We could

all hear the sound of swords clashing now, the thud of arrows into the

house, the cursing of men hard-pressed. Clero's force had finally made

it, and I couldn't have been happier. If I let them see me, I might be

able to lure them into the woods after me-and then take care of them

one or two at a time. They were committed to me now, and that was what

we'd been trying to accomplish. Bellna and her King's escort would find

nothing they couldn't handle in their way, and I was all through with

having to stand around being helpless. I took a half step back toward

the front door, forgetting all about Fallan which turned out to be a

mistake.

"That direction is not for you," he growled, pulling me off balance by

the hold he had on my arm and pushing hard enough to send me stumbling

through the doorway. "That is the place for you, wench, and as you

value your life you will remain there." I opened my mouth to tell him what to do with himself, but the bastard

slammed the door in my face before I had a single word out. Raving

furious was a good description of what I felt then, and I moved fast to

the door to shove on it - only to find that the bolt had been thrown.

"Cross-eyed, impotent son of a beslimed street stroller!" I snarled,

pounding on the unmoving door. "Gelded crawler in and eater of offal!

Open this door, else I shall. . ."

I was so wild I was ready to break the door, which turned out to be my

second mistake in as many minutes. Getting mad in a dangerous situation

is as stupid and potentially fatal as walking blindfolded through

racing ground traffic. All the shouting I was doing covered whatever

noise they made coming up behind me, and my ranting was abruptly cut

off by the presence of a wet cloth pressed fast to my nose and mouth. I

suddenly knew they'd been hiding in the stable, waiting for the attack

to start, waiting to do whatever they planned on doing. I tried to stop

my breathing as I brought an elbow back hard into the ribs of whoever

was holding that cloth, but before the blow landed his free arm had

already brought a fist back into my middle with a goodly amount of

force, causing me to gasp in two complete lungfuls of the flat,

strangling vapors coming out of the cloth. The cloth-holder did some

gasping himself as he let me go, but my head was already spinning too

fast for me to take advantage of the freedom. I tried to move away from

the door and farther into the stable, to find some place to hole up

until my head cleared, but it was simply no use. Instead of walking I

slipped down to the floor, stretched out on my left side and well along

in floating away.

"The slut!" said a choked voice from somewhere above me, pain and anger

clear in the words. "I will have the skin off her in strips for daring

to strike me!"

"The Prince means to do other with her than have her life," came

another voice, a somehow familiar one with a chuckle in it. "She will

regret having struck at the both of us, more so than if we were to take

vengeance ourselves. Her life might have been taken easily enough at

the inn."

"Aye, and a good thing it was that the Prince had the foresight to

place you at that inn," said the first voice, grimly pleased. "Had you

not been there, we might well have taken the wrong wench."

"This one would be worth the taking in any event," the second answered,

and a booted foot came to push me flat on my back. The foot belonged to

the house guard from the last inn, and through billowing clouds of

dizziness I could see him grinning down at me. "Had she been unspoken

for, I would have claimed her, to repay some part of the humiliation I

was forced to accept in uncovering her true identity. Did they think me

so foolish as to be unable to recognize Fallan, a long-time Captain of

his Company? Was I to believe that this same Fallan would be concerned

over the brief use of a mere serving wench? They are the fools, not I."

"And double the fools for having sent her out here, alone, at the first

outward sign of our attack," agreed the first man. "It was clear they

would be unable to reach the next inn at a reasonable time and would

therefore stop here, yet I doubted when you insisted she would be sent

into our hands in such a manner as this. Your words have now been

proven correct, and we are now able to take her to those who wait."

"As the Prince also anxiously awaits her preparation, we shall do that

very thing," the ex-house guard said with a grin, slowly going down to

one knee. "It will, however, be considerably more difficult for her to

awaken to her predicament; therefore-"

His words broke off as his arm moved through the clouds with the cloth he'd retrieved, and there was no avoiding it. Two more breaths and I

was gone fishing.

Chapter 5

I awoke to the awareness of a faint headache behind my eyes, a dulled

pulse that was already beginning to fade away even as I became aware of

it. I took a deep breath and my senses flowed out to a greater distance

from my body, no longer wrapped up under a blanket of unconsciousness.

I could hear the sounds of movement and life a short distance away,

people going about their business. Closer up there was a clean, faintly

perfumed smell, feminine without a doubt and some-how dainty and

delicate. Whatever I lay on was hard and not very comfortable, rough

and scratchy to my fingertips, somehow adding to the dryness in my

mouth. My eyes blinked open to get a look at it and-Damn! I sat up so

fast that my stomach twisted with nausea, and thick dizziness swirled

my eyesight for a minute. I ignored it all and brought my right wrist

up to get a closer look at the shackle closed around it, all at once

remembering what had happened just before I'd gone beddy-bye. Fallan

and I had both been suckered, but he was still back in the woodsman's

house, at worst feeling foolish, while I had more immediate problems.

Two of them were the two-inch wide metal cuffs closed around my wrists,

another the foot-and-a-half length of chain holding those cuffs

together, the fourth, fifth and sixth the same cuff and chain setup on

my ankles. I twisted the right wrist cuff around to get a better view

of the lock that kept it closed, and immediately felt a little better.

The lock was simple and obvious, one I could have opened in no time as

soon as I found a pick, so I wasn't quite as securely chained up as

those who had put me there wanted me to be. Even so, I didn't like the

looks of the rig I had been closed into, a sentiment shakily echoed by

the Bellna presence, who peeked nervously out from her favorite corner.

The torn blouse, green shawl and print skirt I had been wearing were

all gone, replaced in part by a very short, poncho-like piece of sheer

white material. The thing went over my head to hang down front and

back, was completely open at the sides, and was slit wide enough and

deeply enough in front to reach my waist and then some. Holding it

tight to my body was a slender belt of chain, delicate-looking but

locked on as securely as the wrist cuffs, two smallish rings and a

short metal tongue attached to the front. The chain linking my wrists

ran through the two rings, but the purpose of the slim metal tongue was

a mystery, one I had no real interest in poking at. What I did want to

poke at was a way out, but the place I sat in didn't offer many

options.

The room was clearly part of a tent, but floored as it was and as well

staked down, even an outer wall would have probably been useless. I

heard a tinkle of chain and looked at the girl who had turned in her

sleep, a young girl, one of two others who were in the tent room with

me. Four lamps, one on each wall, let me see around the room, but there

wasn't much to see; tan tent walls, a hard, scratchy mat of a floor, a

series of carved wooden chests along the walls, three young, attractive

females chained and half-dressed in translucent white. Not a hell of a

lot to work with, and nothing at all to set the mind at ease. I hadn't

been brought wherever it was for my benefit, and I couldn't afford to

forget that "the Prince" was "anxiously awaiting" my "preparation." If

it wasn't Clero they'd been talking about I'd demote myself to cadet

status, but nothing that drastic would be necessary. Clero was waiting

for me, all right, and the best thing I could do would be to disappoint him.

I struggled to my feet with a light tinkling of chain which was

answered by the movement of the second girl, stirring slightly as the

first girl had. The first one was dark-haired and slender, the second

chestnut-haired and smaller, neither one looking older than Bellna's

fifteen, the brunette possibly younger. Both girls moved a second time,

fitfully, as though they were beginning to come out of the same

unconsciousness that had held me, showing me it was more than time to

move on. Or mince on. The chain stretched between my ankles was too

short to allow a decent stride, which meant I had to flounce along

almost on my toes. That, together with the length of the skimpy poncho

a quarter of an inch less and it would no longer be able to be called a

"covering" just have made me a sight to behold, but looking foolish

wasn't my major concern. With my ankles chained, the only kicks I'd be

able to execute would be two-footed blasts, and I'd never be able to

land upright after one of them. If I ran into anyone standing in my

way, I'd have to sneak up on him and use the wrist chain as a strangle

cord. One-handed. I felt like cursing but sighed instead, knowing it

could have been a hell of a lot worse. The chains I wore could have

been bolted to a wall, or there could have been watchdogs posted right

inside the room. Knowing how lucky I was I turned away from the two

sleeping girls toward the tan hanging covering the room entrance - just

as it was pushed aside by the two men coming in.

The two men were far from small, both dark-haired and dark-eyed,

dressed in black pants and boots and golden yellow shirts, typical

heavies and looking the part.. Bellna squeaked inside my head and

scooted back into her corner, leaving me all alone in the middle of the

floor, caught in the act, so to speak. It wasn't the first time I'd

been caught like that, but Bellna's fluster and my own idiot reflexes

almost did me in. Automatically I started to go into standard attackdefense

position, which was not meant to be taken when ankle-chained.

Rather than looking dangerous and ready I managed to trip myself, which

ended me up on the hard floor covering belly down, looking up at two

faintly amused men.

"Where did you think to go, slave?" the one on the left asked, letting

his eyes move over me. "It was not expected that you would be awake as

yet."

"For what reason would I not be awake?" I countered, playing dumb as I

usually did. Special Agents were harder than normal to put out, and had

a faster snapback when wake-up time came. Survival is made up of edges

like that, but it hadn't been too helpful that time. "And I am not a

slave! I am free, and therefore should not be chained in such a manner!

I must be released immediately!"

I knew I was pushing it by making inane demands, but it was the sort of

thing an innocent like Bellna would have done, and these people should

have had some idea as to who I was supposed to be. I held my mental

breath as the two men stared down at me, and then the one who had

spoken a minute earlier laughed.

"It has never failed to amuse me to see wenches in chains declare

themselves free," he said, drawing another smile from the man beside

him. "Best you prepare yourself, wench, for you will soon learn better.

Also will you learn to respond quickly and completely to questions put

to you. Those who brought you here spoke of having given you twice the

vapors usually given a captured vessel, and yet are you awake before

those others. For what reason are you awake, and where did you think to

go?"

"I am awake from having awakened, and thought to take myself from this tasteless room! " I snapped, cursing his persistence as I began to get

to my feet. I didn't want him to think there was anything special about

me, but I wasn't getting much of what I wanted just then. He moved

forward a fast two steps to bend and get a fistful of my hair, then

knocked my head into the hard scratchy floor.

"A slave is not permitted to take such a tone with anyone at all, not

to speak of a free man, he said in a level voice after I had cried out

at the double pain of the knock and the grip on my hair. "You will

remain on the floor, face down, until you have my permission to rise.

And I will recall this matter of early awakening, and will speak to our

records keeper of it. It is a thing your future master will need to

know."

He waited a few seconds to see if I would have anything else to say,

but with the damage already done, the effort wasn't worth it. Bellna

was sending waves of shivering disbelief through me, making my body

tremble with her fear, and I let it happen to cover the almost-snarl I

felt in my own right. Big, brave men who abused chained women were a

special love of mine, and all I wanted to do was get my hands on the

clown with or without being chained. But I wasn't likely to get my

hands on him, and even if I did it wasn't likely to do much good with

the second man there. Survival right then meant being a helpless,

frightened little girl, and that's what I'd have to be. We'd all

thought that Clero wanted Bellna's life, but we'd been wrong; if I'd

known he wanted her as a slave instead, I'd never have gotten involved.

I'm not what would be considered good slave material, not even under

the best of circumstances. Right then, with the main attack drawn away

from its legitimate target, all I wanted was out of there.

Once my hair was released, my new friend and his companion moved past

me, and moments later I heard groaning protests in female voices,

telling me that my two roommates were being roused. I continued to lie

face down where I'd been left, the chains and rings digging into me, my

nose on the scratchy surface of the flooring. The part of my mind that

was me rumbled uselessly with dark thoughts, and the part that was

Bellna sniffled and blubbered in fright. It was a good opportunity to

see if I could reach the Bellna presence to calm her, but after ten

minutes of trying I gave it up. Nothing seemed to reach the Bellna

presence but spiteful intentions, which could not be considered

communication of the reliable sort. If I started out with the idea of

doing some damage, I got either protest or silence, putting me in the

driver's seat; if I let things ride to see how they would go, Bellna's

feelings crowded mine aside. It looked as though I was too well

controlled and Bellna not controlled enough, and that would be an-other

problem to face in those chains. As if there weren't enough without

that.

The two newly awakened girls went through exclamations of disbelief and

protest much in the same way that I had, but only one of them tried to

insist. She was laughed at and roughed up in a small way the same as I

had been, and then there was movement at the door flap to interrupt any

further messing around. Another heavy in black pants and golden yellow

shirt entered, but he just stood there holding the flap. The next man

in was of slighter build, wearing a pale yellow shirt, moving with a

polished grace, light brown hair and gray eyes adding to his air of

superior breeding. Behind him came a pretty blond female slave, wearing

the same sort of outfit and wrist chains that the rest of us wore,

carrying a small package wrapped in cloth. The girl hurried through the

opening and moved quickly to one side, keeping as much distance as

possible between herself and the male slave who entered slowly behind her. The man was big by almost any standard you care to use, and his

chains were a lot heavier and wider than the ones used on females. He

was followed by two whip carrying, armed men in dark gold, and he'd

been given nothing but a faded green loin wrap to wear, a green that

matched the color of the very brief cloth poncho his female counterpart

was wearing. The other two girls and I were wearing white, but this

girl and the man both wore faded green. The concept of color-coding is

a lot older and more universal than most people know, but before I

could think about what the differences might be, the newcomer in the

light yellow shirt got the show on the road.

"I see they are all awake and aware," he said to the two men who had

entered earlier. "A prompt beginning is ever a good sign. Arrange them

now, and prepare to take your own places."

The man in pale yellow walked to a wooden chest, pulled out a thick,

wool-like mat and several yellow pillows, then sat down on the mat and

made himself comfortable against the pillows. By the time he was ready,

the other two girls and I had been put into a row halfway across the

room from the man, all of us on our feet and facing the man, all of us

tinged with the flush of embarrassment. Being displayed like that was

as horrible for Bellna as it was for the other two girls, but the grin

the man wore showed he was enjoying the sight.

"You are each of you quite lovely, slaves," he said, examining us one

at a time in frank approval. "Your future masters will be pleased, most

especially after you have completed your training. You will learn

quickly and obey completely, else will you be punished as you have

never before experienced."

"You cannot treat me so!" blurted the girl on the extreme left, her

voice quivering with emotion. The third girl stood between us, smaller

than either of us, frightened from the roots of her hair to the tips of

her toes. "When my father has discovered where I have been taken, he

will bring his guard and destroy this evil place!"

"There will be neither discovery nor destruction, slave," the man

answered without anger, locking eyes with the pretty brunette. "Best

you know that it was your father himself who allowed your capture, to

provide a gift for his good friend who desires you in slavery. Your

second eldest brother is now pledged in marriage to the daughter of

this friend, an arrangement which will bring considerable benefits to

your father. Your enslavement was but a small part of the bride price."

The man's tone was so matter-of-fact that the girl just stared at him

open-mouthed, knowing the truth when she heard it. Even if she managed

to escape the chains she wore, she no longer had a home to return to.

The man in yellow smiled faintly when he saw the point hit home, then

he turned his eyes to the next girl in line.

"You, slave, were foolish enough to be rude to a man of considerable

position," he told her, watching as her trembling increased. "The

haughtiness of your family place is to be made into slave obedience and

a desire to please, and then you will be his. Your family now believes

you to be dead, therefore may you also consider the matter of search

and discovery closed."

The small girl just stood there shaking, not even bowing her chestnuthaired

head, probably due to being deeply in shock or as forced to

believe the bitter truth as the first girl. The man in yellow let his

eyes move over her small but lush curves another minute, and then it

was my turn.

"As for the last of our newest slaves, the matter is somewhat

different," he said, smiling faintly as he met my eyes. Your father

dared to attempt elevating you to a position which was not meant to be yours, therefore must another position be given you. In your instance

discovery is, to a small extent, possible, and yet for you discovery

would undoubtedly mean ultimate destruction. One who was enslaved, even

for a brief time, would be totally unacceptable for the marriage you

were pledged to, and the insult of your presence might well bring about

war between your father and the father of your intended husband. Your

father, surely as well aware of the point as any, would either have

your life taken as quickly as you were found, else would you be sent to

a far-distant retreat, there to live out your life in unrelieved

solitude. As a slave, you will be spared both of those consequences."

The shock Bellna was feeling brought a shudder to me, silencing me as

effectively as the other two girls had been silenced. Everything the

man in yellow had said to the girl he thought of as the Princess Bellna

was true, and the cruelty of that truth was worse than a flogging. I

felt abandoned and alone and helpless and betrayed and completely

destroyed, all of it at once and all of it overwhelming. "I" was lost

beneath the onslaught, and I sank to a sitting position on the floor,

only peripherally aware of the fact that the other two girls had done

the same thing before me.

"And now it is time to truly begin," the man in yellow announced

briskly, as though he were getting more than dull, uncomprehending

attention from his three victims. "Two of you are as yet virginally

untouched, the third used so little that there is scarcely a

difference. We will begin by teaching you the truth concerning your

bodies, yet first must another matter be seen to."

He gestured in the direction of the slave female he had brought with

him, and she immediately hurried with the package she carried to the

two men in golden yellow shirts, who had been standing behind the line

formed by the other two girls and myself. The third man in golden

yellow, the one who had held the flap open for the man in light yellow,

followed the slave to join the other two behind us, but Bellna's upset

left me nothing in the way of curiosity as to what they were doing. I

sat in an envelope of misery, one palm against the scatchy mat to lean

on, both legs and their ankle chain to the other side, beyond even the

thought of trying to escape. Because of that, I found myself crying out

in pained surprise with the other two girls when a big hand tangled in

my hair and forced me to my knees.

"Slaves are not permitted a sitting position save they be ordered to it

by their master," the man in light yellow said mildly, looking from one

to the other of us. "You will now be fitted with a device to remind you

of this stricture, and also to remind you of the matter of punishment.

You may proceed."

The last was for the men around us, and proceed they did. One of the

armed, whip-carrying men circled the male slave, crossed to the girl on

the far left, then took a fistful of her hair when the man behind her

released his grip. The whip man waited while the other took the girl's

wrist chain, pulled it out between the two rings, wrapped it several

times around the two rings, then used the metal tongue on her chain

belt to hold the whole arrangement in place. The girl's wrists were

then tight to her waist, having no motion-room at all, and the girl was

even more frightened than she had been. She struggled in an attempt to

free her wrists, getting nowhere of course, and then the whip man bent

her low to the floor mat, her forehead not far from her knees. She was

ready to be done, and it didn't take long.

The man from behind her had thrust something into his belt while he was

securing her wrist chain, and once he was through and behind her again

he pulled it out. The something was T shaped and about two and a half or three inches long, of polished wood, as thick around as my little

finger, and tapering slightly toward the uncrossed end. The cross-bar

itself was less than an inch in length, and had a thin strip of leather

runnin~g through a small hole in the center of the bar, where it met

the body of the T. The man went down to one knee behind the girl,

pushed the six inches of her poncho skirt out of his way, then brought

the wooden something to her bottom. She screamed at the first touch of

it, a lot more fear than pain in the sound, and again tried to

struggle, but it was still a waste of time. The thing was slowly forced

into her to the cross-bar, and then one end of the leather strip was

tied to a similar thin strip already knotted around her waist under the

cloth poncho. At a nod from the man behind the girl, the arined man

straightened her to kneeling again so that the other end of the leather

strip could be tied snugly in front. The girl was wild with fright and

panting hard just short of hysterics, but she wasn't struggling any

longer. The man in the golden-yellow shirt brushed her tiny skirt back

down, the armed man released her hair, and then the two of them came

toward the second girl and me.

At that point struggling was no more than strength-wasting, but I

couldn't tell the Bellna presence that. Because of her I struggled to

keep my wrists from being secured to my waist, struggled to keep from

being bent forward, and struggled and screamed when that wooden thing

was pushed inside me. It was one of the most uncomfortable things ever

done to me, but Bellna felt shattered by it. I was able to get most of

the way back to control then, but I wasn't entirely sure that I wanted

control. Every one of us had screamed and struggled, and slaves weren't

usually allowed the luxury of emoting as they pleased. The man behind

me was the one who had spoken to me when he and the second had first

arrived, and he smoothed my skirt down once the front leather tie had

been secured, and then looked at me with a faint grin. None of us would

be getting away with anything, that grin said, and Bellna's tremor of

fear sent a shiver through me.

"You will now give me your attention, slaves," the man in the light

yellow shirt said, drawing our eyes to him. The men who had put those

wooden things in us continued to stand right next to us as we knelt on

the floor mat, but we were no longer supposed to pay attention to them.

"The devices placed within you are for the dual purpose of teaching and

punishment, and will be withdrawn when your lessons have been

adequately learned. Should those devices be allowed to slip from your

body before that time, you will be beaten and the device will be

reinserted, to be kept within you for many, many more days. Therefore

are you to be alert, for there will be no exceptions to the additional

punishment."

The man paused to let his threat sink in, and the small girl next to me

whimpered in misery, voicing what all three of us felt. The device we'd

been fitted with was allowed some small degree of movement despite the

leather holding it in place, only we didn't know how far it could go

before it slipped out altogether. Under those circumstances the only

thing we could do was use our legs or heels to push it back in, even

though all we wanted was to be rid of the filthy things. We'd been put

in the position of having to make sure our own punishment continued.

"Now to the matter of your bodies," the man went on, gesturing at the

same time. The pretty blonde slave hurried to him and knelt where he

indicated, showing nothing but absolute obedience and an eagerness to

please. The men tugged her green poncho loose and pulled it off over

her head, then smiled faintly at the gasps of embarrassment from his

captive audience. "As you see, a slave shift is easily removed from a slave, allowing her

master access to her body," he lectured, running his hands lightly over

the girl's body. "The body of a slave is the property of her master,

his to do with as he wishes, just as he wishes. The slave may not deny

him, just as you will not deny the men who own you or any man who

stands as master to you. You are no longer high born and untouchable,

no longer the owners of your own bodies. The sooner you accept this,

the less punishment you will find."

There were gasps again as the man in the yellow shirt began to

deliberately arouse the slave under his hands, making her writhe and

moan where she knelt. Her chains clinked faintly as she moved

involuntarily, her eyes closed and her head went back, her nipples

hardened and her knees spread wide, his hands taking the very soul from

her. In no more than a minute or two she was more than ready to do

anything asked of her, but the man wasn't there to ask.

"Slave arousal is easily achieved by a master," the man said in his

casual way; ignoring the sobs coming from the slave he gave no rest to.

"Are you able to feel the touches on your own body, the warmth

beginning deep in the center of you? Do your breasts tighten with the

desire to be touched as I touch this one? Heed the voices of the

stirrings within you, for you, too, will be required to respond in such

a way."

I could hear the heavier breathing of the girls to my left, knowing

they were beginning to be aroused just as Bellna was. I tried to fight

the feelings but it was impossible, and moving in discomfort did not

more than shift that device around. It was starting to make me feel

strange, somehow, and that was helping to distract me from control.

"Now you must see one of those things designed to give you relief," the

man said, still working the girl as he turned his head to nod at the

two armed men. One of them drew his sword and placed it in the middle

of the male slave's back while the other gave his attention to the

faded green cloth around the man's loins. One short tug, one strong

pull, and the cloth was gone to another, deeper set of grasps. The

slave was hung like a vair stallion, and even I found myself impressed.

"This slave is well equipped to use any female given him, yet he,

himself, is not aroused," the man said, finally taking his hands away

from the girl. "Should this slave wish to be given that which she so

desperately needs, she must give that one whatever pleasure he desires.

Slave, go to the other slave and beg to please him."

The girl whimpered at the command, clearly afraid of the big male

slave, but she was too far gone in need and also even more afraid of

disobeying. She struggled to her feet with difficulty, hurried to the

male slave, put her arms around his body, then moved against him.

"Master, I beg to be allowed to please you," she whispered, kissing at

the hard male body she rubbed against. "Ask me anything, anything! So

long as I am allowed to serve you."

"You may assume that he has commanded you to waken his body," the man

in the light yellow shirt told her. "Accompany him to the mat, and then

obey his command."

The male slave didn't seem to be in a very cooperative mood, but he

couldn't have had access to women in his state of confinement, and the

pretty blonde slave was very eager to please him. He hesitated a long

minute, but finally put himself down on the floor mat. The girl

followed him down, moved to his far side so as not to block our view,

then went to work on him with hands, lips and mouth.

"Oh, look!" gasped the small girl to my left, horror and fascination in

her tone. "He grows larger yet! Never have I seen such a thing!" "Rest assured that it is a thing you will see much of from now on,"

chuckled the man in the light yellow shirt, watching us rather than the

two slaves. "You will come to think of the sight as the most glorious

thing you are able to accomplish, and will strive with all of your

being to accomplish it as often as possible. In no other way will you

find any measure of happiness."

What a great life, I thought as I watched the girl slave work on her

chain brother. Live and work for no other purpose than to be thrown to

your back and raped. The slave propaganda made it sound like the

ultimate aim of the universe, but in order to believe it you had to be

a slave. Or maybe a slave had to believe it to survive, which seemed to

be the name of the game no matter what position you held in life.

Not long after the girl started on the male slave, the man in the

golden-yellow shirt who had been standing next to me walked away for a

minute, then came back with a thick mat and fat pillows like the ones

the man in the light yellow shirt used. The mat and pillows were put

down next to me, to my left, and then the man was next to me, making

himself comfortable. My knees and legs hurt from kneeling, my arms were

beginning to numb up from being chained in one place, and my bottom was

still protesting the invasion, but the man who had done it all was

making himself comfortable. He leaned on one arm facing me, the back of

his head toward the two performing slaves, the look in his eyes too

direct to meet. He wasn't there by accident, I knew, and I wasn't

overly anxious to learn the reason for it.

"I think it would be best if you now learned more of the feelings of a

female slave," the man in light yellow told us, drawing our attention

to him again. "You will then understand the slave's eagerness to

please, and may then imagine the priceless gift she is given."

A hand came to slide along my thigh, and then it moved around to my

buttocks, stroking briefly before patting twice. I gasped and rose up

off my heels to escape the sensations brought about by being patted on

that device, but golden-shirt's hand followed after me and touched me

again. Bellna flared inside my mind and her lack of control with her,

responding to what was being done to me with bewildered desperation. A

burning had begun between my thighs, deep in that place which was my

womanhood, a burning more intense than any I had ever experienced. The

brute beside me touched the device which had been inserted within my

body and caused it to vibrate softly but terribly, and though I

strained away from him, I could not escape the intrusion of his touch.

Farther and farther I strained away, the burning growing higher and

more intense - and then his other hand was at my thighs, his fingers

touching my womanhood!

"To serve!" said the one of higher breeding who sat before us, as my

body was caught in the indescribable sensations of that touch. "You

will live to serve and serve well, you will beg to serve and serve

well, you will fall into a frenzy of need if you are not allowed to

serve! Down to your heels now, and do not rise from them again. Merely

look upon the ecstasy you may be given."

The touch, which had sent flares through my body, was suddenly gone,

leaving the burning and desire unrelieved. With a whimper I lowered

myself to my heels, fearful that disobedience would bring me - I knew

not what. For me there would be no rescue, no return to the life I had

known. I, of higher birth than any of these others, was now no more

than the lowest of slaves, captured and chained and touched as none

before them had dared. Oh, how unfair to do me so, as though I were of

no worth whatsoever! To leave me so terribly aburn! Were I free of

those chains, I would happily take the lives of all of them, for daring to do such things to me! I hated them all, fiercely, and yet - what

would be done to me if I were to disobey?

"See how the slave is urged on to greater effort," said the high-born

one, indicating the manner in which the male slave touched the female

tending him. His hand moved between her thighs as she moaned over his

manhood, the burning in her clear to one who burned as she did. And yet

she was touched while I was not, which brought involuntary movement to

my hips - which in turn brought new awareness of that device and of my

burning need. They were sure to take my use; why had they not yet done

so?

"You may now take the slave who has aroused you," said the high-born

one to the male slave. "Take her fully, yet must you take her slowly.

You may begin."

The hands of the male slave went to the waist of the female, lifted her

across his body, then put her to her back beside him upon the mat. She

lay trembling as he rose up above her, so deeply in need that she

seemed to have no fear of that terrible weapon of his body. Her

breathing quickened as he spread her thighs and approached her more

closely, and clearly could we see her greater agitation when his

manhood merely touched her womanhood.

"Please, master, enter me now!" she begged in a hoarse whisper,

twisting about and attempting to draw him to her. "I must serve you,

else I shall die!"

"Slowly," cautioned the high-born one, speaking to the male slave. "She

has not yet reached a true frenzy. The longer you delay, the greater

will be your pleasure-and hers."

"Should I delay too long, she will lose a good measure of arousal,"

growled the male slave, speaking for the first time. His manhood

touched the woman beneath him more deeply yet, and the woman screamed

and attempted to impale herself.

"Take me now!" she screamed, struggling against the large hands on her

thighs, which held her in place upon the mat. "Now, now, you must take

me now, and quickly!"

"Slowly," repeated the other, and the male slave, with a glance for

those who wore swords and carried whips, obeyed the command of the

high-born one. Slowly, slowly, did his manhood enter her, she screaming

and thrashing about, and when at last he was fully within and began

using her, I thought it likely that I would soon be senseless. My head

whirled dizzily to the throbbing burn of my body, and I yearned

desperately for my wrists to be freed. As though from a distance I

heard the whimpers and moans from those who stood in capture with me,

and knew that they, too, were taken as I.

"Should you wish to be touched, you must beg it," came a soft voice

from beside me, the brute who had touched me earlier speaking so that

only I might hear. "Beg that I give you that which only a master might

give."

I turned my head to look upon him, seeing the amusement in his eyes,

yet also suddenly seized by the knowledge that my torment might be

ended. My body flamed high with the realization that his touch might be

forthcoming, and I could not halt the sudden trembling which took me.

"Touch me," I whispered so that only he might hear such terrible words.

"I beg that you touch me! Please! Quickly!"

"There is scarcely so great a rush, slave child," the brute chuckled,

placing one large hand upon my thigh. "Your knees must be more widely

separated, else I shall be unable to reach you."

The embarrassment of doing such a thing was great, yet what else was I

to do? In dire haste I opened my knees as widely as I was able, and again the brute chuckled.

"You are truly well made for a child of your years," said he, raising

one hand to the cloth which covered my breasts. The cloth upon my left

breast was moved aside with the smallest of efforts, yet he did no more

than gaze upon the breast.

"Please!" I whispered, slowly growing frantic. "I have begged for the

touch, and you must give it to me!"

"You are mistaken," the brute said, laughing softly. "You must beg, yet

I need not heed your begging. The choice of whether or not I shall

touch you is mine alone."

"Oh, no," I whimpered, devastated by his cruelty. "You must touch me,

you must! I beg to be touched, do you hear, I beg to be touched!

Please, I beg it!"

"Perhaps I shall touch you," mused the brute, sending his gaze to my

thighs. "Are you unable to open yourself any farther?"

The slave female screamed in delight at the pummeling being given her

body, and with a shudder I strove to open my thighs even farther. The

device touched my heels in such a position, yet when I attempted to

straighten against the pressure, the brute's hand was quickly upon my

arm.

"You were forbidden to rise from your heels," he said, all amusement

gone. "Do you mean to disobey?"

"No, I will not disobey!" I whispered, frightened at the thought of

what would be done to me. "Please! I will not disobey!''

"Very well," came his gruff agreement, filling me with relief that I

would not be harmed-yet also increasing my misery. The feel of the

device as it touched my heels was fuel to the flames consuming my body,

yet he would not allow me to escape the sensation.

"I must see that the device yet remains within you," he said, putting

his hand behind me. "Do not rise from your heels, else shall you be

punished."

"Please!" I begged as his hand touched me. "Please make the choice that

I be touched! Please, I beg it!"

"Ah, how quickly you have learned," he chuckled, continuing to toy with

the device. "You beg that I choose to ease you, rather than believing

that I am bound to do so. Am I bound to ease you?"

"No!" I wept, beside myself at what he did to me. "You may choose

whether I am to be touched, and I beg that you do!"

"A slave touched is a slave given a great gift," he said, taking his

hand from the device. "The slave may earn such a gift in only one way,

and that is to obey without question and serve eagerly. This is what

you will learn."

No longer was I able to respond to him, for with the last of his words

did he touch me, fully, strongly, and with great knowledge of my need.

I, too, screamed as the female slave did, touched again and again so

deeply that consciousness was soon lost to me.

When I came out of it Bellna was still in a daze, so the turn was mine

again. I lay on my side on the rough mat, aware of all the people

around me, aware of everything Bellna had gone through. For once I had

to admit it was a damned good thing she'd been there to take over, even

though it was my body being put over the hurdles. These slavers were

obviously trying to condition their three victims, and the purposes

they had in mind clearly called for a type of conditioning beyond the

usual fear-of-a-whip sort. Bellna had reacted properly to the

conditioning, whereas I, aware of it, probably wouldn't have done such

a thorough job. I needed to be thought of as nothing out of the ordinary, so they'd turn their backs on me without a second thought. As

soon as that happened I'd be gone, and they could take their

conditioning and use it on themselves.

A couple of minutes later I was slapped "awake," and a minute after

that I was back on my knees, right in the same spot I'd been in

earlier. The other two girls on line were crying, and had obviously

been given the same treatment Bellna had been put through. Their

goldenshirts didn't look as pleased as mine, though, and I wondered

what sort of test Bellna had passed that the others hadn't. It felt as

though I'd been out for some time, but that wasn't possible; the male

slave was still at it with the girl slave, and they both seemed to be

enjoying the rapid movement. A second go around would have been more

leisurely and undemanding, so they still had to be at it from the first

time. My knees began aching again almost immediately, and that device

was more uncomfortable than it had been earlier; I listened to the

other girls crying and watched the two slaves enjoying themselves, and

thought about how nice the deep, empty woods would be right then.

My mind wandered a short distance, but it was brought back rather

quickly when the male slave was commanded to finish his fun. Very

reluctantly he did so, emptying his played out need into the girl who

was also reluctant to let him go, and then he leaned down and kissed

her briefly, something he hadn't done even when he was using her. The

girl seemed touched by the kiss, but she was given no more than a

matter of seconds to enjoy the gesture. As soon as the male slave had

withdrawn from her and stood, one of the armed men took her by the hair

and dragged her in front of light-shirt.

"I seem to recall, slave, that you attempted to counter a command of

mine," he drawled, looking at her with an unblinking stare. "Could such

a thing be possible?"

"Master, forgive me!" she whispered, beginning to tremble violently

despite the fist in her hair. "I had no knowledge of what I said! Never

would I have\a133"

"Enough," he interrupted mildly, cutting off her outpouring with the

single word. "There are no excuses and there are no exceptions. Punish

her."

The girl fell apart into absolute hysteria, but that didn't keep her

from being dragged farther into the space between our line and the

seated man in the light yellow shirt. She was forced to a kneeling

position with her head to her knees, a position that her extreme terror

kept her rigidly locked into. No one said anything about what would

happen if she broke the position, but no one had to. It might have

helped the girl a little to know that the male slave stood with his

feet spread and hands curled into fists, a furious expression in his

eyes and the point of the sword of the second armed man in his back,

but only on a moral-support level. Physically nothing was going to help

her, and when the first armed man, who had dragged her to where she

knelt, opened his swordbelt and slipped the scabbard off, even the

sniffles of the two little girls to my left died to silence.

The beating was pretty bad, especially since it was given so matter-offactly.

There was no anger on the part of anyone, but the poor girl was

beaten until her body was covered with welts, until too many of those

welts were split open, until the blood covered all of her back like

oozing paint. Toward the end of it she didn't even twitch, showing she

was unconscious, but knowing that even that hadn't stopped the beating

made the whole thing much more chilling. The trembling I was taken with

wasn't all Bellna's doing, and there was no dispute as to who was in

control. The Bellna presence was able to pick up the tenor of my deepest feelings, and they frightened her even more than the beating.

When it was all over, men were called in to carry the unconscious girl

out, and then we were back to lesson time. Or, rather, specific

training time. The girl's beating had been a lesson for the three new

slaves, and that lesson wasn't lost on any of us. I trembled and

cowered just as much as the other two girls, but only because I'm a

professional and therefore able to force the necessary self-control.

Light-shirt had the male slave chained down tight on his back, and then

we were set to practicing on him, touching, caressing, arousing. His

obvious displeasure at the girl's beating hadn't been missed, and he

was next in line as an object lesson, his lot only a little less

painful than the girl's. We took turns at the various tasks, practicing

until we got some response out of the slave, all the time being urged

on, directed, and aroused ourselves by our individual golden-shirts.

The key word for the conditioning turned out to be "serve," and the

conditioned reflex itself was arousal. Given enough time, the slavers

could have had almost anyone writhing just about instantly, and that

became a considerable worry for me. I can fake interest and desire

better than most, but true arousal involves bodily reactions that

simply aren't on my instantaneous list. The golden-shirts were arousing

us slowly and checking those bodily reactions on a casual basis just

then, but the longer that training went on, the faster they'd expect a

reaction and the closer they'd be checking. I had to be out of there

before that happened, or else allow myself to be really conditioned.

Anything in between would be a dead give-away, of my differences if

nothing else. The male slave strained at the chains that held him,

gritting his teeth at the way we were being taught how not to allow

release in order to increase pleasure, his suffering getting my full

sympathy. We three girls were too clumsy to suit our golden-shirts, so

we weren't being allowed release either.

The training seemed to go on for days before we were allowed a break.

We three and the male slave were covered with sweat, aching all over

and with no strength left, but the training didn't stop until the

slavers decided it was time. We girls were each sent to a separate wall

of the room to lie down near, but our guinea pig was left where he'd

been chained. I lay on my side beside the wall I'd been given, my eyes

closed, but there was nothing I could even try to do about how hot I

was. My golden-shirt was very thorough when it came to women's bodies,

and he'd been trying to see how eager he could make me and how long he

could keep me that way. I'd stayed in character and had begged him to

decide to touch me, but that hadn't been part of the training program,

- so he hadn't. We were up to having to earn our caresses of release,

but as clumsy and inexperienced as we were that was just about

impossible. I'd cried the way the other girls had, and had gotten

patted on the bottom as punishment like them, and then I'd gone back to

practicing as they had done. The only thing I hadn't done was show how

practiced I already was at those lessons, and even as strung out as I

felt, the omission wasn't hard. I don't believe in cooperating with the

enemy unless forced to it, and I'd taken a lot worse in my time.

I was left alone for about twenty minutes, long enough for the sweat to

dry and some measure of strength to return, but not long enough to be

over squirming uncomfortably where I lay. The worst thing about those

devices that had been put in us seemed to be the way they continued

arousal and made it worse, an on-going feedback from one set of

sensations to the next. The absolute worst was when they were patted or

deliberately moved around, and the sadistic sons had done a lot of that

during the hours just past. Bellna was beaten down and miserable in her hidden corner, well into the need for tears, so I had taken my cue and

let the tears roll silently down my cheeks to keep me in character. I

didn't know what was on the schedule to be done to us next, but when

footsteps came up to me and stopped, I knew it was about to happen.

"Do you weep, little slave?" came the voice of my golden-shirt,

sounding smugly superior. "Are you harmed in some way?"

"I am not harmed," I sniffled in answer, opening my eyes to look up at

him. He stood above me holding a wooden bowl, and looked as distantly

amused as he sounded.

"For what reason, then, do you weep, little slave?" he asked, folding

down to sit cross-legged at my side.

"I am-in great discomfort," I got out, coloring with embarrassment as I

said it. "Never have I been given such discomfort before, and I dislike

it a great deal."

"Your discomfort comes from the fact that you have not been pleasing,"

he told me pointedly, with an air of mentioning something I knew as

well as he, but just wouldn't yet admit. "Slaves who are displeasing

are often left in discomfort for days, despite the fact that they

dislike the state. Would it not be better to serve properly?"

I gasped at the twinge and rush of heat I felt at the use of the key

word and immediately closed my eyes again, pretending to feel more of

the reaction than I really did. The conditioning had gotten a weak hold

on me after all - since I was human, it would have been surprising if

it hadn't - but I was still well in control when wanted to be. Right

then I couldn't afford to be in control at all, and the tears welled up

in my eyes even more.

"I have not refused to do as I was told," I sniffed, just short of

sobbing. "I have tried and tried, and still am I left in terrible

discomfort. I have not refused!"

"You have not been permitted to refuse," he answered, still in that

same tone. "Nor shall you be permitted to refuse. It is true you have

attempted to obey, yet you have not succeeded. Rewards are given for

obedience alone, the mere attempt being insufficient. When you have

succeeded in being truly pleasing and obedient, the reward will be

yours. For failure you may expect no more than punishment."

I opened my eyes fast to look at him through a film of tears, seeing

what I hoped I wouldn't see. He was trying to look solemn and stern out

of necessity, but his eyes said he was about to have some fun.

"No," I begged, shaking my head against the rough floor mat. "Do not

punish me, I beg of you!"

"Punishment is the manner in which young slaves are taught," he chided,

sticking to his decision. "The sooner you are able to be totally

pleasing, the sooner will true ecstasy be yours. Were I to withhold

punishment from you, so would I be withholding your ecstasy. Do you

wish to reach perfection?" I had no choice but to nod miserably as I

cried, but all he acknowledged seeing was the nod. "Very well, then.

Ask that I punish you."

"I-ask that you punish me," I sobbed, silently damning him for his

sadism. He smiled in full approval, put down the bowl he was holding,

then moved me to my back. It didn't take long before I was kicking and

screaming from his ministrations, but I was just led up to the

threshold, not allowed to cross. He seemed to know exactly when to stop

what he was doing, when to keep it going, and when to increase the

rhythm. Every once in a while he moved his hand beneath me to play with

the device, - and that made it all terribly worse. My whole body

screamed with need, but all I was given was punishment.

When he finally took his hands away, I lay crying for some time before I was able to control it and then I was given some help. I was told to

calm myself, and when I couldn't I was touched again, lightly, enough

to know that the longer I kept it up, the more I would be touched. Out

of desperation I swallowed down the sobs and half-screams, dimly

realizing that I wouldn't be allowed to cry at all pretty soon. They

would tighten the chains slowly, slowly, until nothing was left but

those actions demanded of a slave.

The bowl he had brought over was filled with pieces of soup-soaked dark

bread, and I was forced to my belly and made to eat what he put in my

mouth: The mess was unbelievably tasteless, but I needed the moisture

content desperately. As far as hunger went I didn't have much of an

appetite, but Bellna was starving so I had to be the same. I had to

lick his fingers clean when I'd had all he wanted to give me, and that

really put my self-control to the test. If I'd had any fast way out of

there, he would have had one or two fingers less.

As soon as my meal was done, I was put back to practicing on the male

slave. He hadn't been given anything but a couple of swallows of water,

and despite the savagely determined look in his eyes, he was really

suffering. Once the other two girls had been punished and fed the way I

had been, they were sent to join me in working on the slave while our

golden-shirts and light-shirt had a meal served them. The meal was an

elaborate multi-course thing served by slave females in faded green,

and it wasn't long before it became clear that that meal would be used

as another training device. The slaves in green were treated as so much

furniture, but we three in white were under constant observation. They

waited until we'd begun casting covert glances at the food and were

nearly drooling, and then we were offered bits of it as a reward for

setting the male slave to moaning. The offer seemed to be totally on

the up-and-square and completely logical in a slave-training sense, but

something bothered me about it right from the beginning. Our training

had been different from the slave-training procedures usually used by

slavers, but I couldn't see where the kicker could be. The dark-haired

girl was the first to earn her reward, and although she was required to

crawl on her belly to her golden-shirt, she got it without more than a

little "good-natured" teasing. The small, auburn-haired girl was next,

and she, too, got a mouthful of juicy, nicely roasted fowl. I was the

only one who hadn't been rewarded, and I couldn't afford not to earn

what the others did, so I cheated a little and got my squirming howl

out of the male slave, then turned anxious eyes on my golden-shirt. He

smiled in approval and gestured me to him, and once I had wiggled and

crawled my way over, he held out a good, dripping chunk of roast.

"Complete obedience is rewarded," he said, almost word for word what

had been said to the other tw9 girls. "As you have been obedient, you

may now claim your reward."

It seemed as though I was expected to take the food, but the nagging

doubt I'd had earlier hadn't left me. I hesitated as I looked up at

him, trying to ignore how unbelievable the device in me had made the

crawl, and suddenly, just that easily, everything fell into place.

"I was-was told that my dis-discomfort would be seen to if I were

obedient," I stumbled, humiliated, embarrassed - but desperate. "Must I

have the food instead?"

"Did I not tell you she would be the first to respond properly?" my

golden-shirt said to the other three men with a laugh of triumph. "A

body such as hers must of necessity be responsive."

"Ours remain virgin and therefore ignorant," grumbled one of the other

golden-shirts while light-shirt laughed. "Yours has had a taste of what

a man might do, and is therefore more eager. The wager should not have been made."

"And yet the wager was made," my golden-shirt laughed again, tossing

away the piece of fowl and wiping his hands on a cloth. "Mine has won

and yours have lost. Which is to come first, the punishment or the

reward?"

The question was addressed to light-shirt, who looked between me and

the now-trembling other girls with lighthearted amusement. He made a

show of thinking the question over, probably to increase the girls'

torment, and then he looked back at my golden-shirt.

"The punishment will be given first, I think," he drawled, completely

aware of the terrible disappointment he thought he was causing in me.

"Rewards are given when the master considers it appropriate for them to

be given; punishments are given as quickly as they are earned. Also,

the loss of reward will be more keenly felt after punishment."

"I do not understand what I have done to be punished!" the small,

auburn-haired girl wailed, trying to shrink back even as she spoke. "I

was completely obedient!"

"Obedient, perhaps," light-shirt nodded, looking at her soberly. "As to

pleasing, however, the answer is not the same. Is your master to be

pleased when you have chosen another thing above his caress? The

highest obedience you may give is to consider his pleasure above all

else. This is a lesson you must learn before you are fit to serve him."

The key word again. I heard the other girls choke as the heat flashed

through me, and knew their punishment had just been added to. The fact

that I was punished right along with them made absolutely no difference

to light-shirt, of course; I was nothing but a slave under his

training, and the little bit of extra would surely do me good.

"We will also see how truly obedient your slave is," light-shirt went

on to my golden-shirt "Unbind the chain between her wrists, and we

will give her the position she must maintain till the time of her

reward."

I gave them the look of frightened anticipation they expected, and my

golden-shirt chuckled as he reached down to my waist. I had to lie on

my side until the chain was unwound, and then light-shirt rose and

gestured me to my feet.

"You will observe your sisters' punishment from here," he said, leading

me over to the male slave, who was still in a state of intense

excitement. I followed with the small, mincing steps forced on me by

the ankle chain, and couldn't help whimpering from Bellna's worry over

what was going to happen. "Go to your hands and knees beside this

slave, and then I will direct you further."

I got down to my hands and knees as quickly as possible, afraid to ask

myself what that chief sadist was up to, and then didn't have to ask.

He walked behind me, put an arm around my waist, then lifted me up and

put me face down on the male slave's legs. I gasped and grabbed those

legs to keep from falling off, but light-shirt wasn't finished with

placing me. I was tugged backward by the ankles until my arms were just

about around the slave's knees, my own knees were spread by the simple

expedient of pushing my ankles closer to me, and then I felt the touch

of something being put just inside the furnace that had once been a

part of my body. Reason began leaving me when I realized it was the

male slave who had been started into me just when I needed him so

badly, but a heavy hand kept me from inching backward until I had all

of him.

"You may not allow him more deeply within you," light-shirt ordered as

I whimpered again and squirmed hard enough to drive myself even

crazier. "Nor may you release him from where he was placed. Also are you forbidden to touch yourself in any manner, for that is a doing

reserved to your master alone. You will do no more than watch your

sisters' punishment, and then you will perhaps be given your reward."

Perhaps. The bastard laughed softly as I began to cry, even more when I

cut off the crying fast in response to being touched in warning. No

more crying without permission, especially no crying which would

distract me from the way I felt-and the way the male slave felt. His

leg muscles strained under my arms as he gruntingly tried to drive

himself into me, over and over again, as though he really had a chance

of accomplishing it. I wanted him inside me, just as desperately as he

wanted it, but I'd been ordered not to let it happen. Bellna screamed

inside my head and tried to take over, but my mind was so full of

hatred that she couldn't do it. A golden haze formed in front of my

eyes, making me look longingly at the swords the armed men wore, but I

knew I had no chance of taking them. Another time, something inside me

seemed to say. Soon another opportunity will present itself and then

the sword will be yours. I settled down behind the golden haze, burning

all over, and just waited.

The other two girls were punished again with arousal without relief,

but one at a time. The golden haze intensified when I realized they

were dragging it out to make it worse for me, but by the time it was

all done the haze was gone, Bellna was practically comatose, and I was

trying not to move even to breathe. The male slave underneath me was

making noises that said he would kill everyone with his bare hands if

he ever got loose; I empathized more than he would ever know. At long

last I was allowed to crawl away from the slave to my golden-shirt, was

ordered to beg to be touched, and then was taken into my golden-shirt's

lap for my reward. He bent me backward over one knee before throwing

the tiny skirt out of his way, buried his fist in my hair with a really

painful grip, then finally got down to giving me relief. As hot as I

was it didn't take long, and as soon as I had what I'd been promised, I

was dumped back on the floor mat to recover. I lay unmoving with my

eyes closed, hearing the muffled sobs of the two punished girls,

feeling as though I'd been working out a sentence at hard labor. My

body was exhausted but my mind slowly grew dear, and then some

interesting questions occurred to me.

I'd been too busy to notice it earlier, but I had finally gotten around

to wondering what light-shirt and three golden-shirts were made of.

Nothing that had been done to us, neither pleasure nor pain, had

aroused them in the slightest. They had enjoyed the times they were

putting us through hell, but they hadn't enjoyed it to the point of

arousal. The two armed men, I had half-noticed, had been replaced three

times since the first pair had brought the male slave, and even so the

latest ones had been shifting from foot to foot, growing hot despite

being on duty. The other four men had been here right from the start,

were intimately involved, and-nothing. What made them so different? And

what was the main object of the way we were being treated? The goldenshirts

and light-shirt called me and the others slave and referred to

themselves as masters, but neither I nor the other girls had been

ordered to call them that. All three of us had spoken without specific

permission, but we hadn't been punished for it and our questions had

been answered promptly and seriously.

Slaves weren't usually given that much freedom, and the reason for it

became a gnawing, twisting worry.

I was given a generous five minutes to recover, and then all three of

us were ordered to our feet. My two fellow victims were so badly in

need they could barely walk, but that's what we were all made to do. My wrists were left with the relative freedom of having their chain

undone, but I was reminded by light-shirt that I was forbidden to touch

myself. All seven of us, we three girls, the three golden-shirts, and

light-shirt then left the room light-shirt leading; I was first with

the other girls in their line positions, a golden-shirt behind each of

us.

Outside the room was a tent corridor with other tent rooms leading off

it, and all of those rooms were open. Most of the rooms were empty, but

a few of them had occupants, mostly doing things I didn't understand.

One naked young girl in slave chains lay alone in a room on a large fur

piece, her eyes closed, her body twisting and squirming on the fur, a

low, constant moan coming from her throat. As I stared at her it

suddenly came to me that her body was covered with faint welts, as

though she'd been beaten a little before being put in there, but she

didn't seem to be in pain from that. Her squirming said she was badly

in need and quickly growing hotter, and the last glimpse I had of her

showed the thin leather strip tied around her waist and one of the thin

strips tied to it leading up from between her legs. Her wrists had been

as free as the wrist chain let them be, but despite her being alone,

her hands had been nowhere near her body. I didn't know if she was

being punished or trained, and if trained, to what purpose?

Another room had two girls in white slave ponchos being rewarded the

way I had been rewarded, and their sobs of pleasure and relief seemed

to take no notice of the way they were being hurt at the same time. One

of them was bent forward by the armlock her golden-shirt held her in

while he gave her secondary relief, and the other was bent backward by

a tight fistful of hair in the same way I'd been held. The two girls

behind me whimpered at the sight, but the next room held a sight that

made them whimper even more. A pretty girl in slave green was being

used by a dark gold-shirted guard who had dropped his pants for the

occasion, and her moan-filled writhings were so intense that they

reached out to me as well. It would have been a lot worse, though, if

the sight hadn't brought up a very disturbing question: we three and

the two girls being rewarded were given hand relief and nothing more;

we were even being trained to beg to be touched rather than used. It

was possible that they wanted the other two to remain virgins, but

Bellna wasn't a virgin. The girls in green. were used normally even

though it was still rape; what the hell did they have in mind for us?

I could have spent a lot of time prodding at the questions I had, but

the walk didn't talk long enough. The second room down from the guard

and his slave was our destination, and we were led into it. The front

of it was nothing more than a narrow corridor formed by heavy hide

partitions making up separate, small rooms, and three older women

stepped out of three of those rooms. All three of the women were

beautiful, all three of them wore slave chains and green cloth ponchos,

and all three of them immediately knelt to light-shirt.

"Slaves, there are new slaves here for you to assist," light-shirt told

them, giving them the same sort of pleased inspection he seemed to give

all slave females. "Have them seen to by our return."

"Yes, master," the three women murmured together, then rose gracefully

to smile at us newcomers. The one on the right came over to me, touched

my face gently with a long-fingered hand, then put her arm around my

shoulders and led me to the right, toward the small room she'd come out

of. She lifted the leather flap, urged me in first, followed and

dropped the flap, then put her arms around me and hugged me.

"Dear sister, I am so pleased for you," she said in a low, throaty

voice, patting my back. "You have already learned to give pleasure to our masters, I see, and have clearly been given pleasure in turn. How I

wish I had been so quick to learn! The ecstasy I was unable to receive,

merely because of my own slowness! Ah, me. I joy that you need not wait

as long as I."

She patted my shoulder again and let me go, then smiled at the

confusion she could see on my face. I was still pretending to feel what

the Bellna presence really was feeling, and my confusion amused her.

"I am able to know of your success through two things," she said,

patting my cheek again. "Although you are clearly in discomfort from

the device you wear, you are scarcely in such discomfort as the others,

showing that you have been eased. Also have you been allowed the full

grace and attractiveness of your chains, a further reward for one who

has earned approval. You are now able to move and gesture as a woman,

rather than be restrained as a child."

"I am now-womanly?" I asked, looking down at the chains and then back

to my new friend as though I really believed her. "I am no longer to be

burdened with the look of a mere girl?"

"No, you are no longer a mere girl," she laughed in good-natured

amusement, looking me over with a lighthearted indulgence I was sure

she didn't really feel. "It is for that reason that you must pretend to

childlike qualities, so that you may give further pleasure to our

masters-and thereby reach your ultimate reward the sooner."

"I cannot understand what you speak of," I protested in Bellnainnocence,

but I was very much afraid that I did understand. "For what

reason must I pretend to childishness, and what ultimate reward do you

speak of?"

"Perhaps it would be best if I were to explain all things to you," she

mused, one slim finger tapping her lips as she considered the idea.

"Yes, I shall give you what explanations you require, yet must I

minister to you the while. Should the necessary be left undone when the

masters return, we will both be punished. Come here."

She gestured me over to the back of the tiny room, where buckets of

water, piles of soft clothes, jars and bottles and all sorts of

paraphernalia stood. When we got there she stopped and reached out to

the poncho I wore, beginning to tug it off me.

"I must see to the freshening of your body," she explained, having more

trouble undressing me than light-shirt had had with the blonde slave.

She would have had an easier time of it if she'd been bigger, but she

was the biggest of the three who had been waiting for us and she still

didn't make my height. My golden-shirt had called me "little slave" and

other ickiness of the same sort, all despite the fact that the names

didn't fit. I might not have had his shoulder width, but he didn't have

more than a couple of inches on me.

"You must be clean and sweet-smelling, else our masters will not be

pleased," she said, taking the worn, sweat-stained poncho away. She

stopped to look closely at my now bare body, then smiled a sweet smile

of remembrance. "How well I recall my own time of beginning," she

sighed, glorying in the memory. "My body was as young and innocent as

yours, and when I was given reward by our masters, I imagined the

pleasure to be the most a woman was capable of experiencing. How

foolishly, happily wrong I was! Are you unbroached?"

"No," I answered, already blushing as I was expected to do. "Myengagement

was formally announced and consummated."

"Swiftly and with singular lack of skill," she nodded, clearly

dismissing the point. "Your first experience would be even greater if

you had not been opened, yet will you nevertheless find it

unforgettable. Kneel down and I will remove the device from you, and then you may relieve yourself."

Bellna was awed by the beautiful older woman and would have obeyed

without question, so I had no choice but to do the same. Once I was on

my knees she unknotted the leather both front and back, drew out the

device more slowly than I liked, then directed me to the more distant

bucket that was half full of water. I let Bellna's distress keep the

blush on my skin, but I didn't let her repugnance keep me from using

that bucket every way I could. The woman bustled around in a graceful

way until I'd finished, and then she directed me to the other bucket.

"I will speak as I bathe you, and you have naught to do save listen,"

she said, gesturing that I was to kneel again. She knelt too, right

near me, and I decided it was time for a legitimate question.

"For what reason am I not to freshen my own body?" I asked, watching as

she took a soft, clean cloth from the pile and dipped it in a bucket of

clean water.

"In future you will be required to do so," she answered, paying

attention to squeezing out the cloth. "For this one time I am commanded

to bathe you, and we may not question the will of masters. Lean a bit

more toward me."

I leaned toward her, and had my face, neck and ears washed; with that

done she wet the cloth again and smiled her lovely smile.

"You are among those who are incredibly fortunate, sister and child of

chin," she murmured, moving the cloth over me. "Not many are chosen for

our lot, for we are those who are allowed the blessings of ecstasy.

Merely by obeying without question and thinking of no other thing than

giving pleasure, we are given ecstasy beyond the knowledge of any other

woman. Our masters will punish failure, yet even with punishment do

they bring us to our ultimate goal. You must strive ever harder to he

perfect in your obedience, for in such a way will reward be constantly

yours. And when you are at last allowed the ultimate ecstasy, you will

know that you must continue striving so that it will he yours forever.

"Earlier we spoke of pretending to childishness, and you were unable to

understand the need for this. The answer lies in pleasing our masters,

of course, for this is the sole road to our ultimate goal. Our masters

are pleased to be given service by the very young and innocent,

therefore do we perform the acts which please them. When you are

permitted to beg for a thing, do so as though you were a small girl

asking a thing of her father. You are even permitted to pout and

wheedle to some extent. Do so, and your rewards will be richer beyond

even your own expectations, and will quickly lead to your ultimate

reward.

"The ultimate reward! Ah, how I wish you might truly know of it before

it is given you! Although you have experienced the presence of a man

within you, the ultimate reward is so far beyond that small, abortive

experience that there is no comparison. You will be used as a slave,

will know yourself a slave, and will know that no free woman will

experience the ecstasy that you do. You must be fully a slave before

this is given you, therefore must you strive with all your might to

achieve perfect obedience and the giving of pleasure. I am filled with

great joy that you have already come so far along the road, and will

surely advance even more rapidly now. Lie on your belly now so that I

may wash the back of you."

I flattened out face down as she asked, glad that I had absolute

control over my expression. The propaganda she'd fed me made me want to

look around for a shovel or hip boots, but the. part about pretending

to be a child made me want to throw up. Those sadists calling

themselves masters liked the idea of messing around with little girls, but they also wanted women's bodies. Catch a girl young enough, train

her to continue acting like a child, and when her body matures make

sure that her mind doesn't. Perpetual little girls to tickle the

perverted pleasure of so called men, helped along in their training by

female slaves ordered to act the part of mother figures. That was what

that bathing routine was all about, a young girl being told the facts

of life by a helpful, sympathetic, approving mother who has already

gone through the same herself and wants nothing less for her beloved

daughter. More conditioning of a particularly vicious sort, the sort

that took advantage of peoples' basic natures. I despised those slavers

for what they were doing, but all they would see was that I was going

along with it. Maybe, if I got very lucky, one or two of them would try

getting in my way when I was ready to leave that place.

The propaganda lecture went on as long as the washing did, and all of

me was washed except my hair. My scalp was rubbed with a cloth and then

allowed to dry, and while it was doing so some of those bottles and

jars were used. The bottles held unscented body lotions, unscented so

that the odors of desire coming from me would be clear to "our" masters

and add to their pleasure. I was nothing if not ardently eager to get

on with pleasing everyone in sight, but the contents of one of the jars

put a strain on the authenticity of my eagerness. I was told it was a

salve designed to ease the irritation in my private parts caused by the

device and all the handling I'd had, and that part of it wasn't a lie.

The salve did ease me, but a little gentle rubbing by the woman after

it was put on me showed that the salve was also a sensitizer, designed

to make my flesh even more sensitive to caresses than it had been. I

was made to bend over on my knees so that my bottom could be taken care

of, and it was all I could do to follow instructions with the trust of

innocence. Bellna wouldn't have known what the salve was doing so I

couldn't know; I just had to bend over and take it. After that my hair

was brushed out, and then I was told I could rest until the masters

came for me. I lay down on the spot indicated and closed my eyes, but

the woman knew damned well I wouldn't rest. I'd been faintly aroused

again, but all I could do about it was wait for the man who could

choose to make it go away-if he was pleased enough to do so.

A good twenty or twenty-five minutes passed before anyone showed up,

during which time the salve took my faint arousal and slowly increased

it to squirming level. Every minute that passed made Bellna more and

more anxious, a clear indication of what my own actions had to be. I

was being forced to think of nothing but the arrival of the masters,

and also what I could do to please them enough to ease me. Everything

done in that place was an aspect of conditioning, a conditioning that

would probably have broken down even my defenses if it had been kept up

long enough. Some people, like me, are trained to take high levels of

pain, but no one, trained or not, can avoid being affected by constant

positive and negative reinforcement of the pleasure reflex. The human

mind is made to resist pain whenever it can, but pleasure? Hell, that's

what we're built to try for!

When my golden-shirt finally showed up, the woman went to her knees to

him and I wasn't far behind her. I made a real production out of it,

sitting up fast in relief, ready to blurt out my need, suddenly seeing

what my "mother" was doing, then quickly doing the same. My eagerness

to please had been increased as much as they'd wanted it to be, and the

indulgent smile on my golden-shirt's face was covering a good deal of

satisfaction.

"How refreshed and lovely you look, little slave," he said, stopping a

few steps into the room. "Rise to your feet so that I might see all of you."

The blush covering me as I stood up made him chuckle, and that

naturally increased Bellna's blush output. Having her there was

becoming handier and handier; I can blush on demand, but not from head

to foot. I turned slowly at his gesture, making an inexperienced stab

at moving as gracefully as the woman had, and when I turned to face him

again there was real amusement in his expression.

"Your eagerness pleases me, slave," he said, and so help me my body

reacted to that verbal stroking in a way that was horrifying. "Go and

fetch your device now, and I will reinsert it."

Morale dropped down to the floor at that, but I felt no urge to argue

him out of his decision. Instead I hurried over to where the woman had

put the device and quickly brought it to him, desperate to do

everything he asked and please him again. If he wasn't pleased I

wouldn't be rewarded, so I had to do all I could to please him. The

reactions and straight line logic were all Bellna's, who would have

been three-quarters of the way into full slavery if she'd really been

there. I handed over the device with a small and fear-filled pout, and

my golden-shirt chuckled even more.

"You dislike this device and yet you obey," he said with such obvious

approval that Bellna nearly purred. "Your obedience will be remembered.

Down to your knees now and brow to the floor."

I knelt and bent over as ordered, trembling with anticipation at the

thought of being touched by him. The situation was as frightening as it

was infuriating, but I couldn't do anything about either emotion except

thrust them away. I was being conditioned more than I wanted to be, and

that was the danger; my only edge was that I was aware of it and

therefore in a position to negate the worst parts of the condition. Or

I'd damned well better be able to negate most of it. I intended going

for the break as soon as it got dark; I'd find out then how good a job

I was doing.

The golden-shirt took his time putting the device back in, playing

around until I'd moaned and squirmed enough to suit him. The Bellna

part of my mind found the torture highly arousing; it had come to her

that the man was getting pleasure from what he was doing, and she very

much wanted to give him pleasure. She was sure he would decide to

reward her after that, but once the device had been inched in as deep

as it could go and had been tied in back, I was ordered to my feet

again.

"Your lessons will continue immediately," golden-shirt said as he tied

the leather in front, somewhat tighter than it had originally been. "I

feel certain that you wish to achieve the highest level of obedience

and skill as soon as you possibly may."

"Oh, yes!" I breathed, looking into his face with all the' ardor I

could muster. "I feel a-need to obey that I have never before felt."

"Excellent," he nodded, showing only a small smile of satisfaction.

"You will be given ample opportunity for obedience. Your slave-shift

may be left here, for you will not require the use of it for a time.

Precede me out of the room."

I gave my poncho one agonizing glance, then turned immediately toward

the room's exit. Bellna was mortified at the thought of walking around

naked, but she didn't want to disobey. After all, there were very few

people in the tent complex, so it shouldn't be too embarrassing.

No one was in the small room-corridor or in the between-rooms corridor,

but when I followed directions into the room directly across the way,

Bellna's shock stopped me short with a gasp two steps through the

doorway. There were more than a dozen green-clad slave females, all in their twenties, three dark-goldshirted men with swords and whips, and a

naked, staked-down male slave. The slave females giggled when they saw

me even as they got to their knees to the golden-shirt behind me, and

all Bellna wanted to do was run and hide. She was absolutely crushed at

being the only naked female in the room, but when I took one

involuntary step backward, I bumped into my golden-shirt.

"You must move forward, not backward, little slave," he said, putting

his hand to me. I gasped again and found myself doing as I'd been told

to do, but I couldn't escape his hand guiding me across the floor. The

female slaves were giggling almost nonstop, and Bellna would have been

happy to curl up and die.

"You will use this slave to show me the extent of what you have

learned," golden-shirt told me when we'd reached the staked-down male

slave. "Should your obedience and learning prove sufficient, you may be

rewarded."

"I am to do this before them?" I whispered back, indicating the female

slaves with a desperate glance. "And what of those others who were with

me? Are we not to await their arrival?"

"You will no longer be training with those others," he said, again

highly amused. "Their progress will be slower, and need not hold you

back in yours. Also is your training to be somewhat different from

theirs. Are you prepared to begin?"

I opened my mouth to answer him, but nothing came out. I was being

ordered to arouse the male slave, a strange male slave, in front of an

audience that was horribly and embarrassingly intimidating for the

Bellna presence. She was an awkward little girl being commanded to

perform naked in front of other females older than she, commanded to an

act she had never even conceived of before that morning. The agony of

wanting to obey but fearing failure and ridicule was terrible for her,

but thanks to our link-up it was almost as bad for me. The tears formed

in my eyes as I began trembling, but my golden-shirt didn't let me go

all the way to hysteria.

"It seems you will require a small amount of encouragement before you

begin," he drawled, then pointed to the floor and snapped, "Kneel!"

His tone stopped Bellna short in her misery and sent her cringing back,

giving me enough breathing room to keel before I was accused of

disobedience. I had enough time to notice that the floor mat in that

room was a good deal softer than the one in the first room, and then

golden-shirt had me by the hair. The encouragement he gave was of the

expected sort, the key word "serve" being used at the same time to

reinforce it, and it wasn't long before I was writhing and begging to

obey the orders I'd been given. He let me beg for some time before he

magnanimously allowed it, and then he stayed close and started up the

encouragement again any time he thought I needed it. It was able to

stay just unrattled enough to remember what I was and wasn't supposed

to know, but it was a close thing.

When I had the male slave shouting and cursing, I was finally allowed

to stop. I was trembling and covered with sweat and had my teeth

clenched against Bellna's screaming in my skull, but some cooler, more

rational part of me had decided that my reward would for some reason be

put off again. I didn't want to hear that any more than Bellna did, but

I was very much afraid it would turn out to be true. When my goldenshirt

announced that I'd earned my reward after all, I felt a relief

and gratitude that was sickening. I was disgusted with myself for

reacting that way, but there was nothing I could do to stop it - and

then the kicker came. I could have my reward then and there, in front

of everyone including all those very amused female slaves, or I could wait and have it later, at some unspecified time, but in private. The

choice was given to me to make; I was almost too strung out to be

suspicious, but suspicion is a disease I've had a lot of years, and

it's saved me pain and kept me alive more often than sweet trust ever

could. Bellna wanted to wait, and so did I, but for some vague reason

that choice didn't feel right. The last thing I wanted was to be

humiliated in front of a totally unsympathetic audience, but that was

the way I would have to go. I hesitated no more than an instant, then

looked up at golden-shirt.

"I-beg that you choose to reward me now," I whispered, blushing

furiously but still squirming where I knelt. "I-feel great discomfortand-

and-cannot wait."

"You cannot wait," he repeated in a voice loud enough to reach everyone

in the room, satisfaction shining from his eyes to keep his chuckle

company. "As you cannot wait, I shall give you the reward you have

earned upon the moment."

Again Bellna was shattered by the announcement and following laughter,

but there was no longer any way out of the mess. Golden-shirt sat down

next to me, took me in his lap and bent me backward, then began giving

me my reward. I was so deeply lost to the sensations that every other

consideration faded away - including the fact that the fingers of his

free hand closed even more tightly on one of my nipples as he worked

me. The pain was there but so was release, and once again I was thrown

to the floor mat to recover.

I don't know when the dirty suspicion came to me, but after an

uncounted time of lying in a heap, I suddenly knew another facet of the

conditioning I was being put. Through and the.difference between my

training and that of the others. All the hints and unexplained

happenings - the bastards were building a link between pain and sexual

arousal and satisfaction. Taken one way to its ultimate conclusion, the

infliction of pain would bring immediate, uncontrollable arousal; taken

the other way, the infliction of that same pain would bring orgasmic

release - or make release impossible without it. The set-up was right

out of a sadist's wet dreams, and I couldn't help wondering what I'd

bought myself with the response my golden-shirt had been looking for.

His satisfaction at the choice I'd made had certainly been clear

enough, as clear as the retrospectively seen fact that the deck had

been stacked against that choice. A girl Bellna's age and with her

background should have been mortified at the thought of being done in

front of so many snickering strangers, especially as most of them were

women older than herself-unless she had been made so uncontrollably

sensual that she couldn't help herself. They'd wanted Bellna to react

that way, and the next step could very well be what that solitary girl

on the furs had been given. I'd noticed that she'd been beaten, but I'd

also noticed that she was more worked up sexually than hurting from the

beating. I lay on the floor mat of the room feeling physically

exhausted, but my mind was darting around at light speed. I'd made the

right choice but it had turned out wrong for me, which was the way the

game went sometimes. If I wanted to avoid what the girl on the furs had

gotten, I'd have to backpedal a little.

Sometimes making a decision doesn't mean you'll get to put it into

practice, but that time I got lucky. When my rest time was over and I

was ordered to my feet, it was to he taken to another, smaller room

which contained all males. There were half a dozen slave males and two

armed guards, the slaves only lightly chained and the guards casual and

unconcerned. The slaves were obviously no worry, which told me that the

training given the girls was also used to train the men. Male slaves who gave trouble were punished by being used as subjects for the girls

to work on; those who cooperated were rewarded by being allowed to help

in the training, probably also being allowed the use of ordinary slave

females afterward. I was pushed into the middle of them, had one

pointed out as my subject, and was told to serve that one no matter

what the others did to me.

Use of the key word affected me less strongly than it was supposed to,

but it still affected me. The reward I'd been given was largely

negated, and the men around me laughed softly when I closed my eyes and

squeezed my thighs together with a gasp. They all wore the faded green

of slaves while I stood naked among them, and they obviously enjoyed

the sight of me. Their hungry reactions were very unsettling, and then

I was told to undress my subject in the proper way, the way I'd been

told to do earlier. A well-trained slave kissed her master's body when

she undressed him, and the slave who had been appointed my master

licked his lips in anticipation, eager to get on with it.

I'd decided to make it very clear right from the start that being among

all those men made me nervous. I used an anxious expression when I

reached out a tentative hand to my "master," then jumped with a loud

squeal when I was touched from behind by someone else. I whirled in the

direction of the touch, gasped when two more of the slaves touched me,

then began to cry.

"You fail to serve your master, slave," my golden-shirt admonished,

punishing me lightly by using the key word again. "Were you not told to

ignore all others and attend him alone?"

"I cannot!" I blubbered, looking at him piteously over the shoulders of

two of the slaves. "I have never been alone among so many men, not to

speak of being-unclothed among them! And they all - oh! - touch me! I

b-beg to be allowed to attend him in private."

"You have already learned to attend a master in private," he said with

a frown, a lot less satisfied than he'd been till them. His brown eyes

studied me in silence for a moment, and then he nodded his head. "This

was, perhaps, to be expected. The distraction of the highly unusual is

enough to overcome the recently learned. You must clearly be first

accustomed to that which is strange to you, and then we may proceed.

You all may toy with her a short time."

The last was for the male slaves, of course, and they entered the game

with a zeal I would have found commendable-under other circumstances.

After throwing me to the wolves, my golden-shirt turned and left the

tent room, but the three armed guards were still there to laugh their

heads off while I screamed and tried uselessly to protect myself. The

six slaves moved in as close as they could and began touching me all

over, having no trouble getting past my flailing arms, driving me crazy

and enjoying my near-hysteria. After a couple of minutes someone took

my arms from behind and held them out and away from my sides, forcing

the front of my body forward. So many hands touched me in so many

places that I nearly lost control and defended myself, which would have

scattered and smeared those six like so much firewood or so many rag

dolls. I panted more with the effort to hold myself back than with what

was being done to me, but that doesn't mean I wasn't suffering. Bellna

blubbered in the back of my mind and screamed for permission to obey,

but I couldn't allow that any more than I could allow what I wanted to

do. Now that I'd broken the pattern of training, I had to keep it

broken.

When my golden-shirt finally came back, I was down on my knees with my

forehead pressed to the mat, one of the slaves kneeling on my hair. I

was screaming almost nonstop from the way they were stabbing at me with their bodies without having removed their loincloths, teasing me with

what they'd made me want so desperately. Hands fondled my breasts and

toyed with the device, different hands taking turns doing different

things while I was poked at and stroked and denied what I ached for. I

screamed and struggled, trying to get loose to reach one of them - and

then all of them were gone, out of reach and through with the game. I

pushed myself up on all fours and raised my head, the tears streaming

down my cheeks and my body flaming, just in time to see the gesture

from my golden-shirt that I was to get to my feet. It was something of

a struggle but I managed it, and once I was erect the golden-shirt

stepped closer to me, took my wrist chain between my left wrist and the

belt loop, turned, and dragged me behind him out of the room.

To be entirely accurate, I was dragged down to the end of the corridor,

through a room that looked just like all the others, but which led

outside. It was an hour or so past noon of another pretty day, but

neither Bellna nor I were in any condition to appreciate it. Bellna was

having hysterics over the number of people stopping or turning around

to stare at my naked, sweat-covered body, and I was mewling helplessly

at the pace the golden-shirt was forcing me to. When I could force

myself to speak I begged mindlessly to be touched, but it wasn't

rewarding I'd set myself up for. The thin grass and stones and dirt I

minced over barely entered my awareness, no more than the wide city of

tents stretching in all directions throughout the large forest

clearing. We crossed an open space, circled a dark green tent, then

made for a large brown, yellow and white tent with flaps thrown back.

The large tent was too well lit with lamps for it to be dim even after

the brightness of the day. It was filled with row after row and aisle

after aisle of what had to be display platforms, five inches high for

male slaves, three or four feet high for female slaves. The male slaves

stood with wrists shackled to either side of their heads, their ankles

held tight by manacles set in the platform floors, three platforms of

females and one of males, then another three of females and another one

of males. There was an open space on the female platform directly

opposite the tent entrance, and that was where my golden-shirt dragged

me.

When I was lifted up to kneel on the platform, it came through the

cloud of mindlessness I was wrapped in that this particular platform

was covered with silky, long-haired furs, and that although the other

slaves on display wore their green slave shifts, the three on my

platform were as naked as I. Golden-shirt took out a key, unlocked the

two rings holding my wrist chain to the chain around my waist, unlocked

the right wrist-cuff, then lifted the chain and my left arm to a thick

wooden bar above my head. The chain was wrapped around the bar above

and somewhat behind me, my right arm was raised and the wrist relocked

in the cuff, and then golden-shirt turned and left the tent.

It took a couple of minutes to fight my way through Bellna's constant

howling and the clinging aftermath of what I'd gone through, but once

I'd done it, all I could do was wonder how smart I'd been. I'd been

trying to buy some time away from the slavers' conditioning program,

but all I seemed to have managed was to find another phase of it. A

large number of people were strolling around through the tent, mostly

male people with less than a handful of females, and all of them were

there to look at slaves. Golden-shirt had decided to get me used to

being "unclothed" in front of large numbers of men, and putting me on

display was the way he was doing it. The other females on my platform

had struck me as being as beautiful as Bellna during the few seconds

I'd been able to see them, and that was probably why we were on the furred platform right in front of the entrance. Draw the suckers in and

get them to look, and even if they can't afford the best there's always

second or third best. I was being used as bait even while I was being

trained.

I took a deep breath and moved my head around a little to loosen the

knots in the back of my neck, but the effort didn't do much; being

comfortable in the position I'd been chained was just about impossible.

Not only were my wrists tight to the bar above and behind my head, the

bar itself was in exactly the wrong position in relation to the

platform: too high to let me sit back on my heels, too low to let me

kneel straight without bending. It took a minute or two of still

befuddled thinking to decide that I would be better off if my wrists

were directly over my head or in front of me, but I'd waited too long

for the decision to do any good. A guard in a dark gold shirt stopped

next to me, moved aside the furs right under my feet, then rattled

briefly. When the rattling was over, the cuffs around my ankles were

attached to what was probably a single, very short chain set in the

platform, giving me no movement room at all. I was set in place,

chained facing the entrance at a three-quarter angle, and that's the

way I would stay for a while.

"Pretty little slave," the guard murmured with a half-distracted sound

to his voice as his hands pushed my thighs apart. "You are to keep your

knees wide at all times. It matters not whether you weep or smile; your

knees must remain apart. Should you fail to keep them so, there is a

device to see to it."

His message delivered, he went on his way, not caring whether or not I

wanted to say anything. If I didn't obey there would be another

"device" to take care of the problem, so there was nothing to say.

Bellna whimpered miserably in my head, burning so urgently that it made

me squirm, which in turn set me to cursing silently. I didn't know how

long I'd be there, but the past five minutes had already been too long.

Another five minutes passed, during which time I asked myself why I'd

been stupid enough to decide to wait until dark to make a run for it,

and then another group of buyers came through the tent entrance. There

were five of them, and from their clothes they must have been well-todo

merchants or very minor nobility, and they didn't even pause to look

around. Just as if they'd done it many times before, they came straight

over to my platform and began examining each of us in turn, two of them

listing our major sales points, the other three listening carefully and

occasionally asking questions. I gathered that we four were a yardstick

to measure the other female slaves by, and we had to be gone over

carefully so that nothing important would be missed. Every one of those

sons found it necessary to touch me, not once but any number of times,

and once they were gone I trembled as much as the only one of the other

three girls I could see. Bellna wanted to jump screaming out of my

skin, and there was nothing I could do to calm her. Hell, there was

nothing I could do to calm me, and I supposedly had a lot more control

over me.

Not only did almost every new arrival visit our platform, lots of those

who had been wandering the aisles stopped on their way out to examine

the newly added main platform slave. Some few did nothing but look, but

those were very few indeed. It didn't take long before I was physically

hurting and mentally exhausted, and if I'd really needed to get used to

being surrounded and touched by men in large numbers, that little

interlude would have done it for me. I had followed one of Bellna's

urges and had taken to begging every passing guard to tell someone I

would obey any order given me if only I were taken back to the training tents, but the guards ignored me and continued on their rounds. I was

still able to think clearly enough to know they were probably waiting

for me to beg them to choose to send me back, but it was really too

soon for me to resort to that. If I used it immediately they'd either

think it was a con, or decide I was far enough along for them to get to

the fancy training. I kept picturing the welts on the body of the girl

on the furs, and from my reactions knew I'd better put that off as long

as humanly possible.

At least two or three hours went by before there was a real lull in

arrivals. The slavers were doing a thriving business, but none of the

sold slaves were taken out the patrons' entrance. The buyers left that

way, but the slaves were taken out the back way, to be brought around

and delivered to their new owners. A number of offers were made for me,

but the light-yellow-shirted overseers refused all of them in some way

that left the customers resigned rather than angry. Right then it

wouldn't have bothered me a bit to be sold; it would have gotten me off

that platform and given me a chance to unlock all those chains on me. I

was stiff and tired and uncomfortable and in need, but without those

chains I would have been heading south, over obstacles if necessary. I

wanted out of there so badly I could feel the tendency toward

irrationality growing inside me, a tendency that could get me hurt or

killed if I stuck around long enough for it to grow stronger.

I closed my eyes for a minute or two during that lull, and when I

opened them again the shock Bellna felt was so great that I was nearly

knocked out of control. The newest arrival, standing just inside the

entrance and looking casually around, was Fallan, someone I'd been

hoping I'd never see again. He wore the same black pants and boots,

swordbelt and sword at his side, but his shirt was no longer mercenary

red. His profession was disguised behind a shirt of dark green with no

neck scarf, and after he'd had his casual look around, he ambled over

to my platform and stopped in front of the girl to my left, the one I

could see.

"You are indeed a lovely slave, girl," he said to her, clearly enjoying

the sight of her long black hair and nicely rounded figure. "Are you

well trained?"

"I am trained to give a master pleasure beyond any he has dreamed of,

master," she answered in a low, throaty, throbbing voice, moving her

body for him. "Should master choose to try me, he will not find himself

disappointed. I have not yet been used this afternoon, master. A slave

begs to be used!"

She moved her body again as far as she could, showing with words and

motion how badly in need she was. I'd heard clinking noises behind me a

few times during the hours I'd been there, as though the girls I

couldn't see were being taken from the platform and then put back in

place, but I hadn't known what was happening to them. If I understood

the black-haired girl correctly, the main platform girls were available

for being rented out. Discovering that led me to wonder if they were

for sale at any but a ridiculously high price. Few men would have been

able to afford to own a really beautiful, high-priced slave, but using

one now and then shouldn't have been beyond them. The girls would bring

the slavers more money that way than through any sale price, unless the

buyer was really wealthy, influential, and a very good customer.

Exceptions would be made for that sort, but not for anyone else. It

finally came through to me that the offers made for me hadn't been

offers to buy, and I wondered why the ones making the offers had been

turned down. The others on the platform were certainly available, and

Fallan smiled indulgently at the dark-haired girl's begging request. "I may, perhaps, choose you for use," he allowed, looking her over one

last time. "However, I must first see what else there is being offered

here."

He patted her round, bare bottom, then left her to come over to me. His

eyes worked their way up from my body to my face, and then he showed a

vast, entirely phony surprise.

"Why, you are a mere child, slave," he said, dark eyebrows high. "I do

not recall ever having seen a child on this platform. Are you, too,

trained to give a master delight and pleasure?"

"I am entirely untrained," I told him in a low, growly voice I couldn't

control, annoyed almost beyond bearing. Bellna was mewling and

fluttering around in my head, desperate to serve him and feel his hands

on her body, but she had no body. The body was mine, and Fallan had

already touched it more than I cared for.

"As I am such a child," I continued, "you may dismiss the thought of me

completely, and find another to see to your needs. I, in any event,

have no interest in one such as you.

I didn't know what Fallan had in mind by showing up there, but his

invaluable help had already screwed things up for me and I didn't want

any more of it. I was hoping he'd take the hint and get out of my life,

but instead he got annoyed.

"So you have no interest in one such as I, eh, child?" he asked in the

same low voice that I had used, even more of a growl in it. "You seem

rather high and mighty for a slave, and badly trained indeed. Have you

not been given punishment for failing to please?"

My body blazed hot at his words and heavy need flashed through me,

reactions triggered by his obvious disapproval. I'd been conditioned to

react like that by what I'd gone through, and Bellna's added reactions

made mine impossibly worse. I was being forced into wanting to please

him, and a grin touched his ugly face when he saw me squirm.

"So you have been trained to some extent," he murmured, reaching a hand

out to touch his palm to one of my hardened nipples. "Have they used

you harshly?"

"I have not been used at all," I gasped, really suffering from that

single, casual touch. "Do not touch me so! Do not..."

"You have not been used at all, and that is both punishment and

training," he said, a musing tone to his voice as he looked down into

my eyes. "Have you acknowledged yourself a slave as yet, or addressed

those about you as master?"

"No," I whispered, feeling my control losing its grip against Bellna's

frenzied attack for the upper hand. She had Fallan there, and she

wanted him so badly that I couldn't fight hard enough against her.

"I have come just barely in time, then," the mercenary captain said,

his voice still in the low murmur he had been using. "I will free you

as soon as I may, yet till then must you behave properly and become an

obedient slave. You must address the free men about you as master, and

refer to yourself as a slave, else shall they punish you terribly

before I am able to take you to safety. Do you understand what I say?"

My head was whirling so fast I barely knew where I was, but one thing I

did know was that Fallan was wrong as usual. I could see that the

slavers had been trying to make me acknowledge myself a slave without

forcing me to do it: if and when I did, I would be one step farther

along the road they had me headed up. But doing that would take me even

closer to that room with the furs and the beating that preceded it, and

that was a way I didn't want to go.

"I am not a slave-and shall not - call myself one," I got out, using

the last of my strength. "I am-I am-" "You are a spoiled, disobedient child!" he growled, his dark eyes

blazing with an anger that kindled Bellna even more. A foolish,

thoughtless wench who has not the wit to know that stubbornness at the

wrong time may cost her life! You think to refuse to obey me; I shall

prove that you may not."

Both of his hands touched my body then, the hands of a man used to

touching women and used to enjoying what he touched. I tried to hold

back the moan, but it slipped from my throat as he moved even closer.

"I see you have been punished for taking liberties," he said, then

chuckled as I gasped at the way he touched the device. "I wonder if you

have as yet had it used properly upon you."

His words came to me as if they were being filtered through a long

tube, telling me Bellna had grabbed most of the control she wanted. My

lips parted, ready to speak words I didn't want spoken, but this time

the timing went wrong for her. As Fallan's left hand toyed behind me

his right hand moved in front, reaching me as I strained away from the

device. His touch was more gentle than anything I'd had from the

slavers, but it forced me back against the device in his left hand with

something like an electric shock. Again I strained forward and again I

was forced back, and my mouth hung open like that of an idiot, empty of

any and all words of sense. The back and forth motion was immediately

overwhelming and Bellna, in control of my body, was completely caught

up in it.

"You have said you are not a slave," Fallan murmured slowly increasing

the speed of the motion he forced on me. "I believe you are a slave,

and I would hear the words from you. Tell me you are a slave."

"I am-a slave," I whispered, eager to say any words he wished of me.

"Louder," Fallan commanded, so near that the heat of his body was

evident above my own.

"I am a slave!" I shouted, lost to the touch of his hands. "I am a

slave who is your slave! I am your slave!"

"Excellent, slave," he chuckled, again forcing a more frenzied movement

upon me. "And how do you address the man whose slave you are?"

"Master!" I screamed, knowing release would be withheld from me till I

acknowledged him so. "I am your slave, master! I am yours, master!"

"How obedient and pleasing a slave you are," my master chuckled, the

movement of his hands never ceasing. "Now you may dance for me, slave,

till your soul cries out the same."

My body flew back and forth in perfect obedience to his demands, and

although I wished to scream, I no longer had the breath for it. I

panted harder and harder, feeling as though my lungs would burst, and

then release was mine, the likes of which I had never before felt.

Again and again my body spasmed, obeying the continuing demands of my

master, and when it was done I hung upon the bar, my chains enfolded,

mind-less from the experience.

And I was able to take over again, but not completely. I'd closed my

mental eyes the way Bellna had closed my physical ones, but it was

still my body that had been put through all that. I think I was still

in shock over what Fallan had done-damn, but that man knew his way

around a woman's body! I shuddered as I tried to stop my heart from

racing around so fast, wishing I could lie stretched out flat and dead

somewhere instead of hanging by my wrists, and the sound of approaching

footsteps caught my attention.

"My congratulations, sir," came a voice I recognized as belonging to

the man in light yellow who had directed the training I'd been put

through. "You have helped this slave to know herself, and have taken

her a good deal closer to the goal she desires-and that we desire for her."

"I am fond of pretty little slaves," Fallan answered, a dryness to his

tone. "How much for this one?"

"Alas, but she has already been sold," light-shirt said, professionally

commiserating. "A high noble has reserved her for himself, at a price

we lesser mortals cannot even approach. She is here for training

purposes only, and yet-her training has progressed well in your hands.

Should you wish her use you may have it-if you are willing to curtail

that use in accordance with her level of training. That she may not be

fully used should not interfere too greatly with your pleasure-there

are always alternate methods."

"I dislike being limited in my use of a slave," Fallan answered,

sounding bored with the whole thing. "I believe I have had enough of

this slave. What of that black-haired one?"

"That one you may enjoy as you wish," light-shirt said, professional

friendliness now heavy in his voice. "The use rooms are to your left,

and you may also see to the fees there. I wish you a pleasant time."

There were sounds of movement all around me, bringing Bellna partway

out of her stupor with whimpering protests, but this time she didn't

have a chance of taking over and wouldn't have been able to change the

situation even if she had. I opened my eyes to see the black-haired

girl being released from the bar and the ankle chain restraint, her

whole body quivering with anticipation. I didn't have the strength to

quiver with anticipation, even when light-shirt began unlocking my own

chains. When my wrists were released from the bar I sprawled face down

in the furs of the platform, and light-shirt chuckled and parted my

bottom.

"You have come a far distance this day, little slave," he said, working

on whatever held my ankles in place. "You have earned a time of rest

before your lessons continue. You may thank me."

"Thank you master," I whispered silently cursing the now disappearing

Fallan for having put me in a position where I had to say that. I

didn't know what would happen next, but my mouth was dry and swallowing

was difficult.

Light-shirt closed the cuff around my right wrist again, locked the

chain under the two rings at my waist, then stepped back. My goldenshirt,

whom I hadn't seen, was behind him, and he was the one who

lifted me off the platform. I felt completely surrounded and outnumbered,

which had to be the way I was supposed to feel-according to

my training program. My golden-shirt steadied me on my feet, pulled my

wrist-chain out the way he had earlier, then led me out of the tent.

We moved through the late afternoon sunshine at a slower pace than we

had on the way there, and although I knew there had to be a specific

reason for it, I didn't care. The cooling air was like a breath of

fresh air after the closeness of the tent, and I wished I had the

strength to appreciate it. I stumbled along in my chains after my

golden-shirt, feeling my mind uncurl and spread out to the openness

above. It's almost dark, I thought, relishing the words. Just a little

while longer, and then you can go. I looked at the crowds of men we

moved through, feeling their eyes on me as a physical thing, and knew I

had to get out of there soon. If I were ever trapped in that place

permanently, my life span could be measured in minutes. Slavers don't

like victims who refuse to be good, obedient slaves, and usually don't

waste much time on them.

I was taken back to the tent I had originally come from, but the room

was somewhat different from the others I had seen. It was small and

dim, covered completely with thick luxurious fur, and held a couple of odd-shaped somethings made of wood and fur that I didn't like the looks

of. There was also a small table holding a familiar bowl, but I wasn't

given a chance to get more than a single glance at it.

"Kneel," my golden-shirt said as soon as we were inside, and his slave

obeyed him immediately. The fur felt strange to my bare legs even after

the fur I'd been kneeling on on the platform, but I didn't have time to

think about that, either. The golden-shirt pulled his boots off, got

out of his clothes, then made himself comfortable on the fur.

"Crawl to me, slave;" he ordered, and when I reached him he leaned up

on one elbow and took my face in his hand. "You are incredibly

fortunate in that you have already declared yourself slave," he said,

looking down into my eyes. "Had you not, this next lesson would have

been a good deal more painful for you. Are you prepared for your next

lesson?"

"I was told I might have a time of rest," I whispered, shaken by what

he had said. So Fallan had been right after all-and the dance he'd put

me through had saved me from something that would have been a lot

worse.

"You have already had your time of rest," golden-shirt answered, still

holding my face. "Our return here was leisurely, and you were to have

rested then." Suddenly his hand released my face, and I was slapped

hard enough to bring tears to my eyes. "You must also learn that you

are never to question a master. You were asked, slave: are you prepared

for your next lesson?"

"Yes, master!" I gasped out at once, trembling and letting the tears

roll down my cheeks-and making sure my hands didn't curl into fists. "I

am prepared, master!"

"Excellent," he said, leaning back from me somewhat. "Go and fetch your

bowl, for it is time that you be fed."

"Yes, master," I sniffled, then crawled after the bowl standing on the

small wooden table. The bowl held the same soup-soaked bread I'd been

fed earlier in the day, and when I brought it back I was put to my

belly again before it was fed to me. I'd said I was ready for the next

lesson, but the only thing I was really ready for was about twelve

hours of uninterrupted sleep. I felt as close to the end of the line as

I'd ever been, and that had to be why the lessons were continuing.

Conditioning works best on an undefended mind, and it's hard to defend

your inner self when your eyes are closing in exhaustion. I was so

tired I could even feel myself reacting to the nearness of a naked male

body, and that despite the release I'd so recently had. By the time my

"meal" was done and I had licked golden-shirt's fingers clean, I was

almost to the point of squirming.

"And now that you are fed, we may continue," golden-shirt said, tossing

away the empty bowl. "Tell me what you are, slave."

"I am a slave, master," I whispered, making sure I didn't meet his

eyes. "I am your slave."

"You are the slave of any free man who commands you," golden-shirt

corrected. "Raise yourself to kneeling beside me, slave."

"Yes, master," I acknowledged, pulling myself to my knees with some

difficulty. The device gave me its usual trouble, and golden-shirt

chuckled.

"You appear to be in discomfort, slave," he said, reaching around to

touch me. "Do you wish this removed?"

"Yes, master," I gasped, finding it impossible to hold still against

his toying fingers.

"Then you have my permission to beg me to remove it," he said, laying

himself farther back in the furs. "And, as the potion which turned me uninterested has for the most part worn off, you may also, at the same

time, serve me."

I gasped at the flaring of heat all through me at the key word, finding

it considerably worse than it had been. I was too tired to fight the

conditioning, and Bellna was no help at all. She lay cowering in her

corner of my mind, sick with fear over the thought of serving the man

who had done so much to me that day. She was triggered into wanting to

please him, but she was so afraid of him that she was frozen in place.

It was all up to me again, and I had absolutely no choice.

"Oh, master, please remove the device," I wheedled, remembering the

advice of the woman who had washed me. At the same time I put my hands

on his body, and began gently kissing him all over. There was dark hair

all over him, his body mostly hard but beginning to turn soft from easy

living. I worked my way up to his throat with kisses, then licked my

way slowly back down, all the while wheedling and pleading and begging

in true slave style. His interest was only beginning to stir, and I

found that I had no choice at all about encouraging it. I wanted to

encourage his interest, and when his hands came to me, I bad to. I did

to him what I'd been taught to do, and I could no longer remember when

I'd been taught it or by whom. When he moaned and twisted under my

hands and lips the faintly disturbing thought came that I might have

gone too far, but I was in no condition to worry about it. It might

have been something to worry about if golden-shirt had still been in

the grip of that potion and watching, but as the victim of my

ministrations, he was in no condition to be cooly observant.

"Stop, s-stop," he said at last, pulling me away from him by the hair.

"You have-learned your lessons-well, slave, and I am-no longer able to

bear it. Tell me again what you would have me do."

"Master, I beg you to remove the device," I panted, breathing almost as

hard as my victim. I reached my hands out to touch him, but the

distance he held me away from him by the hair was too far for the chain

linking my wrists. "Also do I beg for use, master. Please, master,

please!"

The words I blurted out were a shock to me, but golden-shirt must have

been expecting them. He laughed softly in satisfaction, then shook his

head.

"The use you beg for you may not have," he said, reaching a hand out to

tickle a moan out of me. "You have not yet earned the ultimate

satisfaction, and will not till you have pleased the master you are

meant for. There is another means by which you may give satisfaction,

however, and it is for this reason that I am here. Now that your

lessons have prepared me, we are able to continue on to it."

He let go of my hair and reached down to untie the front leather strip

of the device, then had me put my forehead to the floor while he untied

the back strip. The removal of the device itself was unbelievable

relief, but that only solved half my problem. I still needed what that

man was nicely prepared to give me, and I was seriously considering

raping him when his hand came hack to my hair and pulled me painfully

to my feet. I mewled in protest, just about all I was capable of in the

way of protest just then, but I was still dragged to one of those wood

and fur contraptions and pushed face down across it. Before I could

blink away the sleepiness clouding my thinking and stressing how much

in need I was, my wrists had been pushed through holes to either side

of the thing I lay on and clamped tight in place. Then wheels were

turned on the thing, and I lay head down and bottom up.

"This device will hold you as I wish you to be," golden-shirt said as

he fiddled with something between my legs. "Tomorrow, after your lessons, I will return for the same, and will then expect to have no

need of the device. Should I find a need for it, you will not be

released from it before you have been beaten. Am I mistaken in

believing that you will be pleasing?"

"I will be pleasing, master," I babbled, feeling a desperate need to be

pleasing. "I beg you to use me, master! Please, master, please!"

"I mean to use you, little slave," he chuckled, moving around the room

somewhere behind me. "Not in the manner you beg for, yet will you be

used. I must, however, first prepare myself a bit further."

I knew that what he said should have made me suspicious, but I couldn't

think clearly. A good part of the begging and groveling I'd done had

been because of Bellna, but some of it was caused by the conditioning I

couldn't seem to hold off. I was so tired, and so much in need, and my

body quivered at the thought that he was going to take care of me.

"I am now prepared for you," he said from directly behind me, snapping

me out of a half-doze and making my body burn even more. Groggily I

tried raising myself to receive him then was roused to the point of

lifting my head.

"No, master, no!" I whimpered, feebly trying to escape, but there was

no escape. His manhood was taking the place of the device, and he'd

greased himself for the purpose. I tried pulling away from the

penetration that was beginning to excite me terribly, knowing it wasn't

what I really wanted and wouldn't satisfy me nearly as well, but I

struck something scratchy and irritating on the device that made me

jerk back I immediately cried out, simultaneously with his grunt of

satisfaction; I'd lost and he had won.

I'd begged for use, but not the kind of use I was given. I couldn't

think clearly, but bodily sensations came through clear as the chime of

perfect crystal. I was battered at over and over again, forced against

the scratchy, irritating part of the device until I began using it to

satisfy the screams of my body, accepting the pain in my desperate need

for release. Eventually I found the release, just before golden-shirt

found his own, and I was limp when he unlocked me from the device and

dumped me on the floor.

"The potion given you in your food has done well," he said, looking

down at me where I lay curled up on the furs. "It will now make you

sleep till the time comes for your lessons to continue. Sleep well,

little slave, for the next lessons bring learning in earnest."

No, I thought as I blurrily watched him walk to his clothes. I can't

sleep and wake up still here, still chained as a slave. I can't. I

can't.

But my eyes were closing even then, proving that I sure as hell could.

Chapter 6

I awoke with a start, my heart racing and my mouth dry. I jerked my

head up and looked around the dim, fur-decorated room without

recognizing it, not knowing where I was or what was happening. I

started to get to my feet but the tinkle of chain caught my attentionand

then the memory of everything that had happened came flooding back.

I sank back down on the floor, took a deep breath, then lowered my head

to my hands. My system was still twanging from the emergency wake-up

I'd gone through, but being awake was more than worth it. There are a

lot of drugs that have little or no effect on me, but of the ones that

do, some are able to trigger emergency wake-up. The light opiate sort,

mild sleeping draughts and the like, begin to break down in the body

rather quickly. As soon as that breaking down starts, my nervous system triggers the release of adrenalin, which gets me up and moving even

sooner than my usual fast snapback. It's a rubbing-bare-nerves-with-afile

kind of feeling to go through, but I'll take that any day as

opposed to staying cozily asleep.

I took another deep breath then raised my head, still feeling the urge

to stretch out and close my eyes, but not about to give in to it. I

moved over to the device I'd been used on, keeping the chain-tinkling

to a minimum, then began poking around the underside of the thing. I

needed something to use as a lock pick, and I was hoping that that

device wasn't as neat and clean-lined underneath as it was above. The

Lord of Luck must have come back from the lunch break he'd been on so

long; the underside of the device had all sorts of thin protrusions of

metal, undoubtedly the Narellan equivalent of nails. I chose one, got a

good grip on it, then started working it back and forth.

Cursing under my breath did no good whatsoever; the damned thing took

its own sweet time breaking free, and time was the biggest unknown I

had to work with right then. By the time I had the piece of metal in my

hand I was sweating, and I went to work with it without wasting another

minute. I tossed my head to get the hair out of my face and eyes then

began probing the lock on my right wrist, trying to figure out how a

key worked on it. The locking mechanism wasn't only primitive it was

alien, and if you think all locks work on the same principle, then

you've never opened one with anything but a key or a palm.

As I probed the lock I couldn't count the minutes ticking past without

screwing up, but it took all the control I have to keep myself patient

and attentive. I knew the slavers weren't going to let their red-haired

slave sleep until she was all rested, but I didn't know how long they

would give her. Conditioning works best on an exhausted mind, but a

little too much push and the mind breaks, leaving you with nothing to

show for your efforts but an empty husk. I was sure they had enough

experience with twisting little girls to know how long to give it, but

I didn't know how long to give it. It was surely night outside, but

that wasn't likely to mean anything to the slavers' plans, especially

with the way they were training me. I'd had to accept pain in order to

get release again, and the thought of continuing on further with that

put a trem6r in my hands that I couldn't quite ignore. If I didn't get

out of there soon, I'd be bouncing off the walls.

When the break came, I almost missed it. You can't hear the twang of a

release catch in a lock mechanism, but with enough practice you can

feel it. If I hadn't been working left-handed I would have felt the

twang sooner, but having my right hand free first would speed things up

more after the first cuff was open than working left-handed slowed them

down before that. I caught the twang, lost it, then found it again and

held it-and the cuff flipped open at my pull. Only then did I remember

that light-shirt had used his key to lock me up again as well as

release me, which meant that the mechanism was a variety of dead-bolt.

Things might have gone faster if I'd remembered that sooner, but there

was no sense in beating my breast over it. There were still the other

locks to take care of.

Both ankle cuffs went first, and only then did I do the left wrist

cuff. After that the only thing left was the chain around my waist, and

when I dumped the whole rig in a heap I unknotted the thin piece of

leather as well and flung it away from me as hard as I could. The

feeling of freedom was like laughter bubbling up inside me, making me

want to shout and jump around; instead of shouting or jumping I bent

and retrieved the lock pick I'd dropped, then spent a minute or two

tying it into my hair where it wouldn't be seen. I would keep it until I was off that planet, and maybe even longer. A good lock pick is hard

to find, a lucky one even harder.

A quick look around the tent room showed me nothing I could use, not

even a piece of cloth for clothing. Aside from the cool of the night

the thought of walking around bare didn't bother me, but it would make

me somewhat conspicuous. I'd intended going after one of those guards

for his sword, but now it looked like I'd need his clothes, too. It

would take more time than I really wanted to spend, but there was no

help for it. I couldn't run around the woods of Narella bare, not when

there was no telling when that scout ship would pick me -

"What haye you done, slave?" came the demanding voice from behind me,

causing me to turn my head in that direction. My golden-shirt stood

there, something that looked like a thin, rattan cane in his hand, a

frown of disbelief on his face. Bellna shivered in fear in the corner

she crouched in, but all I did was smile faintly. I'd done a stupid

thing not leaving that room as soon as the chains were off, but I knew

I'd done it deliberately. I'd been hoping to run into my golden-shirt

again-and now I had.

"You mistake me, man," I said as I stepped farther into the center of

the room. "I am no slave, and therefore did as I wished to do."

"You believe you are no longer a slave due to someone's having taken

the chains from you?" he asked, that superior amusement clear on his

face. "The absence of chains does not make one free. Kneel!"

The snap of command in his voice made Bellna blubbet in my head and try

to obey, but I was riding a high too far above her to feel the same

myself. Revenge is usually a pastime for the immature, but that slob

had done more than just put his hands on me. You have to be a damned

fool or suicidal to treat a Special Agent the way he had treated me,

and I was in no mood to be forgiving or generous.

"You are correct in believing that the absence of chains does not make

one free," I agreed, enjoying the frown he'd grown when I didn't fall

quivering to my knees. "I am prepared to leave this place now, and will

give you the opportunity to step out of my way."

"Will you indeed," he said, the superiority back again. "How very

thoughtful of a slave to give her master such an opportunity. The

master, however, does not choose to accept the generosity of his slave.

He will, instead, choose to give his slave a sounder whipping than she

was to have received. The choice is ever the master's, a thing you will

now learn beyond all doubt."

He took a firmer grip on the cane he held and started toward me, his

arm half raised and ready to strike. He took his time coming forward,

giving me the chance to understand just how bad a mistake I'd made

before getting on with the beating. There was faint disturbance in his

eyes over the fact that I just stood there waiting for him, but I doubt

whether he was capable of understanding that I didn't intend allowing

myself to be beaten. Being very used to dealing with slaves is more

dangerous than slavers seem to realize; it makes prime victims of them

if they happen to tangle with a non-slave.

The golden-shirt reached me and raised his arm higher, then brought the

cane whistling down toward my bare body. It would have struck my

shoulder if I'd stayed where I was, but I stepped forward instead and

brought up a left-handed block against his forearm. Most people think

of blocks as being strictly defensive maneuvers - that is, if they've

never had one used on them. The force of the block knocked the cane out

of my opponent's hand; as it hit I was already going to one knee and

launching a right from belt level directly into his groin, then moving

fast to get out of the way. It wasn't retaliation I was expecting but reaction, and that came so fast it might have been programmed. The

blood left golden shirt's face, and even as he began folding up he was

already vomiting, spasming out the terrible pain he felt. I

straightened up beside him, stiffened my right hand, then clipped him

good at the base of the skull, sending him sprawling into the pool of

vomit he'd made. I took a split second to consider whether or not to

finish him permanently, then turned away and headed for the room exit

when I decided against it. It would be a long time before the man was

able to function again, not to mention chasing after me. If I wasn't

gone out of there before then, his being up and around would not make

the difference.

I slid out into the empty corridor between rooms and moved without

sound, checking each room before I passed it. Muffled sounds came from

a room down at the far end, but aside from that everything was quiet. A

couple of the rooms held sleeping female forms, but the rest were

empty. I became aware of Bellna as I moved down the corridor, and I had

to chuckle softly. The intruder in my mind was still in shock, trying

to figure out what had happened. She had been so terribly afraid of the

golden-shirt that she would have done anything to appease him, but

three simple blows had taken him out of the picture more effectively

than Fallan's fistfight had done with the house guard at the inn. She

knew nothing about self defense and offense, considering the entire

area reserved to those with big, bulging muscles or superior weapons.

She couldn't get over the fact that she had done something like that,

and so simply. She was beginning to think of that store of extra

knowledge as magic, the store she couldn't always reach; I thought

about all the hard work I'd put in acquiring it, but chuckled anyway.

It was magic to someone who didn't know about it, and the hard work

part of it just didn't enter into it.

When I reached the end of the corridor, I found that the muffled sounds

were screams that were coming from the room opposite the one that led

out of that section of tents. The room out was dim and deserted, and no

one would have seen me go that way; all I had to do was step into the

room and cross it, then melt into the darkness outside. There had to be

armed guards moving around out there, and jumping one from behind would

be a piece of cake. I didn't know what was causing those muffled

screams across the way, and in any event it was none of my business.

Getting out of there was my business, that and dressing and arming

myself, and heading off south into the woods. I took a step into the

room, and then a second and then turned and ghosted fast across the

corridor.

From right outside the flap separating the corridor from the room I

could hear sounds other than the muffled screaming; grunting and heavy

breathing came through, as well as a faint creaking. I moved the flap

over a very little bit and slipped inside, but I could have made

considerably more noise and still wouldn't have been noticed. A female

slave with scraps of green on her was chained to a wooden contraption

that bent her backward and spread her wide, an open invitation without

need of a sign. A thick length of yellow cloth blindfolded her, and a

fat wad of yellow cloth was stuffed in her mouth, gagging her

effectively yet allowing those muffled screams to escape. The darkgoldshirted

guard stood with his sword on the floor beside him and his

pants down around his knees, bracing himself with one hand on the

wooden frame while he thrust down at the chained woman with his body,

ramming her deep and increasing the sound of her muffled screams. His

other hand was closed painfully tight on one of her breasts, and as I

dropped the door flap he grunted one last time with attained release. "You provided a barely adequate ride, slave," he muttered, resting a

minute against the woman's body. "It matters not how many were before

me; the ride should have been fully satisfying. Though you were placed

here due to your lacks in pleasing your masters, you have apparently

learned nothing. It seems I must recommend that you be kept here

another day, so that the lesson might be effective. Your pain is of no

consequence whatsoever; your master's pleasure is all. As I have

received little pleasure, you will also be beaten. Though there is

little likelihood of your attaining perfection, the beating will assist

you in approaching it more closely."

The guard withdrew from the woman then, not giving a damn that she was

now crying behind her blindfold and gag. He turned half away from her

and reached down for his pants, saw me standing there, and straightened

with a frown.

"What do you do in here, slave?" he demanded, then narrowed his eyes.

"Who has removed the chains from you without ordering you to remain

where you were? Or for what reason have they ordered you here?"

He really didn't understand what was going on, and the provocative

smile I gave him didn't help any. I began moving toward him in a slow,

deliberately sexy way, my hips swinging and my breasts thrust out, and

the confusion on his face suddenly became a leer.

"You have been sent to give me a proper ride!" he said in a pouncing

tone, sure he'd solved the mystery. "I know not which of my brothers

sees so carefully to my needs, yet I shall learn his identity from you

and give him proper thanks. You will first reawaken me, and then will I

make full use of you. The gods themselves would condemn me, were I to

do less."

From the way his eyes moved over me, I was surprised he wasn't standing

in slobber clear up to his neck. Bellna felt a sharp stab of desire

when he used the words "full use," and her passing it on to me nearly

threw my timing off. I'd been waiting for him to bend toward his pants

again, if only in order to get them out of the way so he could close

the gap between us faster, but he started to bend while my muscles were

still tightening in protest. It was pure luck that he kept his head up

to watch me as he bent, and I couldn't afford to throw that luck away.

Despite the throbbing in my loins I forced myself to run three steps

and then jump- kick for power, the ball of my right foot striking the

son just under his chin. His head snapped back even harder than his

body did, the crack coming before he slammed into the wooden

contraption the woman was chained to. He bounced off, fell to the

floor, then lay there in a very still, angular way.

I moved up to him fast and bent to check for a pulse, but that was just

part of my habit of always making sure. I knew I'd broken his neck with

the kick, and he hadn't survived as a fluke in spite of it. The woman

on the frame was stirring in her chains and making babbling noises

around her gag, but I'd done all I could for her. The guard would never

make another sadistic recommendation, and leaving her chained up would

guarantee that she would not be blamed for his death. If freeing her

had meant that she would escape to freedom I would have taken the time

to unchain her, but despite all wishful thinking it would have meant

nothing of the kind. She wouldn't have been able to get herself away

and I couldn't take her with me, but all the same I kept my eyes away

from her as I worked the dead guard free of his clothes.

I kept expecting to be interrupted, but I got the shirt and pants on

and buckled on the swordbelt, and no one came in. The clothes fit as

well as a man's clothes will fit on a woman just about his size, but

the boots had proved impossible. They were much too big to be of use, and would have been more of a hazard than going bare-foot would be. I

resettled the swordbelt around my hips, took one last glance around the

room, and then walked out. Usual good-byes are fatuous; in that

instance they would have been insane.

The corridor and exit room were still both empty, but I didn't

understand why until I'd moved through the dark toward the main

exhibition tent. The noise coming from that tent and two others of a

similar size near it was incredible in the midst of the forest quiet,

speaking of crowds much larger than those that had been present while I

was on a platform. I still made sure to move silently through the

chilly darkness, staying out of the wide pools of light thrown by the

big, flickering torches set all around the three main tents. Armed

guards moved around and through the streams of people going in and out

of the tents, watching, directing, and generally being very visible.

The slavers had a booming business going, larger than one princedom

could account for. It was a safe bet that people were coming from all

over, making however long a trip was necessary to check out what was

being offered. As I stood behind a tree watching, one round-bellied man

with three burly assistants took possession of a group of eight slave

females and two slave males, his brusque, businesslike manner showing

that he was probably replenishing his own stock. The retailer buying

from the wholesaler, so to speak, calculating his future profit even as

his merchandise was growled and prodded into motion. When I discovered

that my left hand gripped so tightly the hilt of the sword I wore that

my fingernails were digging into my palm, I knew it was time to get

moving-before I did something stupid. You can't change a world all by

yourself, no matter how much you'd like to give it a whirl.

I faded back from the tree and moved around some tall bushes, heading

toward the outlying tents of the widespread camp, trying to be careful

of where I stepped. Small twigs and branches had already gotten me a

couple of times, making me decide to keep alert for any vair that might

have been left standing around. Traveling by vair-back would be faster

and easier than going on foot, especially on bare foot. Being free and

on the move felt good, despite the direction the Bellna presence's

thoughts had taken. The first sight of the display tent had brought

back memory of Fallan to her, and the little girl in my head was trying

to decide how she felt about him. It wasn't that she no longer had the

raging hots for him; what he'd done to me in the display tent had, if

anything, intensified her feelings. What bothered her was the fact that

Fallan had chosen the black-haired girl instead of me to use, the idea

sending jealous, flaring anger through my head. She chewed at the

thought for a couple of minutes, spoiled-brat resentment boiling

around, and then she remembered that light-shirt hadn't let Fallan use

me. The interpretation wasn't strictly true, but Bellna wasn't looking

for truth, only a reason to forgive Fallan. When she found one she

began humming happily to herself, more than ready to fantasize about

what it would have been like with Fallan if light-shirt hadn't

interfered. I ignored the fantasizing and paid attention to where I was

going, looking for something speedier to ride than the dashing Captain

Fallan.

There were considerably fewer people around the outskirts of the camp,

but most of them were guards and armed. The breeze tossed the flames of

their torches around, but the illuminati6n did nothing to pinpoint the

guards without torches of their own. I could see their darker shadows

moving around and looking as though they were keeping a sharp eye open,

but I couldn't tell how many of them there were. I'd have to get

through their line without alerting the whole pack of them, which would have been easier if I'd had a few more hours of sleep behind me. I

wasn't quite at the stumbling stage yet, but if I'd been fresher I

could have taken a string of vair through their line, not just the one

I was thinking about.

Three vair stood tied in front of a small, dark-colored tent, all

saddled and probably fresh enough to keep going most of the night. I

hadn't tried for one of them yet even though I'd been close enough to

make the try for a couple of minutes; those vair looked too handy, and

I was wondering if they were there to attract any slave who managed to

break loose. Walking into a trap isn't smart unless you know you can

spring it without getting your foot caught, and something about the

vair just didn't seem right. I stirred impatiently where I crouched

behind some bushes, knowing it would be stupid not to take the time to

figure out exactly what was wrong, but also knowing that I didn't have

the time to spend on something like that. I either had to try for the

vair or go through the line on foot, but whichever I did, it would have

to be done fast.

I had just about decided to try for the vair anyway when I suddenly

realized that the perimeter was under attack. Without undue noise a

large group of men were suddenly appearing beside and behind the

guards, and I wasn't the only one slow on the uptake. The newcomers had

been so casual about their approach that the guards didn't know they

were being attacked until the bodies started hitting the ground. It

would have been nice if it could have kept on until all the guards were

done, but professionals don't stay frozen in shock very long. Someone

yelled, swords scraped hastily from scabbards, emergency torches

flared, and the fight was on.

I watched swords swinging back and forth for a minute, then rose slowly

to my feet behind the bush I'd crouched near. The added torchlight

showed that the attackers were wearing bright red shirts and light-blue

neck scarves, and once I'd seen that, picking Fallan out wasn't hard.

The idiot had brought his company to free the Princess Bellna, the

charge they were sworn to protect, not knowing their charge had already

managed to free herself. It was bad luck of the worst sort that they

had chosen to break in on the very spot I'd chosen to break out, but

that just proved I wasn't the only one to see the possibilities of the

place. I could have used the distraction to get clear without worrying

about anyone seeing me except for the fact that those men were there to

rescue me. If I simply walked away they would be throwing away their

lives to no purpose, especially when they tried plowing through the

center of the camp. I wanted to be out of there, damn it, but now I had

something else to do.

I unsheathed my sword and walked out of the shadows toward the fracas,

heading in the general direction of Fallan. Bellna was wild with the

thought of being near him again, but my mood was too foul for her to

have a chance at taking over. I would show Fallan I was free and then

take off, and lord help anyone who tried to get in my way that time.

Some idiot guardsman backed from a mercenary he and two of his friends

were trying to take out, glanced at me, then did a double-take. The

dark gold shirt I wore would have been enough to make him ignore me,

except that the added torchlight also showed him my long red hair and

bare feet. It took him only seconds to realize that I had to be an

escaping slave, and then he came at me as though I were completely

unarmed.

Slaver mentality being what it is, I didn't bother warning my abrupt

opponent. If the weapon I carried didn't impress him, maybe what I did

with it would. As soon as he got close enough he swung his blade at mine with a good deal of muscle backing the swing, obviously intending

to disarm me before we went any farther. I flicked my blade up and then

down fast, missing the strike he'd planned but not missing his wrist.

He howled as the point of my sword released a thick line of blood just

above the back of his hand, but he wasn't bright enough to realize that

the wound he'd taken had just lost him the fight. He slashed hard in

the back swing, his flaring temper making him forget that he had set

out to disarm me, and it wasn't hard ringing his blade with nine and

helping the attack past me.

Anger brought three more fast attacks that I either slipped or blocked,

and then the guard became aware of how much pain he was in. We weren't

fencing with small, nearly weightless foils, we were using the doubleedged

and pointed Narellan blades that demand a strong wrist and arm.

The guard's arm was fine, but the nick I'd given his wrist not only

drained his strength, it also gave him considerable pain every time he

tried to move that brand around. His face was pale and sweat-covered in

the glaring, jumping torchlight, and he cast a quick glance toward the

center of the camp, but didn't see what he was hoping for. The clash of

blades and cursing of men was noisy enough under most circumstances,

but with the uproar being made by the customers in the main tents, it

wasn't likely that reinforcements would notice the attack soon enough

to come running with support. The guard's jaw tightened with grim

decision, his fist tightened on his hilt despite the pain, and he came

at me with a last, all-out attack that was the only hope he had.

Of course, the poor fool didn't stand a chance of reaching me. He had

the brawny build that slash-and-stab fighting requires, but I was

faster and had the benefit of a superior technique to back up that

speed. I dodged his first two attacks, parried his next three, then

beat his blade aside and buried mine in his middle.

In spite of everything he still looked stunned, and then he was sliding

to his knees, on his way to the ground. I pulled my blade free, swiped

it nearly clean on the back of his shirt, then continued on in the

direction I'd been going.

I had to fight three or four more times before I reached Fallan, the

last time more or less taking over someone else's fight. I turned from

spitting my own final opponent to see Ralnor, Fallan's lieutenant,

gawping at me with his mouth open and his point down. His incredulous

expression said he was sure he was dreaming but didn't know how to wake

up, and the guard with the bloody sword coming at him from behind just

about guaranteed he never would wake up again. I jumped past Ralnor,

parried the guard's strike and wiped him fast, then turned to the

shaken lieutenant.

"Only a fool allows himself to be distracted during battle,

Lieutenant," I purred, glancing away from him only long enough to wipe

my blade. "Has something disturbed you?"

"No more than the truth that we are all fools," Ralnor muttered, wiping

at his face with his free hand. "We come to rescue one who fights like

the goddess of death, and end being rescued by her for whom we came.

The situation is somewhat demoralizing, yet do I thank you for my

life."

"You are quite welcome, Lieutenant," I answered soberly, letting my

eyes continue to move all around.

"Ever have I considered the thought more commendable than the deed, and

the thought evinced by you and these others has earned my gratitude. I

shall not forget."

Ralnor opened his mouth to say something else, an oddly friendly

expression on his face, but the words never got said. The mighty Fallan, terror of brigands and slavers, finally got himself free long

enough to notice who was standing near him.

"What do you do here, in the midst of battle, girl?" he suddenly

demanded, shouldering Ralnor aside so that he could glare down at me

with his dripping sword in his hand. "Do you seek an end to your life?

Do you not know that these are men you raise weapon to? Take yourself

to a place behind me and remain there, else I shall. . ."

"Captain!" Ralnor screamed, and Fallan whirled around and brought his

sword up fast enough to keep his backbone from being separated. Three

guards had attacked at once, and Ralnor moved fast to draw away at

least one of the blades from his captain. I'd seen the three attackers

a few seconds before Ralnor had, but Fallan's lecture had convinced me

that I had no business interfering. After all, those were men, and I

was nothing but a little girl who needed to be protected from them. I

watched the fight for about five seconds, then I decided that my duty

was done and turned away and headed for those vair.

I had to stop for two brief encounters before I reached the vair, and

by that time I'd decided against them. The guards were taking a lot of

losses, but not one of them had tried for a vair to take him out of the

slaughter and away for help. There was also a dim light burning inside

the tent the vair stood in front of, but no one had come out even after

the battle had gotten into full swing. The whole set-up screamed trap,

and I'd rather be afoot and safely clear than mounted and in trouble. I

was more than willing to skirt the entire area, but pausing to help out

one of the mercenaries who faced two opponents put me right near the

tent, and when I stepped away from the now equalized fight, I suddenly

found myself in an unequal fight of my own. Two golden-shirts jumped

out of the tent with swords in their hands, their bulk blocking my path

around it.

"See the silly little slave," said one to the other, gesturing toward

me with his blade. "She takes the trappings of one slain in battle, and

foolishly thinks herself free and a warrior queen. Did I not say we

would be best off avoiding the battle, so that we might recapture the

object of this attack?"

"You did indeed say that very thing," agreed the second, showing a

grin. "And now that we have her, we must return her."

The last words spoken must have been a signal; the two came at me

together, swords swinging in the sort of silliness that most people

consider swashbuckling sword-play. If there had been only one of them

he would have been dead before he finished the swash, but with two

swinging away like that I needed more room; it's downright demeaning to

get killed by that sort of charge. I jumped back to give myself

counterattack room, not realizing the vair were that close and crashed

right into one of them. My back and shoulder hit the stirrup and pad

and I staggered, but even the sharp stab I felt in my shoulder didn't

make me go down. I tightened my grip on my hilt and started my

counterattack, silently thanking the Lord of Luck, but he'd left for

another lunch break and I hadn't even noticed. A leadenness flared into

being in my shoulder and spread like an oil fire all through me, and

the last thing I knew was dropping my sword and falling toward my two

erstwhile opponents.

Chapter 7

It took a long time to figure out I'd been drugged; understanding how

was completely beyond me. They never let me come all the way out of it,

so all I got was bits and snatches of reality all wrapped around with floating gray unconsciousness. The first bit after my almost-fight with

the golden-shirts was lying in the darkness, chained again and wearing

one of those slave shifts: I stirred as my body began fighting off the

effects of the drug, and then there was an arm around my shoulders. I

was raised up, and a metal cup was put to my lips I had enough time to

realize that the darkness came from the cloth around my eyes, and then

I was swallowing the sweet liquid being poured in my mouth. Two

swallows, three and then nothing. The next time I was aware of motion,

and three or four times after that as well, and then came a time when

the motion stopped. I was given no more than a single swallow of the

sweet liquid, and though my head whirled I didn't fall back into a

world of gray. I felt myseff being lifted down from something and

carried, and then transferred to another pair of arms.

"She is now the property of your master, came a voice I didn't know,

and hands fumbled at the cloth over my eyes, then pulled it away. "As

you see, she is the one contracted for."

The small stone room we stood in was dim compared to the bright dayglow

coming in through the still-open door. I tried to turn my head

away from the glow, but a big hand came to my face and turned it back

again.

"She is indeed the one," said a voice I might have heard once or twice

before. "Why does she seem so strange?"

"It is merely the travel potion given her," said the first voice. "She

is aware of that which occurs about her, yet is she beyond being upset

by it. The potion also raises her receptivity, there are few of our

clients who object to its use."

"Indeed?" said the second voice, and the hand left my face to move

under the slave shift. Waves of fire flashed through my body at the

brief probing touch, and I moaned and writhed in the arms that held me.

"Excellent!" the voice laughed. "Truly excellent! I must have some of

that potion."

"What is here is yours, Lord," said the first voice, oily with

satisfaction. "She must be given it each time she appears to be

rallying from the previous dose, else it will lose its effectiveness."

"Your instructions will be followed," the second voice said. "You may

now take your leave."

I heard a rattle and a very pleased, "Thank you, Lord!" but I was

already being carried away. The stone room had winding stone steps, and

I was carried up and up in a circle until we reached the top and a

door. The door was opened and I was carried inside, then through room

after room of 'beautiful furnishings and a vast display of wealth. A

small, distant voice inside my head was beginning to cry hysterically,

but nothing meant anything to me, nothing mattered. The only thing that

seemed to matter was the way the second voice had touched me; I wanted

more, a lot more, but whimpering and squirming weren't getting it for

me.

"Is this she, master?" a female voice asked, and I realized that we'd

come to a stop.

"Yes, this is she," said the second voice, still with us even though

I'd thought we'd left him behind somewhere. "The master means to visit

with her as soon as he may, therefore is she to be prepared against his

arrival."

"It appears her preparation has already been begun," said the female

voice. "See how she moves."

"She has been given a potion," said the second voice. "Should she do

well under this potion, the master may give it to any slave who does

not please him as she is. Are there slaves about who require such a potion?"

"No, master!" came a chorus of female answers, all sounding eager to

please.

"Very well, then," said the second voice. "See to this slave."

I was put down on something very soft, and it seemed as though a number

of presences left. I couldn't seem to focus on the faces of anyone

around me, and even the walls and furniture turned wavery when I tried

to concentrate on them. None of that bothered me, of course, only my

need to be seen to. My body moved of its own accord on whatever I lay

on, and I whimpered again.

"The slave child asks to be touched," came a sleek, superior-sounding

female voice. "I believe I will be the one to touch her."

"Now?" asked another, sounding a good deal younger. "The master may not

arrive for some time, and the child is already in need."

"When the master arrives, she will be screaming to please him," the

sleek-voice answered. "The master will be pleased, and it will have

been I who assured his pleasure. Take yourself elsewhere, slaves, and

seek in vain to please him as much as I will have done."

Sleek-voice laughed then, and after a minute I knew she had moved

nearer to me. I had no idea what would happen until she touched me, and

then I gasped and nearly choked.

"All slaves know that the master's touch is ever most welcome," sleekvoice

purred in my ear. "And yet it needs a woman to know best the

weaknesses of another woman. To be touched in this manner is more than

I am able to bear, slave child. How do you find it?"

If I'd been able to speak, I wouldn't have been able to speak; the

woman's logic was faultless. I spent a timeless time writhing and

trying to escape, helpless to help myself, and then a new voice

interrupted.

"What do you do here, slave?" the male voice demanded, a voice I seemed

to know. "For what reason do you concern yourself with the new slave?"

"Master, I am merely engaged in preparing her for' you," sleek-voice

answered, sounding a good deal less self-satisfied. "She will beg for

the least attention from you, the smallest glance, the briefest touch."

"This was not the reason for her purchase," the male voice answered,

sounding annoyed. "Those fools at the slave market tell me they are

unable to train her as I wish her trained, and have sent her sooner

than she was to have come. They gave no reason for such hasty delivery,

yet the reason is clear enough: they fear to face what for them would

be failure. I, myself, will not allow such failure." The voice paused

for a second and then said, "She seems unaware of my presence. What has

been done to her?"

"Master, she has been given a potion," sleek voice quavered, for some

reason more frightened than she had been. "We are to continue with the

potion, so that she will be...."

"Unaware of her true fate!" the male voice snapped, wild with rage. "My

enemies seek to take my victory from me, to turn its sweetness bitter!

How is she to be properly trained if she is unaware of my existence?

The potion is not to be given to her again, and I am to be informed

when its hold begins to loosen upon her. See to it, slave."

"Yes, master," sleek-voice whispered, and then I was alone in my

wavery, need-filled world. It seemed to take a very long while, but

slowly I began to be aware of the fur I lay on, the furniture and

decorations around me, and occasionally passing people, a lessening in

the need forced on me. I lay still with my eyes unfocused, resisting

the urge to take a deep breath, coaxing my mind into working again. The

thought that I'd been drugged came through for the second time, but now I thought I knew how it had been done. That sticking pain I'd felt in

my shoulder when I'd struck the vair's saddle; a needle set into the

stirrup pad could have done the work, and would have been in the

perfect position todown anyone foolish enough to climb into the saddle.

In order to put your foot into the stirrup you'd have to set your leg

against the pad, and that would be it as far as staying conscious went.

I'd been right in thinking there was a trap and in deciding against the

vair; I just should have stayed farther away from them.

My mind wandered for the next couple of minutes, and then it came back

to something the male voice had said. Those slavers hadn't told anyone

about what I'd done to their people, and they hadn't kept me for

further training. I had a funny feeling that it was the golden-shirt I

hadn't killed who had gotten me out of that training program. The dead

guard could have been killed by accident as far as anyone knew, but

there was no doubt about what had happened to the golden-shirt. The

slavers wanted nothing more to do with me, but they didn't have the

stomach to tell my present owner what I was really like. As paranoid as

he was, he'd be sure they were lying in some sort of attempt to trick

him out of what was his and then he'd take steps to get even. No, the

slavers couldn't tell their good patron Prince Clero the unlikely

truth, and if I had any luck at all, that omission would be my ticket

out of there.

Good old Prince Clero. My memory told me that it was his voice I'd

tagged as the male voice; I'd just been in no shape to identify it

sooner. He'd stopped his sleek-voice female slave from continuing to

torture me, but I knew damned well that he hadn't done it out of the

goodness of his heart. He had something special in mind for me and for

the Princess Bellna knowing approximately where the slavers' training

program had been going gave me some idea as to his bottom line

expectations. It wasn't a pleasant thought, especially when you added

in the hinting Dameron had done. The room I lay in was somewhat on the

warm side, but I still felt a shiver touch me.

"So you have come back to yourself at last," a female voice said from

behind me, the woman I thought of as sleek-voice. I'd been aware of

someone sitting behind me, and there was no sense in trying to pretend

I was still under. I still felt sluggish, but hoped the feeling would

pass quickly enough to keep from being a problem. I pushed myself into

sitting with a small amount of difficulty, then turned to look at the

woman.

"I am indeed recovered," I answered, making sure I sounded frightened

and uncertain, then spent a minute or two staring at the woman. She was

a very beautiful blonde with gray eyes she wore the clothing of a woman

of the upper classes. No chains, no skimpy little slave shift; a real,

dark red dress and shoes, with plain jewelry and her hair put up. I let

my expression show the confusion I felt and added, "What is this place?

What is to be done with me?"

"You will learn that in due time," the woman answered, rising

gracefully to her feet. "For the moment you will do more than obey

without question \a133 she is prepared to depart, master."

The last was directed to the man who was approaching us, a man dressed

in thigh-length red tunic, heavy, lace-up sandals, thick leather wrist

bracers and a sheathed sword. I might have considered his get-up

laughable if he hadn't also worn the casually uncaring look of a paid

sword and bully. It seemed highly probable that he was a guard, and

when he reached down and hauled me to my feet by one arm, the

probability became a certainty.

"The Prince awaits this one with impatience," the man growled, looking me over with what seemed to be a practiced eye. "There are guests,

therefore are you to follow as well."

"Yes, master," the woman responded in a low, unhappy voice as the guard

began hauling me along. The room we were in was relatively small, but

it was also paneled in dark wood with touches of silver decoration and

silk-seated items of furniture. The carpeting on the floor was thick

and soft, and it led through a doorway to another room of about the

same size, which was decorated just as richly. We passed through three

or four rooms of that sort, but I didn't have the time for sightseeing

the guard was in a hurry, and if he hadn't been holding my arm I would

have been flat on my face any number of times. We finally reached a

room smaller and barer than the rest, with two beautifully carved

wooden doors standing closed in front of us, another armed, tunicdressed

guard standing in front of the doors. The guard gripping my arm

pulled me to a halt, then nodded to the other guard.

"The Prince awaits this one, Ryskor," he said, raising my arm a couple

of inches. "The other has been summoned for the guests."

"Then she must be prepared," the guard called Ryskor answered, showing

a faint grin as he looked at the blonde behind us. "Come to me quickly,

little one. The Prince's guests must not be kept waiting.

"Master, I am already prepared," the blonde quavered, fingers tugging

nervously at each other as her eyes pleaded with the guard. "Rarely is

a latecomer chosen to tend a guest, yet should I be chosen despite

this, I will give such pleasure as has never\a133"

"Ah, ah, ah," Ryskor interrupted with a wider grin, waving a finger at

her as he walked toward a heavy wooden chair. "The Prince has decreed

that no slave shall pass those doors without first having been. You

will then strive that much harder for the privilege of giving pleasure.

Come here!"

The snap in the last two words made the woman jump, then started her

toward the guard, who was sitting himself in the chair. When she

reached him he took her by the waist and sat her down on his left knee,

then put his left arm around her waist. One of her hands went to his

shoulder and the other to the arm around her, but bracing herself did

no good at all. As soon as his free and began rising under her long

skirts, she shut her eyes and threw her head back.

"Master, I beg pity!" she whimpered, moving slightly against the

restraining arm around her. "I have not been used since last I was

prepared, and I cannot resist your touch! Please do not- Oh! Oh, no!"

I turned my head away so as not to have to watch the woman being

"prepared," but I couldn't keep from hearing her pleading, gasping and

struggling. They wanted her hot for the Prince's guests and hot she was

made, none of them giving a damn how much she would suffer until she

was taken care of-if she was taken care of. The guard holding my arm

watched the proceedings with a faintly amused look on his face, which

was a damned good thing for me; my hands had curled into fists below

the wrist cuffs, and if he hadn't been watching the show he would have

seen it. I just stood there staring at the beautifully carved doors,

fighting to calm down enough to open my hands, aware of the trembling

silence coming from the Bellna presence. She knew where we were as well

as I did and the thought frightened her, but she could feel the fury

inside me and was somehow comforted by it. If she'd had any sense,

comfort would have been the last thing she felt; losing your temper in

a dangerous situation is a good way of getting yourself killed, but I

wasn't far from doing exactly that. I was out of patience with these

big, strong manly men, and was waiting for nothing more than a couple

of minutes alone to dump those chains. After that we'd see how big and strong they were.

It didn't take long to get the blonde woman properly primed; the harder

part was getting her calmed down enough to pretend that nothing had

been done to her. It seemed to be part of the twisted game that she

show nothing of the need forced on her, but it took both of the guard

males to hold her until she stopped trying to reach herself. The thing

that really bothered me was the fact that she hadn't once screamed or

raised her voice to a shout during the entire incident, even though she

had panted, mewled, struggled and sobbed without tears. Quiet hysterics

were fine, but noise was out. That high a degree of conditioning made

me sick, but it also began to disturb me. If that was what Clero did to

female slaves as a matter of course, what did he have in mind for me?

I was willing to consider the question academically on a cold winter's

night some place far from there, but that sort of willingness didn't

help me much. I tried fading past the guards while they were involved

with the blonde, but they weren't involved enough to have forgotten

about me. I was just beginning to believe it might be clear when a

sandaled foot hooked the chain between my ankles and pulled hard,

sending me down to the floor with a crash and a clank of chain. I broke

the fall with my hands to keep anything else from breaking, but it

still hurt to land on the wrist chains with my body. My guard came over

and hauled me to my feet again, pushed me back toward the doors with a

shove, then laughed when I tripped and went down again. I was pulled to

my feet and then shoved two more times, finally being allowed to just

lie there while the blonde straightened her clothing and hair so that

she would be presentable. The carpeting was soft but the flooring under

it was hard, and I'd been shown what trying to slip away had bought me.

I hurt where the chains had repeatedly slammed into me, but that wasn't

the reason I kept my head down. I felt so close to snarling it

frightened me; what the hell had happened to the self-control I had

started out with?

I winced inwardly when I was pulled erect for the last time, then went

along quietly in the grip of the guard. The second guard opened one of

the doors for us and the blonde followed, walking stiffly with a

ghastly smile on her face. She hurried as fast as she could, peering

anxiously ahead to get a glimpse of the guest situation, then choked

softly when she saw. There were four men with Clero and seven women

dressed the way she was.

If I hadn't been in the middle of that insane situation, the scene

would have looked normal if not downright dull. Prince Clero stood in

the center of the group, dressed in dark red and white, his sword and

swordbelt and those of his guests clearly expensive and made for the

upper classes. They spoke in light tones to each other and the women,

who laughed appreciatively at the jokes and urged the men to try the

dozens of dishes standing on a side table. Sight of all that food made

me realize how hungry I was, but I was also able to see that none of

the women were eating unless they were fed something by one of the men.

Clero turned away from the others to see me, and his face suddenly

creased into a warm, beautiful smile that made him look even more

friendly and trustworthy than he normally looked. He continued smiling

beatifically while I was dragged right up to him, then he half-turned

and gestured for the attention of the others.

"Come, my friends, and give me your opinion of my newest acquisition,"

he said in a smugly pleased voice, his eyes still on me. "Is she not

worth the price I paid?"

The other four men left the circle of women to join Clero, and then

five pairs of eyes glittered at me. I stood in the grip of the guard, trying to look suitably beaten down, but somehow I didn't think I was

making it. I don't like being looked at like that, and my normal selfcontrol

was still misplaced.

"For one so young she is truly remarkable," one of the men commented,

letting his eyes move all over me as he sipped from the goblet he was

holding. "She also bears a striking resemblance to a certain high-born

young lady of our acquaintance, and yet this cannot be she. That

particular young lady would not have fallen slave."

"Which is a fortunate thing," said another, a stout man with a

slobbering leer. "Were she that particular young lady, it would be

necessary for us to remove her from among the living, to spare her poor

father the shame of knowing his daughter lived as a slave."

Bellna began trembling at their thinly veiled threat, struck by the

horror of her predicament all over again, and I showed everything she

felt, making the men around me laugh in amusement. It was suddenly

easier to act the way a helplessly trapped young girl should be acting,

and that told me my previous trouble with controlling myself had been

Bellna again stood with eyes downcast, trembling in the grip of the

guard next to me, trying to figure out how Bellna had gotten to me

without my knowing it, but I wasn't given the time I needed to

understand what had happened. The men were enjoying their laugh at my

expense, but the round and leering fellow had something else to say.

"How gratifying that the slave makes no attempt to claim a falsely

elevated status," he drawled, moving slowly closer until he was no more

than inches away from me. "And how generous of you, my lord, to offer

her use to us."

All four of the men were suddenly closer, their drooling approval of

that idea thick enough to feel, none of them aware of the stricken

looks covering the faces of the eight slave women. Bellna's panic made

me cringe back wide-eyed against the guard holding me, and Clero

chuckled indulgently.

"Your interest frightens the child, my friends," he drawled, getting a

good deal of pleasure out of the flinching fear I was showing. "I may

perhaps grant you her use later this day, should her training advance

in a satisfactory manner. By then, however, you may no longer wish her

use."

The men's leers froze, and without their taking a single step they were

no longer as close as they had been. A chill descended on the group as

a whole, but Clero never noticed it.

"She will, of course, be one of my special prizes," he said, his eyes

still glued to me. "She will be taught to hate and fear sexual

congress, and to find exquisite release only in the pain of the knife.

Her lovely body will be made even lovelier by the scars of the patterns

of pleasure - will it not?"

He turned to look at his guests then, and they hastened to assure him

that everything he said was true. The man beamed with pleasure at their

agreement, never seeing that their blood was probably running almost as

cold as mine. The sort of conditioning Clero intended was more than

possible; with the right preparation and enough repetition, almost any

woman could be taught to respond to a blade the way others responded to

men. Sight of the knife hilt would bring on the stirrings of desire,

unsheathing the blade would build uncontrollable arousal; the need to

be touched by that sharpened edge would grow and grow-until the first,

light stroke came to approximate penetration. Abandoned frenzy would

grow as the pain grew and then, at the height of agony, release would

finally come. It could he done, I knew it could he done, and as I

stared at Clero's happily smiling face I shook with the revulsion I felt. I didn't know how many little girls he'd laughingly cut to pieces

while they begged for more, and I didn't care. I just knew I wouldn't

let him make me one of them.

"Now that we have seen her, you may begin with her," Clero said to the

guard holding my arm, the warmth of his expression and tone suitable

for offering cookies and milk. "Take her to the holding room beside the

punishment cells, remove those chains and replace them with the usual

coarse-fiber rope, and then use her. See that at least another ten of

my tower guard also use her, but take care that no permanent injury is

given her. Do not allow her to become aroused, and do not allow her to

feel pleasure. Others will make her feel those things."

Clero's pleasant chuckle turned his guests pale and made a couple of

them swallow hard, but all the guard did was nod wordlessly and begin

to hustle me out of the room. Bellna was crouched in a far corner of my

mind, pulsing out whimpering terror, and more than one tendril of that

terror was beginning to wrap itself around me. Clero had told the guard

to take the chains I wore and replace them with rope, which would make

the lock pick I had hidden absolutely worthless. The number of dates he

had lined up for me would also go a far piece toward ruining the day,

and I could feel desperation tightening the muscles of my body.

Whatever I did in the way of escaping would have to be done before the

line started to form; after the kind of rape Clero had prescribed for

me, I'd be in no condition to do anything but lie there and moan.

The guard dragged me out of the great presence and through the doors,

and then we went back the way we had come. We continued on past the

spot I had started from, went through four or five more rooms, then

came to a bare-stoned stair area, beyond which was a door. Another

guard lounged against a wall in the stair area, but the guard holding

my arm did no more than nod to him before opening the door, shoving me

through, then tossing it behind us. I'd been too preoccupied to notice

it sooner, but my guard was angry; when the door was closed behind us,

I found out why.

"Princess," he muttered under his breath, shoving me again toward a low

wooden table which was, along with a matching bench, the only furniture

in the bare stone room. There was also a pile of rope in one corner,

but rope didn't usually count as furnishings. "They waste what other

men would kill to possess. A slave such as this one to be put beyond

the reach of men!"

The idea made him furious, and he pushed me so hard that I stumbled two

steps and landed belly-down on the low table, the wrist chain digging

into my body again and the ring knocking the wind out of me. I lay

there with my teeth clenched, sucking air back into my lungs, suddenly

as furious as the righteously indignant guard. He wasn't bothered

because of what would be done to me he was bothered by the fact that I

would no longer be available for him to do what be wanted to do to me.

He was a junior grade sadist too limited to make the big time, and the

lack grated. I started to push myself off the wooden table, nearly

trembling with a rage that waited for nothing more than the chains to

be unlocked, but a big hand in the middle of my back pushed me flat

again.

"A slave does not stir from where she is placed," I was informed by a

cold voice, the hand holding me down to the table. "You will be

informed when you have my permission to move about else you will find

what punishment you did earlier. Do you wish to be punished?"

"No, master," I forced myself to say in a meek whisper. Just unlock

those chains, master, and then we'll talk about movement and

punishment. "A pity," he commented, bringing a key to my left wrist cuff and

opening it. "A body such as yours is made for no other thing than

punishment. I may perhaps fetch a whip before I am done with you.

And I may perhaps shove that whip clear up to your putrid heart, I

growled to myself, then gasped as my left arm was twisted hard behind

my back. A second later a rope was being tied around my wrist, and I

found out what Clero had meant by coars-fibered; the damned thing felt