"I'd love that." To her surprise, Janys realized that she was already looking forward to spending more time with her new friend.
Shalimerie bestowed one more kiss on her husband, then they set out. Janys hadn't expected Kronitin to talk with her, and in fact he was silent as they wound their way across towards the cottage. Although she wished she could apologize to him for any pain he'd suffered because of her actions, she knew she would only get Shalimerie in trouble by mentioning that she knew.
Zellin threw open the door before they'd barely started up the path. "I put him to bed," he reported, glaring at Janys. "Tomorrow I will bring the doctor by."
Doctor? Janys didn't know whether to run to the bedroom to see what had happened, or flee from the evidence of her misconduct.
"Should one of us stay?" Kronitin asked.
"He says not." Zellin raised a graying eyebrow at Janys. "He says she can take care of him."
"But still— "Kronitin looked doubtful.
"Your brother can be as stubborn as your mother," the father broke in. "In his house, we must follow his wishes."
Neither man looked convinced that this off-world troublemaker could take care of their Martel, but after two gruff goodbyes, they vanished out the door. As soon as they were gone, Janys crept up the stairs. For the first time she slipped into the room where Martel slept.
He lay on his stomach dressed only in the male version of a prander. Even before she drew close, she could see he was covered with stripes and bruises from shoulder to waist Hesitantly she knelt by his side.
"Martel, what can I do help you?" she murmured.
He groaned and shifted slightly. "Not a thing," he choked out. "Please just go to bed, Janys. I will be better in the morning."
Now she understood why Shalimerie had given her the medications. "Let me at least fix you a cup of corittan," she countered. "Perhaps it will help you sleep." Especially when I use your sister-in-law's recipe.
She thought he was going to argue with her, but as with Kronitin earlier, he apparently didn't have the strength to resist. "One cup," he allowed. "Then you will go get your rest."
Before he could change his mind, she raced down to the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned holding the cup carefully. Although she hadn't dared taste it, she'd stirred the drops in thoroughly. At least in color and smell, it seemed the same chocolate mixture he sometimes made for breakfast.
He'd turned on his side so that he could take the cup from her. Now that the drink was actually in front of him, he seemed more enthusiastic. Finally he handed over the empty dish, then laid back on his stomach. "That was good," he admitted. "I had not had much to eat today. Thank you, Janys. Now if you will turn out the light—"
"Let me run this down to the kitchen first," she interrupted, rushing from the room before he could call her back. Once downstairs, she let a few minutes tick away while she rinsed out the cup, wondering why she hadn't asked Shalimerie exactly how long the drug would take to work. But by the time she crept back to the bedroom, he was sleeping soundly.
She waited a few more minutes before approaching. Unscrewing the cap, she dug the brown ointment out. Her fingers moved to his back as she touched the warm flesh, now feeling as well as seeing the damaged areas. Gently she began to spread the salve across it all.
It went on smoothly as she worked her way down until her hand cupped the curve of his backside. Feeling like a voyeur, she edged down his undergarment. As she'd suspected, his back hadn't even been the primary recipient of the blows. She brought out more ointment, smoothing it over his taut but livid buttocks, her fingers working deep between his globes to make sure she covered every inch.
Somehow the room had gotten hotter, or maybe the smell of the stuff made her dizzy. Quickly she finished off his thighs, then carefully replaced the garment. Without thinking, she bent over and kissed the top of his head. "I'm sorry," she whispered, the words feeling as meaningless as every other time she'd said or thought them all day. Slowly she turned out the light and shut his door.
She still felt lightheaded as she put the key in the lock for her bedroom. After burying the jar and bottle deeply into the Institute clothes in her trunk, she reached for her journal. "This is a barbarous planet," she wrote, "where they whip people for things that would never be crimes elsewhere." In great detail she described her day, including the condition of her husband.
"Please let someone get me out of here, before someone scars me for life!" she concluded. Yet although her hand wrote the words, they clashed with other feelings. Her understanding of Ellondelle's thoughts on structure. Her growing friendship with Shalimerie. And most of all, the tenderness that filled her as she attended Martel's beaten body, knowing he'd suffered it on her account.
That night she dreamed her hands massaged Martel's back, only his skin was smooth and he rose up from the bed to take her in his arms, pulling her down until he could feel underneath her sleep tunic. She woke up perspiring, wishing she could return to the fantasy world. Somehow she imagined she could hear his breathing even through the heavy walls. Just a few steps away lay the real thing.
You could go to him, she whispered. But you shouldn't. Not if you ever want to leave this horrible place.
Hours later she gave up on sleep to watch both suns rise from her window.
Chapter 6
Janys went back inside after all the color had disappeared from the dual sunrise. Putting some of her new cooking skills to work, she tried to make the breakfast version of the pastries Shalimerie had served her the night before, using cheeses and fruit spreads as fillings. She also brewed up a fresh batch of corittan, guiltily remembering sneaking the sleeping drops into the last cup.
"That smells good," a voice murmured behind her.
Startled, she turned around to see Martel leaning against the kitchen table. His sleep tunic lay unbuckled over his rigid body, but otherwise he looked and sounded normal.
"Should you be up?" she finally got out.
"I can stand as well as I can lie down," he replied. "The sitting part—well, that will have to wait."
"Did you sleep well?" she asked before biting her tongue
He shuffled towards her, plucking one of the fresh pastries off a baking sheet on the stove. "Surprisingly yes. I thought I would not be able to do it at all, but I must have been so exhausted I dropped off immediately."
"That's probably it." She turned her back and rapidly started putting more pastries on a sheet, hoping he wouldn't notice her crimson cheeks.
They didn't speak again of his condition as they consumed their meal, Martel putting away more pastries than Janys could have imagined. She felt awkward sitting while he stood, but he seemed comfortable with the arrangement.
As she got ready to store the extra pastries for other mornings, someone knocked on the door. She opened it to a party of three—Kronitin, Zellin, and a stout woman holding a medical bag. "Dr. Alaniette, Mistress Janys," Zellin intoned. "The doctor has come to check on Martel."
"Fortunately I do not need to be checked on," her husband responded, joining her in the entryway. "As you can see, except for my informal attire, I am doing well."
Kronitin and Zellin exchanged puzzled glances while the doctor breezed into the room. "Even so, Master Martel, now that I am here, I might as well look at you. I am sure Mistress Janys as well as your family would like my report."
I'm sure Mistress Janys doesn't need a report at all, Janys cried inwardly as she tried to think of a reason to send the doctor on her way. What if the woman saw remnants of Shalimerie's salve and thought Martel knew about it? He could end up being punished as well.
But Martel gave in, ushering the doctor up to his bedroom for the examination. A few minutes later she came down smiling. "Nothing to worry about," she assured the waiting crew. "He will have continue to have pain and stiffness for several days, but should heal completely."
Zellin beamed back at her, patting Kronitin on the shoulder. "A miracle!"
"Inde
ed." Kronitin's eyes narrowed as he looked at Janys, and she wondered if Shalimerie's other treatments had gone as unnoticed as her friend believed.
But Zellin's obvious relief couldn't be dimmed by his younger son. He even kissed Janys on the cheek before ushering the doctor out the door, telling her to get back to her clinic "for the people who really need your services."
As soon as the door shut behind the threesome, Martel padded down the stairs. "I did not want to argue with Dr. Alaniette any longer about staying in bed on the first day you and I have ever had to ourselves. Perhaps I could teach to play one of our games? Or I have a chess set and others you might already know."
Although Janys had not played anything for years, she followed him into the dining room and watched him pull several wooden boxes from the large bureau. This time she scarcely paid attention to the ominous wedding gifts still piled about.
He grinned sheepishly. "I had thought to find places for all these things, but it will have to remain this way a while longer while I spend time getting to know my wife. Let us take the games into the living room."
She helped him arrange himself on his side on the couch while she sat on a low stool. They started with checkers, finding themselves evenly matched. Then came Oso from Rigel, a dice and tile game Janys picked up easily. Finally they finished with up with something that reminded her of the late-night pinochle games at the Institute.
Shalimerie dropped by after lunch, Chardontal in tow. "I will only stay a moment," she announced as she handed Janys a loaf of warm bread and another bottle of winotal. "But I wanted to see for myself how Martel was doing."
"Much better than expected," he reported, not noticing the wink Shalimerie fired off behind his back. "But I admit a glass or two of this excellent beverage will help me sleep tonight." As Martel pried Oso pieces out of Chardontal's chubby hands, Shalimerie grinned at Janys and pantomimed shaking out drops.
Their next visitor was much less welcome. Scarcely had they resumed their card game after Shalimerie's departure when they heard another knock on the door. When Janys opened it, Yagote made a beeline for the stairs, a large basket over her arm. Only when Martel called out that he was in the living room did she turn around and rush to him, practically throwing herself on the stool Janys had just vacated.
"Let me help you!" she cried as she rummaged through the wicker, pulling out various jars and flasks. "See, I have everything to make you feel better, from —"
"But that is not necessary, my sister," he interrupted. Janys approved the emphasis he gave to the last word. "My wife has looked after me quite well, and I am all but mended. Even if not, I could not knowingly allow any balm to touch me." This time she didn't like the way he stressed the word "knowingly", nor the smile he gave her.
"I understand," Yagote muttered, though Janys thought otherwise.
Martel picked up the cards. "We were just getting started again. Would you join us in a game?"
The woman hesitated as though weighing the benefit of Martel's company versus the horror of socializing with Janys. Finally she shook her head. "I should go. Your mother will be expecting me back soon."
"Then give her my love, and tell her not to worry about me," he instructed, lightly brushing Yagote's cheek with his lips before Janys eagerly showed her to the door…
They continued playing games until the sun set. Janys brought out meats and spreads to make sandwiches from Shalimerie's bread while Martel opened the winotal. She'd gotten the feeling from the way Martel held his body that the salve had worn off, so she silently thanked her friend for bringing something else which eased the pain lines from his face.
After she cleared the rest of the food away, Martel gingerly sat up, then patted the space next to him on the couch. "Let us talk for a moment before I go upstairs." She slipped into the spot he indicated. Somehow it seemed natural to cuddle up to him, though she was careful to lean against his chest rather than his sore shoulder.
At first he chatted about Chardontal's growth and his hopes of becoming an uncle for a second time in the near future. She was getting sleepy herself when he woke her up. "Janys, is this getting easier for you?"
"What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.
"All of this." He waved his hand around the room. "Living here with me. Adjusting to our way of life."
"A little," she admitted, surprised to find she told the truth. "But there's still so much that bothers me."
"Tell me." His tawny arm paralleled hers, drawing her closer.
Where to start? "Last night—people you know did that to you. How could they stand it? And how could you let them?"
"Something one learns to do." His fingers stroked her arm, sending tingles down her body. "No one here enjoys receiving or giving forbinner, but it has to be done."
"I don't see why. There's other ways to make people follow the laws," she pointed out, tilting her head up so she could see the blonde bristles poking up where he hadn't bothered to shave that morning…
"Such as jails?" He raised an eyebrow. "You know our population is small. We need everyone working or raising children, not locked up where other people must guard them."
"Then fine them instead!"
"By taking away what? Their food? Their home? Unless people are saving for offworld travel or education, many do not bother with bank accounts," he reminded her. "Without expensive gadgetry to fill our homes, most have few possessions. And those who do, such as Rodogan and his books, would much rather suffer brief pain than surrender any of it."
"I just don't see why people should be beaten for breaking some minor rule," she continued stubbornly.
His hand lightly smacked her hip, his fingers curving around to the softer parts. "The secrecy of the Gathering is no minor rule, my dear. Everyone needs a place to confess their errors and endure the consequences without becoming the latest gossip at the meeting hall."
Although the spank hadn't really hurt, Janys rubbed it, but didn't draw away. "All right, I'm sorry I described it that way. But scarring someone for life—"
"Very few punishments, even forbinner, carry that risk. When the time comes, I will take great care not to permanently mark you," he assured her.
She drew in her breath. Although this wasn't the first reminder she'd gotten about her upcoming acquaintance with the spanking bench, she hadn't realized before how badly she could be hurt. Again her body tensed as though she had someplace to run to escape.
Martel noticed her shift in mood and drew her closer, kissing the top of her head. "Let us talk of happier things. Speaking of Rodogan and his library, you will soon get a chance to see it. Each year, he and his wife hold a party in honor of the Feast of Planetfall. He invited us last night."
"That sounds lovely," Janys agreed, wondering if she already owed their host an apology. Rodogan seemed close enough to Martel to have joined Kronitin and Zellin at the Men's Gathering in diverting strokes away from his friend. Yet would he invite her to his home if she'd caused him suffering?
At least I know better than to ask. Instead she stayed on the safer topic. "When is the party going to be?"
"Three days before Planetfall. Of course my family will host the actual Feast dinner for us, though I expect both you and Shalimerie will be asked to help prepare it."
Of course we will. But she liked the idea of Shalimerie being around to deal with Yagote. Somehow between the two of them, they ought to be able to keep the girl's hands where they belonged.
As if reading her thoughts, Martel continued. "I hope this year Yagote will ask someone to accompany her. If not, Master Lewital just returned from offworld to assist me in the trade office. His family left permanently some time ago, so I may persuade him join us."
Janys snuggled in closer, letting her arm trail across Martel's stomach. Now there was good idea—give Yagote a new target. Who knows? Under changed circumstances, the woman might become tolerable.
A loud rap interrupted their comfortable silence, banishing Janys's charitable thoughts t
owards her pseudo sister-in-law. She fumed as she slipped out of Martel's embrace, fully expecting to find either Yagote or Elondelle's face at the door.
Either would have been more welcome than the brown-bearded one who swept in. "Mistress Janys," Tadewidan greeted her. "I apologize for the hour, but our Council meeting ran late. We wished to know how your husband fares, and I agreed to find out on my return home."
"Quite well, as you can see," she replied, steering him towards the living room before falling back behind Martel. Although he'd exchanged his robe for a tunic, the loud thumping of her heart reminded her how close she'd come to banishment and death at the councilman's hands.
Although Martel tried to stand, Tadewidan motioned him to remain sitting. "The Council will be delighted you have recovered so rapidly," he said finally.
"I owe it to Janys. Her care and company made today much easier than I imagined." Martel reached up and took her hand, holding it to his cheek.
"I am sure they did." Janys found herself turning red under the Elder's scrutiny. "While normally the Council would not concern itself with marital relationships, except when by a spouse to become involved, under the circumstances we need to know how this one progresses."
"Just fine," she jumped in, hoping to get his mind off Martel's amazing recovery. "I've been going to lessons with Elondelle and learning a lot."
"As the Mistress herself reports," Tadewidan acknowledged. "But you must also find your way within our larger community, not just within the family circle."
So I'm being graded on playing well with others? They must think Martel and his relations are covering up for me. "I've spent time with Shalimerie and her family," she defended herself. "And we have just been asked to a party at Master Rodogan's house."
Tadewidan nodded. "Yes, the Council supports that means of introduction to our society."
Janys bit her lip. Apparently these people knew everything before she did. For all she knew, they'd twisted Rodogan's arm to sponsor her "debut". As if there were anyone in Wyteen who didn't already know her from the trial and the wedding.
Captive Discipline (Demetrian Brides Book 1) Page 9
