FRENCHY

by George Olney

  She compared those feelings with the ones he had when he thought of her. She felt he saw her as bright, beautiful, shining and vibrantly alive, someone who formed a perfect complement to him in a way different from that of his bondsmate, but still as intense. She could feel him reaching out to her in his thoughts, wanting against his conscious wishes to build a life with her. There was something holding him back from that desire.

  Again, Frenchy had that feeling of knowing what was in his mind. Something came to her in a nagging little series of thoughts she couldn't pin down, but couldn't deny. She suddenly identified the feeling and realized Grae's bondsmate was still with him, somehow. Frenchy wasn't really sure what was happening, yet, but she knew she'd touched another personality there in Grae's mind. She was certain it was his bondsmate.

  She also sensed some kind of growing link between Grae, herself, and the woman. It was hard to identify, but positively there. Frenchy realized she could feel the woman as a separate entity from Grae, even though she only existed in his thoughts. She was still real and knew Frenchy was sensing her. Frenchy realized the woman knew everything about her that Grae knew, and that she approved of Grae's love for her. Without her approval, it never would have happened. Simply, she liked Frenchy.

  Now that Frenchy had touched her, there was a connection growing between the two of them as warm and strong as her love for Grae. Still, there was a "wrongness". Frenchy knew the love she and Grae had was strong, but there was a barrier there. What had happened to his bondsmate was keeping him from further closeness. The horror and sorrow were driving him to separate himself from Frenchy. Because of a thing he had to do, he was also separating himself from his bondsmate.

  For the first time, she understood the Tribal concept of "wrongness". This thing separating both women from Grae was a wrongness. His bondsmate cried out for relief, but he wasn't going about it the right way. Only with Frenchy and through her could he truly conquer the horror. If he died in the process, his bondsmate would be trapped, incomplete forever. That was something Grae didn't understand, but the growing flow of communication from the woman made it clear to Frenchy. Frenchy realized it was up to her to save both of them.

  The full emotional impact of bonding between man and woman came to her as she rolled those thoughts over in her mind. She realized she had a gut level understanding. She just couldn't put it into words.

  Nonetheless, she tried. "You know," she said, her voice slightly shaken as she rolled her new understanding over in her mind, "I think I begin to get what bonding is all about. When they say you're just two aspects of the same unity, that's actually true. You're not just in love and married, you know each other's thoughts, attitudes and feelings by second nature. Each person's a part of each other. You're there in each other's soul."

  Something told her not to mention her contact with Grae's bondsmate, not even to Grete.

  Grete sat back in her chair and nodded in an abstracted fashion, staring at something unseen in the far distance. "There you have hit on it, lass. The difference in an ordinary marriage and a bonding is simple, yet most profound. A marriage is two people conjoined. When all that is each melds, then is when a bonding takes place and the brands are applied. There is but scant ceremony, save the brands. They are both painful and permanent, a symbol of the joint union that is far more appropriate than an outside observer may at first think. The couple alone may declare bonding, but such is the reverence in which it is held that few do, lest some error be made. It is the one permanent condition of life for these, my people, and a bonded pair is never sundered, in life or in death."

  Frenchy nodded quietly, her voice soft and serious. "And there is the problem."

  Grete looked at her. "Aye, child, therein lies the rub. I can but think Grae goes forth to join his bondsmate in death."

  With Grete's explanation, a lot of indistinct feelings Frenchy was getting about Grae's bondsmate crystallized. With understanding came the full realization she had to prevent that death to save both Grae and his bondsmate. There was still something that had to be done, a thing both sad and necessary, but that was something Frenchy couldn't get clearly in her mind. It would have to wait. Maybe it would clear up as things happened.

  Frenchy looked at Grete steadily and asked a key, painful question she knew she must ask. "If Weykhaz dies before you, what would you do?"

  Grete winced, her face showing pain, but her voice was steady as she answered. "'Tis a thought I like not to think on... not what I should do, but the loss of him who is part of my soul."

  She took a deep, shaky breath and looked down at the brand on her hip, tenderly stroking it with her fingers in an absent minded fashion. Then, after a moment's silence, she looked back at Frenchy in sudden decision. "I have taken from our joint home, the good Earth, an attitude towards life much like that of the Tribes, in that I believe it is for living. I see in you the same thought, now that life has gained in value for you. I would continue to live, painful though that would be, to keep alive that much longer the part of Weykhaz that has become a part of me. For so much do I love him that I would not want to see him totally perish from existence by my death. In further thought, now that I see it, I would think my dear lord would not wish my destruction as an adjunct to his own demise.

  "We are taught, you and I," she continued, "to deal with sorrow and the loss of our loved ones. The Tribes account their own deaths as nothing, a pathway to a greater Beyond. Self-destruction is less than a mote to the pain of living with such a keenly felt loss. It is not the way we were taught, but it is their way. The Tribesfolk feel things much more keenly than others. Perhaps such a loss is intolerable for them."

  She dropped her eyes for a moment then looked back at Frenchy. "And then, perhaps not, under the right circumstances."

  Frenchy hated to ask this next question. "Would Weykhaz..."

  Grete's upraised hand stilled her. "Child, I know what you ask. Would my man take his own life in despair at my passing? I would wish not, and have tried to convince him of the need to keep living. I would wish him a long life and another woman, could he but find one.

  "One that was my measure, if such was possible," she finished with a grin.

  Frenchy grinned back. Her pensive humor was gone, vanishing under Grete's infectious good nature. "I'm not sure anyone like that exists."

  Grete shrugged impishly. "Miracles of nature have happened. Look at the two of us, born distant from each other in ground upon our fair Earth and of different ages set far apart in time, yet we are mother and daughter."

  A light sparkled in Frenchy's eyes. "You know, I never knew where my mother, my birth mother - you're my real one - came from, and things got pretty mixed up among the people that came to America from the Old World. Thing is, I bet we do have a few genes in common. Maybe we are related, after all."

  Grete grinned, and followed the game. "You mean, you inherited from my family - for I had no issue on the Earth - my size, great beauty, intelligence, and wisdom, not to mention our liking for the same kind of men."

  Frenchy giggled, "I'm in full agreement on the last one! Aren't they a pair, though?"

  Grete laughed along with her. "I warn you child, the management of one such is a full time occupation. Had I been less capable, I had not been able to create the fine product that lofts you off your saddle and whisks you safely to the ground. I shall see you do likewise, with my astute counsel."

  In the next few moments of joint laughter, Frenchy felt the last of her tension and worry draining away. Grete, too, was slowly losing the nagging fears that had bothered her since the loss of Grae's bondsmate. Both women were coming to the shared and total belief that together they could change age-old custom for at least one or more Lycanthi.

  Finally, Grete said, "Enough of such foolery, lass. Have you evolved a plan sensible for our undertaking?"

  Frenchy nodded and continued with hopeful enthusiasm. "Maybe I can do it, but we have to find him first. That's not going to be too hard to do." Quic
kly, she explained about her developing mental abilities.

  Grete totally accepted Frenchy's story. "I have heard of such, child. It does not pass understanding that you may be capable of it. In truth, it makes the beginning of our work far easier."

  Frenchy grimaced slightly. "That's not the real problem. Maev and I don't want to go after him without some help. Do you think you could get Weykhaz to go with us, help tackle the smugglers?"

  Grete thought hard at that one. "You set me no easy undertaking, lass. He has firmly stated his opposition to interfering with the course Grae has set, respectful of custom and our son's circumstances. However, know you that, if you get one, you get both of us. A married or bonded Tribesman fights not alone, but with his mate backing him as a team. That is why all of our women learn the rifle nearly from the cradle. When a man goes to battle, his woman keeps unwelcome distractions from his rear."

  Frenchy nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. I was planning to help Grae, anyhow. Now he's going to have to let me do it. As far as I'm concerned, I'm his mate and custom says I fight alongside him."

  Grete raised her eyebrows. "Are you that far along together, now?"

  Frenchy said, "He gave me his sword to keep in Tokhaz. Maev said that's a sign of marriage status."

  Grete nodded. "Surely it is. Therefore I think we have an excellent chance of success once we find him, since he has acknowledged you his life's mate.

  "Weykhaz will see the purpose in our cause," she continued. "My man is not so bound in a rigid cast of thought that sweet reason will not pry its way into his admittedly solid head for the betterment of all concerned. Thus, girl, we will fight our first battle together with him both as the opposition and the goal."

  #####

  As the shadows began to deepen towards evening, Grae set his gort to grazing on the hillside and began the chores of making camp. Later, he sat near the fire and watched the sun set across the wasteland of the Barrens, feeling once again the love of this rocky, arid land that was so much a part of his being.

  Sunset was good, but night was not a time he welcomed. There were too many dreams. There was nothing to keep his mind from thinking about the conflict between his purpose and what was rapidly becoming something he wanted badly. She who was gone but not dead came back at night, to torture him with her fate. There was going to be a blood reckoning for that, a part of which had already been taken. But there was still a thing needing doing, and one he dreaded more than anything else in his existence.

  His mind drifted to Frenchy, his golden woman. Chuckling, he mentally compared her with Grete, his mother. He'd never realized it before, but his father had a singularly stable temperament. If living with Mother was anything like living with Frenchy, it was certainly never dull. Frenchy brought more vibrancy into his life than he'd ever experienced. With slight surprise, he realized his bondsmate would like her. The two were very different women, but would get along well.

  Suddenly, he realized he was thinking of her that was gone but not dead without the usual pain. Frenchy had done that for him. It had made her that was gone more alive, too. In an odd sort of way, Frenchy was healing his deepest hurt. This, he decided, was something to think about in much more detail.

  Idly, he wondered how Frenchy and Maev were getting along. He was pretty sure they'd settled their differences by now, and settled them Frenchy's way, if he knew his blonde bombshell.

  A moment later, he realized she was thinking of him. He could feel her. That was something else he'd only felt with one other woman. Again, it was a fact that needed much deeper thought. He just gave himself up to the warm glow of feeling her. It made the night easier to take.

  #####

  Maev was enjoying herself.

  On finally reaching their rooms, she'd caught up with Evan and promptly let him know she was fully capable of hauling her own weight, thank you. The resulting chatter and bickering as they put their gear away turned out to be fun, more fun than she'd had in a while. Maev thought with a giggle that any casual listener would go nuts trying to follow the give and take, given Evan's laconic, absent minded, slightly askew method of speech. On the other hand, she had no trouble with the conversation.

  She decided she was enjoying bickering with this guy more than chasing sex with any of the young bucks she usually pursued. A thought struck her. Maybe this was what Frenchy meant when she talked about companionship with a man. With Evan, it was certainly turning out to be one of the better times she'd ever had.

  Still happily tossing conversational barbs back and forth, they went to the main dining room for a meal. She knew the place well, since it was an old hunting ground. Most of the unattached people in the Hold ate there in preference to cooking in their apartments. Not only was it a good place to meet men, the food wasn't bad, either. Everything was shaping up for an enjoyable evening when Allurra strolled casually, sensuously, past the table. Evan forgot what he was saying and stared a moment. Maev nearly broke a tooth on her fork. The look Allurra flashed back over her shoulder told Maev plainly that she was perfectly aware of the reactions provoked in both of the table's occupants.

  Suddenly, Maev decided to do something she never thought she would ever do. She leaned forward and said quietly to Evan, "Hey, bub, you be careful of that one. She chases every guy she can catch, just for the fun of it. Men don't mean anything to her except a moment's enjoyment."

  Evan shot her a look of mild surprise, then commented, "You know, that sounds just like someone else I happen to be familiar with."

  Maev had the good grace to blush. Flustered, she barged on, "So, okay, I guess I was a little casual in my relationships."

  Evan's expression plainly said he considered that last comment a generous understatement.

  Maev looked away for a moment. In a soft voice she said, "I guess a girl can change. Frenchy said it's part of growing up. Maybe I'm growing up, but I'm not that way anymore. At least, not with some guys."

  Before Evan could pursue that statement, what was to Maev a highly unwelcome voice broke in with soft feminine tones. "Mind if I sit down?"

  To Maev's total disgust, it was Princess Allurra, closing in for the kill. Evan looked at her in his absent fashion and waved vaguely at one of the table's two empty chairs. "Um, yeah, sure. Come on and join us. Got a free place to sit."

  Allurra flowed into the empty chair, her attention entirely on Evan. Both women were conscious of the fact that she was totally ignoring Maev as though she didn't exist. "You're new here," Allurra said, resting her elbows on the table and propping her chin on her clasped hands in a graceful gesture that was as charming as it was calculated. "I thought I ought to come over and say hello. Welcome you to the Hold. I'm Princess Allurra."

  Evan looked quizzically confused for a moment. "Princess?" he asked, giving the air of some college professor puzzled by an unfamiliar social custom. "Didn't know the Tribes ran to kings and such."

  Allurra's laughter was the tinkling of bells. "Oh, not like that. We no longer have hereditary chiefs, but the titles do remain. Father's the hereditary Chief of the Bitter Water Tribe. That makes me a Princess.

  "Of course," she said with elaborate modesty, "that really doesn't make me anything special, but it does give me a title."

  "Oh," Evan said as he turned back to his food, "thought you were royalty. Nice custom, though."

  Maev noticed Allurra's quickly stifled look of irritation. She smiled broadly at the realization that Evan was giving her the full treatment. She decided to settle down and watch the master at work. Allurra was in for a rough time as far as her ego was concerned. Now if Evan would only tell her to get lost!

  Evan didn't however. Allurra decided it was time to try another tack, since royalty didn't seem to impress this guy. "Is this your first visit to a Freehold?"

  Evan nodded absently. "First time here."

  Seeing her opening, Allurra dived in. "Well, we can be very friendly. I'll be more than happy to show you just how friendly."

  Evan looked
up, glanced at her, and shook his head. "Nope, not interested. Got other things to do while I'm here."

  Allurra's sweet smile turned suddenly savage. "Surely you don't mean with this piece of secondhand goods?" she snarled, waving at Maev. "She's been in every bed between here and Port Baleth, and shows it!"

  Maev had all she could do to keep her tongue silent. Custom demanded she remain silent, no matter what Allurra said. She had no permission to reply to that attack or the others she knew were coming. Evan, however, took up the challenge for her.

  At least, he did in his own sort of way.

  With a slightly spaced air and absent little smile, he shrugged. "Well, I like her."

  Allurra didn't know what to make of that reply at first then she realized the laconic Evan had just shut her down in four words. He was rejecting her for Maev.

  Maev was both shocked and surprised at the simple little declaration. Then she simply glowed. For Evan, that was a heated speech avowing wildest passion. He was also telling Allurra to shut up and get lost.

  Allurra wasn't about to give up. She glared at Maev, who returned the compliment. "She's handy, I'll give you that," she hissed, "not to mention well used."

  Maev blushed. She felt about ready to explode.

  "Maev," a strong contralto voice said, "you don't have to put up with that crap."

  Allurra turned to do battle with the newcomer and found herself looking up, and up, at a pair of hard blue eyes. The imposing blonde Amazon that owned those eyes towered over the girl like a massive Greek sculpture and, at that moment, was just about as cold. Allurra stifled a tiny squeak and bucked up her courage. She was caught at a tactical disadvantage, and knew it, but was gamely ready to continue the fight. Another husky contralto voice from behind her changed those plans. "Well, daughter, it seems the local nuisance has reappeared."

  Allurra spun around in her seat and found herself again looking up at another Amazon that was just as big, just as curvy, just as blonde and, if possible, just as cold. Things, she decided, were just not looking good.