Delinda had certainly seen naked men before, but nothing had prepared her for this sight. She had known he was taller—much taller—than any man she had seen, and his shoulders were wider and his chest broader. It had not occurred to her that he would be proportionately large in all areas. Goddess, Bloduewedd thought to breed with that? She watched, unable to look away. If it looks like that flaccid, I wonder how big it is when erect. A sound to her left made her blush guiltily as Letta bustled around the corner from between a row of shelves.
“I tried to find a pair of shoes I could cut open to let his toes stick out, but I have nothing big enough right now,” she apologized.
“That’s fine, Letta,” said Delinda. “We will get something made next week.” She turned back to where the man was standing, now more or less fully dressed. The pants showed a great deal of his lower legs and the sleeves of the shirt ended just below his elbows, but he looked less ridiculous than in the discarded trousers.
“Ostyn, please help…” She realized she had never asked the outlander his name. She chided herself for not doing so—treating men as if they did not have their own identities was one of the things she despised about the current system of slavery. “I must apologize for not previously having asked your name,” she said, turning to address the man, who looked much steadier on his feet now. Goddess, but he was tall!
“My name?” He grinned. “It is the Honorable Brandon Jerald Caldwell, third son of the Lord of Caldwell. You can call me Jeryl.”
Delinda wondered the significance of this recitation of names and, if she was not mistaken, titles, but did not have time to question him at the moment. “Thank you. Ostyn, would you please help Jeryl into the carriage? It’s time we went home.”
“Yes, Miss!” said Ostyn, his tone indicating he was in hearty agreement with this plan. Jeryl allowed Ostyn to lead him out to the carriage and help him up the steps. Delinda followed and settled herself opposite him. Ostyn closed the door, and Delinda waited for him to climb up to the driver’s seat. She began closing the shades that pulled down over the windows in the sides and back of the carriage. It became dark inside.
Sensing Jeryl’s alarm, Delinda said, “I will open them as soon as we leave the main village. I do not think this carriage will be recognized as of yet, and I have been the object of enough attention over the last day and a half to last a lifetime.”
To this last statement, Jeryl most heartily concurred.
* * * * *
True to her word, Jeryl’s new “employer” reopened the shades as soon as they heard the sounds of village life fade away. She sighed and settled back into her seat, eyeing Jeryl with obvious curiosity.
Jeryl’s scrutiny was at least as acute. Who is this woman, and what does she want with me? The carriage had no escort as far as Jeryl could see—if he were to suddenly open the door and leap out, who would stop him? Surely not Ostyn, who seemed as mild as a lamb, not to mention about half Jeryl’s weight.
Why, then, did not he do exactly that? Was he afraid this woman—Delinda was her name, if he recalled correctly—would leap out and pursue him, or raise a search party and hunt him down? Perhaps. But somehow he did not think so. No, what kept him in the carriage was simple curiosity. And, he had to admit, plain exhaustion. Wherever she was taking him, he planned to lie down and sleep for a week, and whatever she had in mind would just have to wait until he was done.
She must have been reading his mind, because she yawned hugely. “It’s barely midday and I’m already exhausted.” She stretched and assumed a more relaxed position, but continued to stare at him intently.
“You don’t look especially tired,” he said. He wondered whether she would be more forthcoming with answers than the others he had met. Except for Duwall, of course.
“Well, I am fairly bursting with questions, but I don’t really know where to begin.”
“You have questions?” He chuckled. “You sit in your own carriage in your own lands, and tell me you are bursting with questions.”
“Oh.” Delinda looked taken aback. “You are right, of course. You have obviously been through a great deal. But there is so much I want to know…” She trailed off, probably responding to Jeryl’s involuntary wince.
“I am sure you have a lot of questions,” she started again, “and I will try to tell you as much as I can. There is a great deal I need to ask you as well, but I think it better to give you some information first.” She smiled at him. “As trying as the past two days have been for me, I have a feeling they have been more of an ordeal for you.”
“That,” responded Jeryl, “may be a bit of an understatement. But go ahead and say your piece. I don’t think I have the energy to start.”
She nodded and took a deep breath, as if about to give a recitation. “My name, as I said before, is Delinda. I have recently returned to Glamurhaven from the city of Baldorgan, where I have lived since I was six years old. Before that, I lived here with my mother, who was the Rahntadrine of this sector. Do you know that word?” Jeryl nodded his understanding. She went on, “When I was six, Bloduewedd successfully supplanted my mother by the use of deception and evil magic. It’s a long story, and I myself still do not know all of it, but the important thing is that my mother left the village in disgrace and, I believe, in fear for her life.
“In the city, life was different. While we were still wealthy, even by the standards of Baldorgan, having power did not automatically grant authority. Oh, women could use it for personal gain, but my mother was embittered by what had happened here, and chose not to take that path.”
“Last winter my mother died, but not before she had passed the rahnta to me. I had long before decided that when I was ready, I would return to Glamurhaven and restore the estate and farmlands my mother abandoned when we left. So after my mother’s death, I sold our house in the city and made plans to come here. And here I am,” she finished.
And you are leaving a great deal out of that story, thought Jeryl. “What do you want with me?” he asked, moving directly to the question that seemed the most relevant.
Delinda paused for a long time, looking at him speculatively. When Jeryl had just about decided she was not going to answer his question, she blurted out, “It is all part of phase one of my plan to end the system of male slavery, first in this sector, and then the entire land.”
Whatever Jeryl had been expecting, this was most assuredly not it. He could feel his eyes open wide and his jaw literally drop, but he could not help himself. He began to laugh as heartily as he had ever laughed. The effort sent jabs of pain through his ribs, but he could not stop. As Delinda stared at him in astonishment, he laughed until tears rolled from his eyes and he could barely breathe. He laughed as he had not laughed since before his ship had become hopelessly lost on his ill-conceived trip to this hell-cursed land. Jeryl laughed until he could laugh no longer, and all the time Delinda stared at him as if trapped in the carriage with a madman.
“Oh, my lady,” he said, gasping helplessly. “Forgive me if I have offended you, it was not my intention.” He wiped the tears from his face and struggled to regain his composure. “But in the last two days, I have lost a ship, awakened on a deserted beach, climbed a cliff despite broken ribs, been captured by a band of armor-wearing harpies, been treated to my first real bath in half a year, thrown naked into a cell, taken to a drunken crazy woman’s bedroom to be some kind of bewitched courtesan, knocked unconscious by a sword-wielding ogress, condemned to death by beheading, and…” He paused for breath, fighting off the urge to succumb again to hysteria. “Now I am in the coach of a revolutionary, who thinks I can help her save the world!” He gave up and surrendered again to helpless laughter.
Delinda lost her sour expression at “armor-wearing harpies” and started to grin.
“I apologize for smiling at your predicament,” she said, “but ‘ogress’ is a pretty apt description for Grenda. I assume you refer to her?”
“Oh, yes.” He shuddered and, drawing a ragged
breath, managed to get hold of himself. “I do not know what came over me, my lady. I must plead exhaustion and exceptional circumstances.”
“Exceptional indeed,” replied Delinda. “Do not apologize. I learned quite a bit from your tirade. A ship, you say? You were on a ship?”
“Aye, I was. My ship, the Sheeling. The prettiest ship you ever saw, she was, until I got the insane idea to sail east to find the cursed Easterlies, and ended up in a storm that dashed her to pieces on your rocky shores.”
“Did anyone else survive?” asked Delinda excitedly. “Are there others?”
“No, my lady, I woke up alone. I had a good view of the shoreline, and saw no others.” No bodies, either, and damned little debris.
“And may I assume the ‘armor-wearing harpies’,” she grinned again at this colorful description, “were Bloduewedd’s troops?”
“Ah, so you have had the displeasure of meeting my favorite nightmare? Yes, I asked them for water.” His face darkened. “They just trussed me up and took me to the slave market.”
“Yes, I gathered that was where Grenda was taking you when I saw you on the street yesterday.”
“I never got to thank you for helping me,” he said seriously. “I thought you were an angel at first. Before you touched me and did that thing,” he gestured vaguely, “with your power, I guess. You may have saved me.”
“I am glad you remember. But if you were in the sheds, how did you end up in Bloduewedd’s bedroom?”
“She sent Grenda for me,” he said grimly. “And they threw me on a horse. She did something to me with her damned rahnta that made me forget who I was and what she was…” Jeryl trailed off, anger at the memory still fresh. “Somehow, I came to my senses just before I…before she…just in time. She was rather put out when her night did not go as she planned,” he finished, his good humor somewhat restored.
“I suppose it is because you were not raised here,” said Delinda.
“What does that have to do with it?”
“Well, when a person is often subjected to the rahnta, their mind and their body each become accustomed to the power’s path. Every time it is used, those paths become more clearly marked, like an oft-trodden trail. It becomes easier for the rahnta to find its way, and its wielder does not need to use as much effort to achieve her ends. Bloduewedd must have momentarily forgotten you are new to the rahnta and let her mind wander.”
Jeryl nodded. Considering what had been happening the moment his self-will returned, it seemed likely that Bloduewedd may have indeed suffered a lapse in concentration. He shuddered at the memory.
Delinda went on. “You say it was your ship. Does this mean you owned it or that you captained it?”
“Both,” said Jeryl. “To the consternation of my family, who would have preferred I stay home.”
“And do what?” asked Delinda.
“Play the part of a country squire, I suppose.” He saw Delinda was unfamiliar with this term. “A gentleman farmer. Collecting the rent and discussing next year’s crops with the manager, who really does all the work. Dabbling in local politics, hosting balls, marrying a suitable girl and producing an heir.” He smiled. “I would have died of boredom, so I went to sea like my wicked uncle, who held the title of family black sheep before he died and left it to me, along with his interest in a profitable shipping company.”
Delinda sat up straight, completely abandoning her relaxed posture. “But that means—oh, you are so perfect for my plan! Tell me, on your ship, you were in command?”
“Yes, of course.”
“So you are accustomed to leading. Excellent. And how many people were on your crew?” She leaned forward eagerly.
“Twenty-four,” he said, and pushed down the grief that he had been too busy to fully experience. Yet. “Twenty-four deaths on my hands for bringing them on this ill-fated journey. The best men any captain could have asked for.”
“Were they all men? No women?” asked Delinda.
“God, no!” Jeryl was shocked at the idea. “Women do not go to sea, and it’s considered bad luck to have one aboard, even at port.” He saw Delinda’s eyebrows rise and smiled ruefully. “I guess women going to sea sounds perfectly normal to you.”
“Not really,” said Delinda. “Our coastline is so treacherous that we seldom take boats far from shore, and then only small boats. I have never seen one large enough to hold twenty-five people.” She seemed to have another thought. “What are women like where you are from? Are they slaves, like the men here?”
“Slaves? No, but men do all the important things and women mostly do as their husbands wish. With a few notable exceptions.” Jeryl thought of his granna, who had ruled his distinguished grandfather’s life in every way, from what Jeryl had observed.
“What is a husband?”
“Well, a husband is the man a woman marries.” Seeing Delinda was still perplexed, Jeryl continued, “The person who she, er, has a wedding with and…” She still showed no sign of comprehension. He sighed. He realized he had never thought much about marriage—it was simply something that happened to most people eventually. He started again. “A marriage is when a man and a women pledge before God,” he looked inquisitively at her and she nodded comprehension, “that they will, um, well, love one another, I suppose.”
He paused, surprised at how difficult it was to sum up the meaning of marriage in a few words. “They will live with each other and they will probably have children, and they will not have any other romantic…” He was starting to sweat now. “They will not…they will not…” He trailed off.
“They will not what?” asked Delinda. She looked totally confused.
“They will not do what Bloduewedd tried to do with me with anyone else,” he finished, surprised to feel a flush rising on his face, which he hoped she could not see in the shadowed carriage.
“I see,” said Delinda. “And have you had one of these marriages?”
“Have I? No, not yet.” Jeryl was glad to be back on familiar ground.
“So you could breed with anyone you want, then?” she asked.
Jeryl was so startled by this astonishing question that he barked out an involuntary laugh. “Well, yes, but not really, no,” he said, vastly amused. “I mean, respectable women do not…do that with anyone but their husbands, and the other kind of women…”
“The ones who are not respectable?” asked Delinda.
“Yes, those are not so easy to find, and those that one does find are not always very…desirable.” Jeryl sincerely hoped for a change of subject. “Why do you want to know about this?”
“It’s interesting,” said Delinda matter-of-factly. “Also, I need to know whether you are going to be able to help with my plan.”
“That would be your plan to end slavery in this sector,” said Jeryl.
“And the entire land,” finished Delinda.
“And what does that have to do with…breeding?” asked Jeryl, deciding it was safest to use her word for it.
“It could be important for phase two, but I am getting ahead of myself. I haven’t even told you about phase one yet. I think your having been a ship’s captain will be helpful for phase one.”
As Delinda talked about her plan, her face became serious and passionate. Jeryl realized he had not been at all incorrect to call her a revolutionary. Her golden eyes sparkled and she sat forward on the bench, coming close to him. He could not help but notice she smelled like sweet soap and clean skin.
What am I doing? I should open the door and just start running into the woods. What is stopping me? He reminded himself there was no hurry. Somehow he did not think this woman would shackle him, or even lock his door. There was no reason not to let his wounds heal up for a day or two and perhaps have a few good meals while he made his plans. He wondered if she had a bathhouse.
“Phase one of my plan,” she said, “is to form a core group of men who are free of the dark rahnta, which is the power most women use to control their slaves.” Jeryl nodde
d to show that he understood. “I believe once they are no longer under its influence, they will start to think more clearly and then it will be possible to teach them. Ostyn,” she gestured toward the driver’s box, “has only been my employee for eight days, and he has made tremendous progress already. I was going to buy more men at the auction yesterday, but I had a little misunderstanding with Bloduewedd and I decided it would be better to remain inconspicuous.”
“Did deciding to buy me not defeat that purpose?” asked Jeryl.
“Yes,” admitted Delinda. “But it was an emergency, and besides, it has really turned out for the best, do you not agree?”
Jeryl had to admit that sitting in a comfortable carriage with a beautiful woman was an improvement over being beheaded, but he was not quite as enthusiastic about Delinda’s as-yet undisclosed plans for him. Nevertheless, he smiled and inclined his head.
“Each week I will buy a few more, and the ones who have been with me longer can help the newer ones, and eventually the entire estate will be filled with men who can think for themselves,” she explained.
“Will this not be rather expensive?”
“Oh, I have plenty of money,” said Delinda carelessly. “Mother was a sixth generation Rahntadrine, and although she never expected nearly the tribute Bloduewedd demands, we had a home in the fashionable part of Baldorgan and many holdings elsewhere.”
“What do you plan to do with all these independent thinkers?” Jeryl was starting to get interested in this fantastic scheme.
“Well, restore the estate, for one thing,” said Delinda. “As an example to other women that farming can be just as profitable without mistreating slaves. And every time I go into town I will take two or three of them with me, so people can see that treating them with respect and not using the dark rahnta does not mean they will run away.”
“Leading by example is good, but I do not think it will cause anyone to outlaw slavery.”
Men In Chains Page 11
