Keeper of the Heart

by Johanna Lindsey

  Donilla glanced at Shanelle and got an I-told-you-so look before she spoke to the caller again. “Hasn’t anyone done what they’re supposed to?”

  “I doubt it, general. They’re just too huge to get near—and they’re armed with swords nearly as big as I am.”

  “All right, where are you?”

  “In your building. Wherever they arrived, they encountered some of our men and forced them to bring them here to the one in charge. They’re already on the way to your office, and at the rate they’re getting answers without hardly trying, they could be on the way to your sister’s quarters before you can get here.”

  “I’m leaving now, but in the meantime, lock up that building, then go to my office and make sure they don’t leave it. Tell them I’ll be there in ten minutes to speak to them, tell them anything you have to, but keep them there. And have enough women prepared to go in with me when I arrive. We’ll have to use the rods simultaneously since they’ve come en masse, and that’s not going to be easy.” She dropped the cube back in her pocket and turned to Lanar as she stood up to leave. “You better hide her, just in case.”

  Shanelle wished Donilla had sounded more encouraging before she departed. And being left with Lanar was not Shanelle’s idea of feeling safe. The woman continued to eat her dinner, as if nothing had happened.

  “Shouldn’t I leave these rooms in case something goes wrong and Falon finds out where to look for me?” Shanelle suggested.

  “Nonsense—but if you’re that worried about it, you can use my own sanctuary. It’s right through that door behind you. Just lock it from the other side. The door is specially made, you know. Not even a seven-foot barbarian could break it down.”

  The humor in Lanar’s voice set Shanelle’s teeth on edge. There wasn’t a damn thing funny about this situation.

  She thought it prudent to warn, “If he finds me, our deal will be off. No gaali stones.”

  Lanar nodded thoughtfully. “Naturally. But tell me, if he finds you—will he punish you for running away from him?”

  Shanelle’s lips turned down bitterly. “He’ll consider it his duty.”

  “Well, then, what are you waiting for? Or haven’t you realized yet that when Doni said it wasn’t going to be easy to use the rods simultaneously, she meant it was next to impossible?”

  Shanelle stood and headed for the closed door, missing the malicious spite that flared in Lanar’s eyes as soon as she stepped into the room and the door closed behind her. She didn’t turn to lock it, however. She was too startled at finding other people in the small room.

  Two men sat cross-legged on the floor against the wall in front of her. Between them was a horizontal post supported some three feet off the floor, and another three feet away from the wall. About four feet up the wall were attached metal cuffs. To either side of these hung an assortment of whips, long coiled ones and multi-strapped ones. She knew now where the slaves had received their welts. And Lanar called this her sanctuary? Very funny.

  Both men had stood up while she stared at the implements of punishment. Shanelle didn’t even acknowledge them. She turned to leave—and found that the door hadn’t needed locking. It had locked automatically.

  “Another new one, and already you’ve been sent here?” one of the men said behind her. “You girls ought to know better than to get into trouble before you even settle in.”

  Shanelle glanced over her shoulder to see that they were approaching her. “I—I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

  “Sure, that’s what they all say.”

  She decided not to argue and tried the door again. It was definitely locked. And then a hand slid down her arm to her wrist and pulled it behind her. She turned, intending to wallop the jerk—both men were several inches shorter than she—only she was stopped when her other hand was grabbed and twisted behind her back by the other man.

  “None of that now,” she was warned when she tried to pull away from them. “You think we don’t know how to deal with that?” And her arms were twisted up higher behind her back. The men were able to move her easily that way, despite her size. “We’re only going to prepare you. The mistress will do the punishing herself.”

  “Lanar?”

  “That’s Mistress Lanar to you, girl. You’re damn impertinent for a slave.”

  “Wait a minute! I told you you’ve made a mistake, and you have!”

  “Sure, that’s what they all say.”

  Chapter 27

  “Look, why don’t you guys just sit down and relax?” one of the two women standing anxiously by the door told the warriors. “The general will be here any minute now.”

  The woman didn’t get an answer. Well, she did, but not a verbal one. One of the warriors lifted his foot to the seat of a chair, brought his foot down on its center, and the chair flattened on the floor in a number of pieces.

  “All right, so don’t sit,” the other woman said. “But could you stop prowling around? You’re making us nervous.”

  “Then best you leave,” another warrior said disagreeably.

  “Better we leave,” a third warrior said. “We only waste time here.”

  “No, now, don’t be hasty,” the woman told this warrior. “Only the general can tell you what you want to know, but you’ll miss her if you go.”

  He was through listening. He took a step toward them. The other woman didn’t hesitate to lift a gun and point it at him.

  “All right, hold it right there!” she ordered, feeling a moment of heady power.

  But the warrior didn’t stop, and she very quickly panicked. The gun fired. The long shield he held before one arm moved slightly and the bullet struck it, then dropped harmlessly to the floor. Both women stared at the bullet in horror. The one with the gun fired again. Again the bullet ended bent and useless on the floor.

  “You won’t be so lucky with this, buster,” the second woman claimed. She was holding a short blue rod in her hand, pointed straight at the warrior. He stopped this time.

  Her friend hissed at her, “What do you think you’re doing with that?”

  “It’s working, isn’t it?” she whispered triumphantly.

  “Only because they probably think you’re deranged,” was the reply.

  “Nonsense, they think it’s a weapon.” And then in a louder voice so the warriors could hear her, she said, “I’m sorry, guys, but we can’t have you running around town frightening our people half to death with the mere sight of you. We were told to make sure you’re here when the general arrives, so have a little patience, will you?”

  “Dalden, what is that she threatens me with?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, Jadell. It is my sister who knows of other worlds and their strange wonders, not I.” But then Dalden pointed his computer-link unit at the woman holding the rod. “Brock?”

  “Unknown as a weapon,” the computer answered without needing a full question. “But according to the women’s whispered words, which I could hear quite clearly, they are satisfied that you think it is a weapon. So probables says it is not, yet does it still give them courage.”

  The two women looked around and behind them for the invisible spy who could have heard them. To their relief, they found instead that the general was coming swiftly down the hallway at last, with four more women hurrying to keep up with her.

  “I am General Vand, gentlemen,” Donilla announced as she walked into the room. “If no one has done so, let me welcome you to Sunder.”

  The biggest among them moved to stand in front of her. He was nearly two feet taller than she was and twice as wide, with arms the size of her legs, in length as well as in thickness. She tried to swallow, but her throat had gone suddenly dry. Even knowing what to expect hadn’t prepared her for the sheer size of these Sha-Ka’ani warriors.

  “I am Dalden Ly-San-Ter,” the one towering over her stated. “Do you tell us where my sister is, we will leave here peaceably with her. If not, then must we tear your town apart in search of h
er.”

  Nothing like coming right to the point. Donilla didn’t feel particularly brave at this moment, but she had information they wanted which gave her a slight advantage—hopefully enough for what she was going to attempt.

  She pulled herself together and said authoritatively, “Thank you for making that perfectly clear, Mr. Ly-San-Ter. But custom decrees that we must dispense with protocol first, before we can discuss your sister. You do understand customs, don’t you? I’m sure you have some of your own that you insist visitors to your planet honor.”

  “Indeed, yet—”

  “Come, now, I’m not talking about anything difficult or time-consuming. It’s traditional for all visitors to meet my council of advisors. Merely introduce yourselves to them, shake their hands— possibly assure them you are here only on a family matter. You see, very simple. Ladies?” Donilla glanced around to find that the four women she had brought with her who had Altering rods hidden up their sleeves were nervously remaining outside the room. “Oh, do come in,” she ordered impatiently. “They won’t bite.” And to Dalden, she said, “Which of your friends is the eager bridegroom?”

  She followed his gaze to Falon, who merely stood there frowning at the lot of them. He would have to be the most intimidating of the group. He was a few inches shorter than Shanelle’s brother, but what was a few inches when you were dealing with giants. Fortunately, the other women had come forward and were each extending a hand to greet a warrior. Donilla palmed her Altering rod, as the other women had been instructed to do, and walked toward Falon.

  Falon had been relieved to be on solid ground again until he found he would be dealing with people so alien to him in their size. It was difficult not to equate them with children, they were so small. Even their voices lacked the appropriate depth of an adult’s. He certainly could not fight them. He could not even threaten them without feeling like a fool. And worse, the females of these tiny people had the authority here.

  The little one called general was bold, he had to allow. When he had not accepted her offered hand for greeting, as his men were doing with the other women, she had reached forward and grasped his hand to mumble her words. He had not paid attention. He was watching the other women and the strangeness in their identical gestures and phrases.

  “Falon, ah—I hesitate to ask this, but what are we doing here?” Jadell asked in Sha-Ka’ani.

  Falon turned toward his brother with an incredulous look. The woman standing in front of Jadell was still holding his hand and smiling up at him. Falon began to scowl.

  “What did she say to you, Jadell?” Falon demanded.

  “Nothing.”

  “She spoke words. They all did. I heard them.”

  “Then you have better hearing than I, for I heard nothing,” Jadell replied.

  “And yet now you ask why we are here? Something is not right, brother.”

  “I agree. I feel I should know the answer, but I do not. Dalden?”

  The younger man colored slightly. One of his hands was still being held by a Sunderian woman. “I had hoped I would not have to admit I am as forgetful as you, Jadell. Stars, it makes no sense. Falon, if you know—”

  “So you would have me believe you have forgotten your own sister?” Falon asked. “And you, Jadell, that I am here to find my lifemate?”

  “Droda, I was told to forget that!” Jadell exploded. “The voice was inside my head—” He yanked his hand from the woman’s grasp and glared at her as she backed away from him. “What did you do to me?” he demanded in Sunderian.

  Her mouth moved, but she was too terrified for words to come out. The other women were also backing toward the door, looking just as frightened. Only the general stood her ground next to Falon, more confused than fearful, even when his eyes came back to her narrowed in anger.

  “It didn’t work on you, did it?” Donilla asked. “It worked on them, but not on you. How is that possible?”

  “He does not understand a word you are saying, General Vand,” Dalden said, having moved to her other side. “You see, my friend here does not trust anything that is alien to Sha-Ka’an. It was bad enough that he had to travel on a Droda-cursed spaceship, as he put it, and be subjected to Transferring, which he hates above all things, but he flatly refused to listen to the Sublims on your language that Brock made for us, even though that refusal would leave Falon at a disadvantage down here. Does that answer your question?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Now do you tell us what did not work on him that did work on the rest of us.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to explain. Only women are allowed the secret—”

  “Brock?” Dalden interrupted impatiently.

  “Some type of hypnotic device that each woman held concealed as she touched you, and which had you accept her words as reality. You were each told the same thing, to forget why you were here. But you, Falon, were told one other thing, that you do not want a lifemate.”

  Falon growled low and immediately lifted Donilla up by the front of her uniform jacket. That he did this with only one hand and kept her dangling like that, two feet off the floor, told Donilla that whatever they had just been told, it was now time for her to be seriously afraid.

  “Speak for me, Dalden,” Falon ordered in a tightly controlled tone, “and make her understand that she lives only because she is not a man.”

  “Brock has told us what you attempted to do, General Vand. Falon, of course, would be within his rights to kill you for trying to interfere with his duty, yet does your sex save you from that. But best you know that he is angry enough to overlook that if you still try to prevent him from finding his chosen mate. Where is she?”

  “I—I can’t tell you that,” Donilla said apprehensively. “We have agreed to give her sanctuary, and she does not wish to be found by him.”

  “She has no choice in the matter,” Dalden replied. “Our father gave her into this man’s protection. That gives Falon all rights over her.”

  “But who protects her from him?”

  “She does not need protection from her lifemate. He would never harm her.”

  “You waste your time, Dalden,” Brock interjected at that point. “The woman is hindered by a code of honor that will not allow her to betray Shanelle, and now it is not needful. I have scanned the immediate area that would have allowed General Vand to reach here in the time she did, and have located a female who matches Shanelle’s voice pattern, though she speaks in Sunderian—and in a manner that would indicate she is extremely fearful of an immediate threat.”

  “Immediate threat, or is she merely aware of our arrival?” Dalden questioned.

  “Immediate. Her demand to be released by a ‘sawed-off little jerk’ was what led me to her. It is amazing how much she sounds like your mother sometimes.”

  “How much danger is she actually in, Brock?”

  “Enough to send her emotions near the panic level. Do you Transfer now—or does Falon?”

  “I do,” Falon said without hesitation, and in the next moment Donilla dropped to the floor as he vanished.

  A moment later above the planet, Martha invaded Brock’s housing for a change. “It took you long enough, sludgebucket,” she complained in annoyance. “I could have done that ten minutes ago.”

  “You followed them down when I Transferred them to Sunder’s surface, didn’t you?” Brock demanded indignantly.

  “Of course I did.”

  “And you found Shanelle the same way I did?”

  “Certainly—only sooner,” Martha purred.

  “Then why did you not Transfer her out of there yourself?” Brock asked.

  “For the same reason you didn’t. We aren’t going to head home until those two get together. Besides, I owed the big guy one.”

  “Shanelle will not appreciate how you pay your debts,” Brock predicted.

  “Not today she won’t, but I’m betting on the future.”

  Chapter 28

  It took
Falon a bit longer than the actual Transfer to assure himself that he was in one piece in the new location. He would never get used to that Droda-cursed mode of traveling, and prayed he would not have to. Nor had he expected to have to experience it again, except once more to return to the ship. Yet he had welcomed the Transferring this time for its speed, for he would have gone mad if he could not reach Shanelle when she had need of his protection and he knew of that need. But now that he was there and faced with her predicament, he was not sure if he had someone to kill—or to thank.

  Her wrists were cuffed to the wall in front of her. Her ankles were spread wide and strapped to the supports of a round post that she was bent over. Her clothing had been removed. It could not be more obvious that she had been prepared for a whipping.

  Two men stood behind and slightly to the left of her, dispassionately observing their handiwork. That there were no marks on Shanelle’s body was the only reason Falon moved up silently behind them and merely smashed their heads together. They dropped to the floor at his feet. That easily they were dismissed from his thoughts, and he stepped over them to stand directly behind the woman he had braved the horrors of space travel to find.

  Shanelle didn’t know he was there. She was listening for the door to open. The soft thumps on the floor as the Sunderians dropped had hardly penetrated her frantic thoughts.

  Lanar had to be crazy. She didn’t dare actually whip her. And yet she had gone this far—what if she was crazy? Who was there to stop her if so? Those two idiot males acted like low-budget androids, programmed to do one thing and one thing only. And they’d done it, stripped her and bound her securely, and nothing else. They hadn’t touched her again. They hadn’t even spoken to her after they finished strapping her in—except to tell her the waiting was part of it.

  Part of what? The punishment? Torture was what it was, to stand there bent over, exposed, those farden whips on the wall the only things she could see—and remember the ugly red marks on the slave girls’ legs, to know that women did get whipped in this very room, and were made to wait for it, and agonize during the waiting ...