of forgetting about him again."
"Lady Bright, not bloody likely!" Tarma shud-
dered. "We'll be getting messages from the Temple
every two months, like clockwork; that was part of
the agreement I made with little Nemor. Huh, think
of him as archpriest—seems logical now, but he
sure doesn't look the part."
"Until he puts on the authority. I could almost
feel sorry for old Thalhkarsh. I can't imagine a
worse punishment for a demon than to have sweet-
ness-and-light preached at him for as long as he
lives—which might well be forever."
"And besides—" Tarma smiled, getting up with
a muffled groan and another grimace, and walking
over to the window. She leaned out, letting the
breeze lift her hair and cool her face. "Who knows?
They might succeed in redeeming him...."
"Tarma—all this—we both nearly died. I would
have died with a broken promise to you on my
soul."
Kethry paused for a long moment, so long that
Tarma was afraid she wasn't going to finish what
she had begun to say.
She turned from looking out the window to re-
gard her partner soberly, knowing that Kethry had
something troubling her gravely. Even Warrl looked
up from where he lay on Tarma's bed, ears pricked
and eyes unfathomable. Finally Kethry sighed and
continued.
"I guess what I want to ask you is this. Do you
want me—us—to stop this wandering? To go back
to the Plains? After all, it's me that's been keeping
us on the road, not you. I—haven't found any man
I'd care to spend more than a night or two with, but
that really doesn't matter to my promise. It doesn't
take liking to get children. Oh, hell, there's always
Justin and Ikan, I do like them well enough to share
a bed with them for a bit. And once we had some
children, I could keep myself in practice easily
enough. I could establish a White Winds school
even without the cash—I'm getting close enough to
Adept to do that now. I'd rather have better cir-
cumstances to do that than we have right now, but
I could scrape along. We certainly have the reputa-
tion now to attract good pupils."
Tarma turned back to gaze up at the waning
moon, troubled. It was true that the most important
thing in the world to her was the re-founding of her
slaughtered Clan—and they had nearly died with-
out being any closer to that goal.
There were times when she longed for the tents
of her people and the open Plains with all her soul.
And there were other negatives to this life they
were leading. There was no guarantee something
like this couldn't happen again. Being gang-raped,
or so she suspected, had been the least of the un-
speakable things she'd suffered unaware in Thalh-
karsh's hands.
Far worse was the absence of the Star-Eyed's
presence in her soul when she'd returned to her-
self. And when her goddess had not returned to her
with Thalhkarsh's transformation, she'd been afraid
for a moment that the Warrior would not take her
back with her celibacy violated.
That had turned out to be a foolish fear, as her
priest-friend had proved to her. No sooner had he
cleansed her of the last of Thalhkarsh's magic-
bindings, then she felt the Warrior's cool and sup-
portive presence once again in her heart; the asexual
psychic armor of the Sword Sworn closed around
her again, and she could regard the whole experi-
ence as something to learn and benefit from. She
was heart-whole and healed again—in spirit if not
in body.
Still, none of this would have happened if they'd
returned to the Plains; in the very home of the
Goddess of the Four Winds the demon would have
been powerless, no matter what he had claimed;
the bandit would never have made his way past the
Outer Clans. And—Warrior's Oath, how Tarma
longed to see the Tale'sedrin banner flying above a
full encampment, with bright-faced children within
and fat herds without. Kethry's wandering feet had
nearly caused their deaths this time, and Tale'sedrin
had nearly died with them. And her Clan, as for
any Shin'a'in, was the most important thing in
Tarma's life.
But no, it wasn't the most important thing, not
anymore. Not if Kethry was going to be made a
captive to see that dream achieved. A willing cap-
tive she would be, perhaps, but still a captive.
Kethry had been right—she had been stifling her
friend, and with the best of intentions. She had
been putting invisible hobbles on her, or trying to.
Her Shin'a'in soul rebelled at the notion—"You
do not hobble your hound, your horse, your hawk,
your lover, or your she'enedren," went the saying,
"love must live free." A prisoner was a prisoner, no
matter how willingly the bonds were taken. And
how truly Shin'a'in could Kethry be, bound? And if
she were not Shin'a'in in her heart, how could her
children follow the Clan-ways with whole spirits?
And yet—and yet—there remained Kethry's oath,
and her dream. If Kethry died .. .
She closed her eyes and emptied her heart, and
hoped for an answer.
And miraculously, one came.
A tiny breath of chill wind wafted out of the
north, and coiled around her body, enclosing her in
silence. And in that silence, an ageless voice spoke
deep in her soul.
What is your Clan but your sister? Trust in her as
your left-hand blade, as she trusts in you, and you shall
keep each other safe.
Tarma's heart lifted and she turned back to face
her partner with a genuine smile.
"What, and turn you into 'another Shin'a'in brood
mare'? Come now, she'enedra, we treat our stock
better than that! A warsteed mates when she is
ready, and not before. Surely you don't reckon your-
self as less than Hellsbane!" Tarma's smile turned
wicked. "Or should I start catching handsome young
men and parading them before you to tempt your
appetite. . . ?"
Kethry laughed with mingled chagrin and relief,
blushing hotly.
"Perhaps I ought to begin a collection, hmm?
That's what we do for our warsteeds, you know,
present them with a whole line of stallions until
one catches their fancy. Shall I start a picket line
for you ? Or would you rather I acquired a house of
pleasure and stocked the rooms so that you could
try their paces at your leisure before choosing?"
Kethry rolled up into the covers to hide her
blushes, still laughing.
Tarma joined the laughter, and limped back to
her own bed, blowing out their candle and falling
into the eiderdowns to find a dreamless and heal-
ing sleep.
For there were going to be tomorrows,
she was
sure of that now—and they'd better be in shape to
be ready for them.
Vows And Honor Book 1: The Oathbound Page 38