by George Olney
There was the crash of steel as the two passed each other in the street. Frenchy couldn't see who swung first and who parried, but she was sure a killing blow had been tried and blocked. As the momentum of the Gorts carried their furious riders past each other, Frenchy was sorry that Grae hadn't scored. It would have been better if he'd taken the slaver bastard out with the first blow. Shorter, more efficient, less risk for Grae, and the scum would already be in pieces.
Frenchy was past worrying about the fight. Now all she wanted was Yert dead.
With a grace that belied their ponderous size, the two gorts wheeled and started back towards each other. Now that the first pass had been gotten out of the way, it looked as though the duelists were about to get serious and the spot where they were going to meet was almost in front of her.
The gorts crashed in the middle of the dirt street in a bellowing, kicking tangle that produced clouds of dust making things hard to see clearly. Frenchy thought that no human could live, caught in the battle of the two huge beasts, but the men were doing it. Not only that, they were executing savage, expert slashes and thrusts of their own, each timed to the motions of the animals. She caught her breath as Grae smoothly twisted to let a thrust miss by a fraction. His return cut was deflected by Yert's equally mobile blade.
Yert tumbled from the saddle, to rise, bleeding from a cut on his shoulder, in the dusty street. Grae immediately abandoned his gort to its own battle. With the trumpeting and bellowing of the two beasts in the background, the men circled each other slowly, moving with a deadly grace.
Frenchy watched the ominous ballet, so tense she could barely breathe. It suddenly hit her that she didn't want Grae dead, or hurt, or anything. She wanted him alive.
She loved him.
That was her man in the street, swinging a five foot steel razor and taking on someone that represented everything in life she hated. He was doing something she knew he had to do, but she wanted him whole. She wished for a gun. Custom or not, right then she'd kill Yert if she had the means.
The two men paused in their deadly slow circle. "Hey, fool!" Yert yelled. "When you're in hell, think about what I'm going to be doing to that blonde woman. Fun, eh?"
Grae smiled. "Yert, one thing about you annoys me more than anything else... the fact that you're breathing.
"I'll correct that now."
Grae's attack was a quick combination of three bright arcs of steel in the air, seemingly at the same time. Yert blocked two of them.
Grae leaned on his sword and looked his dying enemy - sprawled on the street in a pool of blood - calmly in the face. Yert had strength enough left to snarl back up at him and make a weak movement towards his own blade, but Grae casually kicked it out of the way of his feebly groping hand. "You know," Grae said softly, "I'm glad you're still alive. I'm glad it ended this way. There are a thousand Lycanthi women who wish every day they could do what I'm going to do. This is for each... and... every... one... of... them."
Yert's eyes widened with horror as Grae swung his sword up and brought it down in a terrible, final slash, cleaving him to the breastbone.
Grae looked at the corpse and spat on it. "Slaver." He looked around, checking on his gort. The animals were separate and quiet, their battle an apparent draw. Neither showed more than minor surface injuries and the two were disinclined to continue fighting if their riders weren't goading them. Looked like he now had a spare riding animal.
Grae leaned over and fished momentarily in Yert's belt pouch, palming several items. He waved one of them over the dead body, then went to retrieve the gorts and led them over to the women. Handing the reins to Maev, he turned to Frenchy. "Mistress, I'm sorry I had to do it this way, but you are now honorably unbound. Here."
Slightly dazed at Grae's unexpected pronouncement, she didn't resist when he took her hand and pressed her pendant, along with something else, into it. "That's done," he continued. "Also, you've enough wealth to see to your needs. The moment I killed that bastard as your master, you were not only honorably unbound, I assumed ownership of all his possessions. I give them to you. You have your pendant. This other device is a credit account. Given that it was Gert’s, there ought to be a sizeable balance. Maev will set it for your electronic field then show you how to use it. I'll be back in a few minutes. Then there's one other thing I have to say."
He handed her his long sword. "Mistress, care for my blade while I get things from the room."
Bemused, she took his sword and watched him turn without further comment, descending the stairs back into the gathering house. The sword was heavy and awkward in her hands. She stood it point down in the dirt so it could be supported with one hand, as she often saw him do, then examined both objects in her other hand for a moment. The credit account looked like a small cell phone, complete with window. The other was her pendant.
Maev took the credit account, placed it on Frenchy's chest just below the throat, and tapped several buttons in sequence. "It lost its security key when Grae touched it to Yert's corpse. I've reset it to your electronic field so it's yours, now. Nobody else but you can use it unless you die and it's reset again."
Maev's expression was one of disgust. "The bastard probably killed someone to get it himself."
Frenchy nodded her thanks, then leaned over to the ground, carefully putting the credit account to one side. Deliberately, she placed the pendant on the dirt street, reversed the sword in her hands, and used the steel pommel to repeatedly and savagely batter the jewel to dust. She'd never wear that damned thing again!
Grae was back in a few moments carrying his gear, which he secured to his gort. Returning to her, he held out his hand for his sword. "Well, mistress," he asked, "did you care for the blade well?"
She glared at him belligerently. "I had to use it. I wanted that damned pendant smashed and it was the only thing handy to use. Sorry."
He smiled. "Under the circumstances, I think I can forgive you." He casually sheathed the weapon in its saddle scabbard then turned back to her. To her surprise and joy, he took her in his arms and hugged her tenderly. "Mistress," he said softly, "I love you as much as any human in the universe."
She hugged him back fiercely. "Oh, dammit, dammit, dammit, I love you too, you big bum."
He held her at arm's length. "I love you, but there's a thing that needs doing, and doing alone. I'm going and I'm probably not coming back. Maev's yours. Take care of her."
"What?!"
He dropped his hands and turned, climbing swiftly into the gort's saddle. He looked at her for a second. Frenchy felt a shiver run up her spine. Nobody had ever looked at her before with that kind of love. "Remember you're never alone, and remember I love you, wherever you are. Good-by, mistress."
Grae swiftly turned his gort and galloped out of the town, and she stood there for a moment, watching him leave. In a day of surprises that constantly left her stunned, this was the biggest. She was free now, rid of him, and he was gone. She wanted that, didn't she? But she loved him and he loved her.
She felt, rather than saw, Maev standing next to her. Still watching Grae's receding figure, she quietly asked, "Why does he call me 'mistress'?"
Maev replied without turning her head. She was also watching Grae's departure. "He started that after he found out Grete adopted you, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"A man may not marry until his woman is adopted into the Tribe. Grete knew about you, and I think she was thinking of that when she adopted you. She wanted to give him the option. It's not mandatory, you know. He didn't have to marry you. She just wanted to give you both a chance at it.
"A man calls his betrothed, and later his wife, 'Mistress'."
Frenchy didn't appear to be listening, but she heard every soft, dreamy word.
The last sentence did it.
She held herself under rigid control as she turned to Maev. When the girl saw her face, she took her arm without comment and tenderly led her back to the room. Frenchy made it as far as the chair before
she broke down. Maev held her as she finally let her emotions take control, heavy sobs wracking her body. After what seemed forever, she finally calmed down enough to gently push Maev away and go clean up. Just the act of washing her face made her feel better. Finally, she noticed herself in the mirror and stopped. The woman in the mirror looked like hell. She looked like someone that just lost the most important thing in her life.
For the first time in her life, there was a man that loved her, really loved her. She loved him. And he was gone. Why?
She was free now, damn it! She could do what she pleased and feel how she pleased. She could love someone, but the man she wanted was gone. Yet, he wanted her. He loved her. But he was gone. Why?
Suddenly, she remembered something else. She was free but Maev was bound to her. She was Grae's parting gift. That was totally repugnant. Dammit, she was free now and damned if she was going to own another person, especially after being someone else's property.
"Maev," she said firmly, "take off that pendant. You're free."
Maev looked at her with a shocked expression. "You're rejecting me? After Grae gave me to you?"
Frenchy gritted her teeth. She wanted no part of possessing the other girl. "Yes. I was bound. Damned if I want to bind another person."
Maev reached for her pendant with shaky hands. "You're turning me out? Like this?"
Maev's face registered on Frenchy. The girl's expression was haunted, shamed. It was like after the rape and nothing had changed since. Frenchy, she reminded herself, tribal girls that were summarily freed without reason killed themselves. It was patently obvious Maev was developing that state of mind. What she saw as a necessary act of human dignity, Maev saw as an insult to her honor. "Wait!"
Maev, hands on the pendant chain, froze, her expression a curious study in quizzical hope.
"Put it back," Frenchy forced herself to say the words. She felt trapped. She was going to have to keep Maev like this until she could find a way to free her that would be acceptable to her screwy honor code.
Maev's face lit up in an expression of relief and joy.
Damn these people!
And damn Grae for getting her into this mess!
She needed answers.
Maev was going to give some answers.
Maev, it turned out, was very willing to give some answers. Apparently, the girl was in a hurry to get away from the topic of being summarily unbound. "I'll tell you as much as I know and can guess," she said, "but I'm not sure it's what you want to hear."
"Go ahead," Frenchy said, "I'm a big girl. He thinks he's going to go die, doesn't he?"
Maev nodded.
"And he thinks he has to. Why?"
Again the nod. "Frenchy, Grae's an Enforcement agent on a mission, a very dangerous mission. That's normal for our business, but he's doing it alone, which is not. He's loaded the odds against himself and I can only guess he did it on purpose. He wants to die on this one. Go out fighting."
"But--"
Maev waved her to silence. "I've been off planet a lot, done a good many missions masquerading as a Galactic. I understand how they think, but I'm still Tribal. My Tribal part tells me what Grae's thoughts are, but that they are private, not for me to tell without permission. My Galactic part tells me to violate custom. You have to know."
"What?"
"Why." Maev sat on the bed, rested her elbows on her knees and looked Frenchy earnestly in the face. "Frenchy, I'm breaking taboo to tell you this, but I've got to do it. I feel it would be a wrongness if I didn't. Look, all our Tribal beliefs are wrapped up in the way we relate to each other. Grae was bonded to her that is gone. That is the most holy state in our society. Bonding means two people have literally become one person, indivisible. When one dies, half the soul of the other dies. Normally, that person finds life intolerable and finds some way to die as well."
Frenchy shivered. Hearing it so coldly stated, the whole idea was macabre. "That sounds horrible."
Maev shook her head. "Oh, no. You just don't understand us. Bonding is the most beautiful, the greatest thing that can happen to a person. But people that can feel that deeply are rare, and bonding’s not very common. I think everybody wishes they could feel that way, but it's just not in the cards.
"Grae was bonded. That in itself means he's pretty special. I feel you have that same capacity, too."
Frenchy started in surprise then her natural cynicism took over. "Come on! Look, you don't know anything about me! I've never been close to anyone in my life-"
"Until now," Maev interrupted quietly. "I see in you what Grete saw in you, and why Grae loves you. You're a very special person, and you and he have something special between you. I saw it the night you danced for him in front of the crowd. You put so much into that dance that it broke through every barrier the two of you had put up between you."
Frenchy blushed. She knew that dance was special, but hadn't meant for it to be so intimate. Maev smiled at her discomfort. "Don't be embarrassed. I loved it. I just wish I had your skill and a man I could communicate with like you did." Then she frowned. "But that dance scared him, because it made him realize the two of you were so deeply in love."
"Scared him!" Frenchy didn't dispute the second statement.
Maev nodded. "Yes. Why he put off killing himself when she who is gone left him, I don't know. I think Grete does. The fact remains he didn't. Everyone who knew him knew he would, sooner or later, but he was just waiting for the right time. I think this mission was it, but then he brought you back with him and things changed." Maev reached over and placed her hand tenderly on Frenchy's. "Frenchy, you have to realize just how unique bonding really is. It almost never happens - then Grae found himself with the possibility of it happening to him twice. That's unheard of! I think he wanted to resolve his responsibility to her that is gone and to what he felt he owed you. I think this is his way."
Frenchy sat back in the chair and looked off into space. "All this time," she mused, "all this time, I thought he was doing things because of the moment. He was really doing all of this because of me, wasn't he?" Maev nodded silently.
Frenchy continued. "Everything led up to the fact that I now belong to an organization, have a family, money, and freedom to use all of it. Right?"
"That probably wasn't his first intention," Maev said, "but I'm sure he wanted that result. He had no idea Grete would adopt you, but he took the benefit and added it to his plan. He really loves you, you know. Only a wife may have custody of her husband's steel. That was what he meant when he gave you his sword in the street, using the customary phrases. All of this was for you. He was doing what he thought you wanted."
"It was what I wanted at the time," Frenchy said, her voice acquiring an edge, "but things change. He felt he owed his bondsmate his death, didn't he?"
Maev looked puzzled. "I'm not sure. He stayed alive too long after she left. I don't know why. I'm sure he feels he can honor that obligation now, though."
Frenchy snorted. "So he leaves me set for life and goes off to play the lead in a romantic tragedy!" Her face took on its old pugnacious expression. Her fighting blood was up. Damn the man, anyhow!
"Frenchy has got the rest of her life fixed, so dump her and take off!
"Wrong, bucko!"
She gave Maev a stormy look. "I am going to get my feet on the ground and start acting like a free woman and you are going to show me how. I need clothes and I’ve got money. So, okay, when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping." She stood up. "Then we are going to figure out how to catch up with that man."
Her voice caught, slightly. "I am not going to let the first man that ever loved me wander off and stick his head in a buzz saw without me. Things may end up the same, but Mister Grae has a little explaining to do on how, when, where, and why first!"
She started for the door. "Right now, Maev, you are going to show me where to get some clothes. I’m tired of walking around naked!"
Maev took a route out of the building that surprised F
renchy. Instead of heading out the front door and up the stairs to the street, the girl passed down a side corridor and into a large, brightly lighted tunnel. All of the buildings, it turned out, were linked by large underground walkways. "More convenient in bad weather," Maev commented, "and safer after dark."
Considering what wandered around this planet after the sun set, Frenchy could heartily agree. That's why there were only a few people on the outer street. There were certainly a good many going about their business underground, in all states of dress or lack thereof. On some, their facial patterns were their only adornment. Frenchy and Maev's nudity was completely unremarkable in the crowd. Thinking about it, she also realized that the tunnels were climatically stable. That was why the tribes were so casual about clothing. They ordinarily lived in a totally controlled environment, so clothing for practical purposes was only necessary on the surface, where the climate was moderate most of the time, anyhow.
Another little mystery solved. The idea she’d solved it pleased her.
Another thought struck her. She suddenly realized that, in all the time she was on Grae's ship or on this world, wandering around in a state of nature, she'd never felt an unpleasant texture. That figured. Clothing was originally for protection, anyhow. If you did without as a regular thing, you wanted to be comfortable. Ergo, everything was made so as to avoid irritating sensitive skin. One more reason why nobody seemed to care much about clothes. Goofy bunch, the Tribes, but they had a practical streak. She had to hand them that.
After a question or two to a passerby, Maev led them to the Tribal equivalent of the local department store. Once more, Frenchy was treated to a mixture of the Old West and Star Wars. The place was compact, but had everything from camping supplies to electronic equipment that looked like it would make the Japanese drop dead with envy.
The selection of ladies clothing, on the other hand, was somewhat limited. That figured.
Of course, she noted, the men's clothing section was also stylistically retarded, but who gave a damn about that?
