Free High Couch of Silistra by Janet Morris Page B

he said.
    “Give them to me.” I held out my hand.
    “No, I will hold them until we reach Arlet.” He took the birds and began to clean them. “They are safer with me.”
    “Where is Santh?”
    “He was gone when I awoke. He will find us again if he so chooses.” He met my eyes for the first time. “We will strike out for the road, that way,” he pointed, “as soon as we have eaten. I would make it there by mid-meal.”
    “I would wait for Santh.”
    “Woman, do not try my patience.” His eyes were hard. “I have thought much about what has happened since we met. I have paid for your use, but you have used me. I have paid with more than dippars, and I will yet get full value from you.”
    He reached into one of the pockets in his belt and drew forth a thong on which was strung perhaps two hundred gold dippars. He leaned to me and fastened the thong behind my neck. Then he leaned back and regarded me.
    “Now, you wear your worth. I had thought to wait and pay you in Arlet, but I have changed my mind. I would look on you and be reminded who and what you are. And perhaps you, too, will find yourself better able to recollect your station.”
    I was angry. I reached up to remove the necklace of coins. He took my wrists and held them in one hand. His grip was not gentle. I had played the game of control and I had lost. One controls a man through his weakness, his self-image. Dellin had reassessed himself. He could not be handled now, as he was before. I struggled to free my hands, but he held me easily. I closed my eyes to read him, to find a reference point in him I could use, but he slapped me, hard, with his free hand, across the face.
    “No,” he said. “Look at me.” I did so.
    “Remove your chald.” He let my hands go.
    I shook my head. I could taste the blood in my mouth. His hand was in my hair.
    “Do it! Fear me, woman! I might kill you here and blame it on the chaldless, and none will gainsay me. If you serve me truly, I will deliver you to Arlet. Then I will give you your chald and your artifacts. Santh is not here to protect you. You must depend on me. I would not be taken for a chaldless on the road to Arlet.”
    “You are unbalanced, from the shock!”
    “On the contrary, I think I have, for the first time in my life, struck a tenable balance with myself. I would not bind you, Estri. You said yourself that that is too easy. By your chald and your father’s ring shall I hold you. Give them to me!”
    I did as he commanded. He was totally in control of the situation. For the first time, I did fear him. To have a man come to the Well, money in hand, determined to take an evening’s pleasure with a high-couch girl, is one thing. A woman has subtle but effective restraints upon his behavior. Here, alone, with Dellin, who had freed himself of those invisible bonds by which we bend men to our wills, I had no option. This was another thing entirely. I had put myself into his hands, when I thought those hands were weak. I had miscalculated. If I tried to escape him alone, my fate might be worse.
    He took the chald and examined it. He removed my father’s ring from the chald and slipped it on the middle finger of his left hand. The chald was too small for his waist. He draped it around his neck. Then he lay down on the soft grass. He pointed to the harths.
    “Cook the meal.” I did, and he ate his fill. Then he gave me the remains, and I devoured them. I read him, and what I saw confirmed what he had said.
    We struck out through the woods toward the road to Arlet. He moved quickly, said little, and I found myself half-running to match his pace. I called Santh, but got no response. I wondered if Dellin had somehow driven him away. When we were in sight of the road, a wide stone-block thoroughfare, lightly traveled, we stopped to rest in a thicket. The road was below us; we could see a good distance in either direction without being observed.
    I collapsed on the soft mossy ground, panting, grateful