Mercedes Lackey - Oathbound

"Take her, and take her friend. Put them in the place I prepared for them," Thalhkarsh ordered with a lift of one eyebrow. "And take that and that as well," he indicated the body of Warrl and Kethry's sword Need. "Put them where she can see them until I decide what to do with them. Perhaps, little toy, I shall give the blade to you."

Lastel's hands clenched and unclenched as he attempted to control himself. "Do it, damn you! If you do, I'll use it on you, you bastard!"

"How kind of you to warn me, then. But come -- you wear a new body now, and I wish to see how it differs from the old -- don't you?"

Kethry's last sight of the demon was as he swept Lastel up onto the platform, then she and Tarma were hustled down another brick-lined corridor, and shoved roughly into a makeshift cage that took up the back half of a stone-lined storage room. Warrl's carcass and Need were both dumped unceremoniously on the slate table in front of the cage door.

The room lacked windows entirely, and had only the one door now shut and (from the sounds that had come after her guards had shut it), locked. Light came from a single torch in a holder near the door. The cage was made of crudely-forged iron bars welded across the entire room, with an equally crude door of similar bars that had been padlocked closed. There was nothing whatsoever in the cage; she and Tarma had only what they were wearing, which in Tarma's case was little more than rags, and in hers, the simple shift and breeches Lastel had been wearing. Though she searched, she found no weapons at all.

Tarma sat blank-eyed in the corner of the cage where she'd been left, rocking back and forth and humming tunelessly to herself. The only thing that the demon hadn't changed was her voice; still the ruined parody of what it had been before the slaughter of her Clan.

Kethry went to her and knelt on the cold stone at her side. "Tarma?" she asked, taking her she'enedra's hand in hers and staring into those blank blue eyes.

She got no response for a moment, then the eyes seemed to see her. One hand crept up, and Tarma inserted the tip of her index finger into her mouth.

"Tarma?" the Shin'a'in echoed ingenuously. And that was all of intelligence that Kethry could coax from her; within moments her eyes had gone blank again, and she was back to her rocking and tuneless humming.

Kethry looked from the mindless Tarma to the body of the kyree and back again, slow tears etching their way down her cheeks.

"My god, my god -- " she wept, "Oh, Tarma, you were right! We should have gone for help."

She tried to take her oathkin in her arms, but it was like holding a stiff, wooden doll.

"If I hadn't been so damned sure of myself -- if I hadn't been so determined to prove you were smothering me -- it's all my fault, it's all my fault! What have I done? What has my pride done to you?"

And Tarma rocked and crooned, oblivious to everything around her, while she wept with absolute despair.

You lied to me, you bastard!" Green eyes blazed passionately with anger.

"You didn't listen carefully enough," Thalhkarsh replied to the amber-haired hellion whom he had backed into a corner of his "couch." "I said I would change your form; I never said what I would change it into."

"You never had any intention of changing me back to a man!" Lastel choked, sagging to the padded platform, almost incoherent with rage.

"Quite right." The demon grinned maliciously as he sat himself cross-legged on the padded platform, carefully positioning himself so as to make escape impossible. "Your emotions are strong; you are a potent source of power for me, and an ever-renewable source. I had no intention of letting you free of me while I still need you." He arranged himself more comfortably with the aid of a cushion or two; he had Lastel neatly pinned, and his otherworldly strength and speed would enable him to counter any move the woman made.

"Then when?"

"When shall I release you? Fool, don't you ever think past the immediate moment?" For once the molten-bronze face lost its mocking expression; the glowing red-gold eyes looked frustrated. "Why should you want release? What would you do if I gave you back your previous form -- where would you go? Back to your wastelands, back to misery, back to petty theft? Back to a life with every man's hand against you, having to hide like a desert rat? Is that what you want?"

"I_"

"Fool; blind, stupid fool! Your lust for power is nearly as great as my own, yet you could accomplish nothing by yourself and everything with my aid!" the demon rose to his feet, gesticulating. "Think -- for one moment, think! You are in a mageTalented body now; one in which the currents of arcane power flow strongly. You could have me as a patron. You could have all the advantages of being my own High Prelate when I am made a god! And you wish to throw this all away? Simply because you do not care for the responses of a perfectly healthy and attractive body?"

"But it isn't mine! It's a woman!" Lastel shrank back into the corner, wailing. "I don't want this body -- "

"But I want you in it. I desire you, creature I have made; I want you in a form attractive to me." The demon came closer and placed his hands on the walls to either side of Lastel, effectively rendering her immobile. "Your emotions run so high, and taste so sweetly to me that I sometimes think I shall never release you."

"Why?" Lastel whispered. "Why me, why this? And why here? I thought all your kind hated this world."

"Not I." The demon's eyes smoldered as his expression turned thoughtful. "Your world is beautiful in my eyes; your people have aroused more than my hunger, they have aroused my desire. I want this world, and I want the people in it! And I will have it! Just as I shall have you."

"No -- " Lastel whimpered.

"Then I ask in turn, why? Or why not? What have I done save rouse your own passions? You are well fed, well clothed, well housed -- nor have I ever harmed you physically."

"You're killing me!" Lastel cried, his voice breaking. "You're destroying my identity! Every time you look at me, every time you touch me, I forget what it was ever like, being a man! All I want is to be your shadow, your servant; I want to exist only for you! I never come back to myself until after you've gone, and it takes longer to remember what I was afterward -- longer every time you do this to me."

The demon smiled again with his former cruelty, and brought his lips in to brush her neck. "Then, little toy," he murmured, "perhaps it is something best forgotten?"

* * *

Tarma was lost; without sight, without hearing, without senses of any kind. Held there, and drained weak past any hope of fighting back. So tired -- too tired to fight. Too tired to hope, or even care. Emptied of every passion --

:Wake UP!:

The thin voice in her mind was the first sign that there was any life at all in the vast emptiness where she abode, alone. She strained to hear it again, feeling... something. Something besides the apathy that had claimed her.

:Mind-mate, wake!:

It was familiar. If only she could remember, remember anything at all.

:Wake, wake, wake!:

The voice was stronger, and had the feel of teeth in it. As if something large and powerful was closing fangs on her and shaking her. Teeth --

:In the name of the Star-Eyed!: the voice said, frantically. :You MUST wake!:

Teeth. Star-Eyed. Those things had meant something, before she had become nothing. Had meant something, when she was --

Tarma.

She was Tarma. She was Tarma still, Sworn One, kyree-friend, she'enedra.

Every bit of her identity that she regained brought more tiny pieces back with it, and more strength. She fought off the gray fog that threatened to steal those bits away, fought and held them, and put more and more of herself together, fighting back inch by inch. She was Shin'a'in, of the free folk of the open plains -- she would not be held and prisoned! She -- would -- not -- be -- held!