She woke curled under Martel's arm. The soreness from the waxing had worn off, leaving only the familiar twinges from Elondelle's switch, but she ignored them as she admired her husband. For over a decedonner she'd been waking and dressing alone, but last night brought an end to their awkward arrangements as they finally consummated their marriage. For the first time since her arrest at the Men's Gathering, she looked forward to the day.

When he slept, the stress lines disappeared, changing him back into the man she'd met when she first came to Demeter. They'd lost their original selves so quickly as a result of her trial and sentence that she no longer clearly remembered either the handsome and helpful trade minister or the overeager sociologist. "I'm his wife," she whispered, meaning it for the first time. No matter what she thought about his planet or its customs, last night she'd finally allowed her body to express both her desire and gratitude.

Leaning over, she pressed her lips to his eyelids, then moved to his mouth, her tongue tracing the line between his lips. He woke quickly with the same surprised look as when she'd reached for him the previous night. Could he still not believe she wanted him?

She kissed him hard and he reached for her immediately, letting his fingers play across her smooth mound, then tickle between her legs. While she'd never admit it to Elondelle, she actually liked the novelty of his hands touching the hairless skin, as if she'd come to him as something new, different from the woman who'd made love to the Professor and other men.

This time he found his way into her quickly, their bodies discovering natural ways to fit together. Afterwards they lay together in a tousled heap, watching the two suns grow higher in the sky. Finally he gave her a last hug and stood up. "I wish I could take off today and tomorrow so that we could finally have a proper honeymoon. But things are still difficult at the office."

Janys refrained from asking for details, knowing any problems undoubtedly stemmed from publicity about her case and pending appeal. "Not even a half day?" she teased.

He looked away. "I have arranged to do so on the afternoon of Karala. Now I need to spend the next two days preparing for that time away."

Despite the warmth of the quilt, she shivered. Although she'd pushed the thought out of her mind since the previous morning, she knew Martel referred to her upcoming forbinner. On Karala, the same hands that had just given her such pleasure would mete out severe punishment…

"What are you going to do today?" he asked gently. "Now that I have cancelled the lessons with my mother, you finally have time for yourself."

Wrenching her thoughts away from the forbinner, she tried to think. "First I'll take care of the housework." Thank God she would no longer have to worry about Yagote using that as an excuse to check up on them. "Then figure out what to do about dinner."

"You mean we need something more than fruit and bread tonight?" he grinned.

"Maybe we can keep the same appetizer and dessert courses.". While the impending punishment still lay heavily on her mind, she couldn't bring herself to draw back from Martel.

They ate huge breakfasts, laughing as he brushed crumbs off of her nose. Only as he kissed her good-bye did Martel again turn serious. "I will ask stop by and ask Shalimerie to come over tomorrow. Or perhaps you would prefer going to her house. There are things you should know about what will happen on Karala, and you might prefer hearing them from her."

"All right," she replied somberly. As soon as he left, she buried herself in cleaning, the same way she'd once used compiling reports to keep from thinking about things bothering her. However by midday she'd put everything in order. What had Shalimerie mentioned about working as a teacher? Although she enjoyed this oasis of unstructured time, Janys knew she had to find something else to fill her days.

Still it was fun testing her new cooking skills without anyone looking over her shoulder. he experimented with a few herbs she'd never seen before, creating a unique pot roast. Fortunately she timed it for later after his arrival as their hunger for each other exceeded their interest in food, significantly lengthening the normal interval between homecoming and dining.

The next day Shalimerie showed up while Janys was changing the bed linens. "I know Martel said you might come visit, but my mother arrived last night to stay with Chardontal for a few days. If you want to get outside, we can go walking or shopping, but I thought it would be easier starting from here."

Again Shalimerie's voice tensed up when speaking about her mother. Janys wondered if her friend would share the story, which she gathered hinged on the decision of a Lycarta daughter to marry a Wyteen man. After all, Martel had urged her to inquire about Shalimerie's courtship with his brother.

But today again different things dominated the agenda. The other woman bobbed her head with laughter as she flicked a glance at the soiled sheets. "I bet Kronitin I knew why Martel looked so happy, but he said it seemed unlikely. Something about problems with Elondelle? Anyway, I am very glad to see I was right after all."

Janys blushed slightly, though she probably would have revealed the story herself. She thought briefly of trying to swear her friend to secrecy, but realized it wouldn't work. Martel would eventually tell his brother, then Shalimerie would be punished for withholding information. Besides, did she care if Elondelle and Yagote knew about the change in her marriage? While she didn't want Elondelle to believe her interference had brought it about, she wouldn't mind seeing Yagote's face when she realized Janys's marriage was no longer in name only.

They chose to go walking, with Shalimerie leading her to one of the few streams cutting through the arid countryside. The two women sat on the bank and dangled their feet in the warm, slow water. "Our version of a hot tub," Shalimerie commented, kicking drops towards Janys. "One time after I had just taken my bath, Chardontal spit up milk all over me. Waiting three days before another washing seemed unbearable, so that night I sneaked down here after Kronitin and the baby had gone to sleep. I took off my tunic and laid back in the water, looking up at the sky."

"Sounds heavenly." How wonderful it would be to lie back and let the water flow over her body, dissolving all the aches and soreness.

"Yes," Shalimerie sighed. "It was. At least until Mistress Donawirt reported to Kronitin she saw me naked in the stream, after I had taken such care to dry my hair before I returned to his bed.".

Janys remembered the rat-faced woman who'd made life so unpleasant for Mistress Plettigan the day of the trial. "What did he do?"

"What do you think?" her friend countered. "He asked Alicitia to look after Chardontal, then he brought me down here. Down the way you can sit on an old log while the stream runs over your toes. Before I knew it, he had my prander off, then he put me over his lap and splashed water over my bottom before spanking me. Every once in a while he'd scoop up more and pour it on. Let me tell you, wet skin makes even a bare palm sting like crazy."

"And you forgave him?" Janys tried to imagine how she'd act if Martel punished her that way.

"Of course!" Shalimerie laughed. "He was right. Except for discipline, we have laws against public nudity. If Mistress Donawirt had taken the matter to Council, he would have been forced to cane me. His way was much more appropriate. Besides, Chardontal could have needed something, and Kronitin would not have known where to find me."

She reached down and lobbed a small stone across the water. "But now that Chardontal has become old enough for his father to take care of in emergencies, I still come down some nights. I am just careful not to be seen."

"I don't understand," Janys confessed. "I don't see how you can talk so easily about being punished. Or why it doesn't affect the way you feel about your husband. For that matter, I can't imagine deliberately breaking a rule knowing someone would want to cane me for it."

"Oh, there are a few rules that scream to be broken." Shalimerie tossed another rock after the first. "Those that are silly. Such as bathing nude in a remote place at night, or suffering scars rather than applying balms. Or only falling in love with people from your own little community. And most punishments are endurable, at least when fairly given. When I step over the line, I know exactly what will happen, so I have no reason to get upset over it."

"As for loving Kronitin—I would think by now you would have noticed one type of attention to our posteriors often leads to a more enjoyable kind. After Kronitin hauled me out of the water that time, we spent quite a while longer lying under that tree." She pointed towards one so large its roots reached into the creek bed. "Fortunately, Mistress Donawirt did not come by."

They chatted some more about Mistress Donawirt, who seemed like Yagote's honorary twin sister in her ability to stir up trouble. Finally Shalimerie brought the subject back to the one Janys dreaded. "With all this talk of bathing, I hope tomorrow morning you plan to take a full one."

"No, not really." Confused, Janys stared at her friend. "I had one yesterday, so I'm not permitted another until the day afterwards."

"But you are having a forbinner tomorrow afternoon," Shalimerie pointed out gently. "Most people bathe immediately beforehand, knowing they will not feel like it for several days thereafter."

"Oh." She'd never even considered that might be one of the consequences. Wrapping her arms around her damp legs, she hugged herself. Despite everything Shalimerie told her, she couldn't imagine calmly lying down on the spanking table to receive the worst whipping of her life, much less wanting the man who delivered it to touch her afterwards.

"Janys, have you ever asked Martel how he intends to carry out your punishment?" Her friend's eyes shimmered with concern.

"Not really." As a matter of fact, she'd been more than content to let the topic stay fuzzy and unreal. But with Shalimerie bringing up practical points affecting her immediate future, she supposed she needed to find out more.

"I know he intends to use the spanking table his parents gave us for a wedding gift," she added. "Also, the day we were married he showed me all the areas of the body where a husband may punish a wife. He said something about my bottom and thighs being adequate for most purposes except this one."

Shalimerie patted her knee. "I am glad, my love, that you know more than your backside will be affected this time. Martel has told me how he plans to proceed, in case you did wish to find out."

"Doesn't it make it worse knowing ahead of time?" She gripped her body more tightly.

"That depends on your imagination. Unfortunately, I always fill the unknown with the worst possible things." The other woman shook her head. "When Kronitin really wants to make an impression on me, do you know what he does?"

Make marks? Although Janys kept from saying it out loud, she realized how close she came to laughing hysterically.

"He tells me I need to arrange for Chardontal to be elsewhere at a particular time and day, often at least half a decedonner later. Then he gives me a place, usually somewhere in our house, and orders me to appear 'in my skin'. Until I see what he has in his hand when he comes into the room, I have no idea what to expect." Shalimerie shivered. "The waiting is usually worse than the punishment."

"How can you stand it?" Actually it had been bad enough kneeling on the bed for the decedonner knowing Martel would soon be applying the paddle to her bare behind.

"I have to," her friend replied simply. "Besides, he only does it for important things. When he uses that method, I never need it again for the same thing."

Although Janys still preferred not to think about any aspect of her upcoming ordeal, she saw Shalimerie's point. What if she wound up strapped down to the table, waiting for hours for the forbinner to begin? At some point knowing what would follow would be better than cycling through all the horrible possibilities. "All right, tell me about tomorrow."

"Martel will be taking the afternoon off, so he will be home shortly after the lunch hour. He wants to go forward as soon as he gets there, so you must be ready," Shalimerie directed. "Now he will wake you earlier than usual to take your bath, because he will want to be able to place you in the contemplation chair before he leaves for work."

"What's that, a spanking chair?" All the terrible moments she'd endured the other day at the hands of Martel's mother and sister flooded her mind. "We don't even have one!"

"I said 'contemplation', not 'spanking." The woman shuddered. "I know what you mean—once Kronitin borrowed that awful thing from his parents to teach me a lesson about lying. No, this will be an ordinary chair, probably from your kitchen. He will put it near the spanking table. Then he will ask you to remove your prander. You will stay there for a long while thinking why you require forbinner"

Right. I'm going to sit in a chair all morning staring at a torture chamber while he goes merrily off to work. Maybe I can't escape the whipping, but I don't have to sit through the previews, Janys vowed.

Shalimerie continued, "Martel will also put the implement he will use on the spanking table so you can contemplate it as well. In some ways, you are lucky. The Council wanted him to use a cane, preferably hard enough to leave permanent lines on your back. He told Tadewidan he would not mark you, but he would make sure you were properly punished by using romage."

Romage? She'd felt paddles and switches, and knew about rods and canes, but what dreadful instrument could a romage be?

Seeing Janys's panic, Shalimerie hurried on. "A romage is not a thing—it is a method of punishment involving the whole body. He will doing it with a thick leather strap on everything he can reach. Afterwards, you will not be able to do anything comfortably, from holding a pen to lying on your side. But in a few days, you will be fine."

Janys crossed her arms over her breasts. "You mean everything on my back and down."

"He will start that way by having you lie on your stomach," Shalimerie confirmed. "But eventually you will be turned over and strapped everywhere except your face."

"No!" she shrieked, startling a few birds from the tree marking her friend's post-spanking tryst.

"This is why I thought you should know, so you do not panic tomorrow. Janys, look at me." Shalimerie's eyes caught and held hers. "Yes, the strap will hurt when it hits places where you have never felt it before. But you have to trust your husband. He knows the difference between striking your buttocks versus more delicate parts, and he will be careful. As Kronitin did with me the one time I merited romage."

How had Shalimerie survived such a horrible experience? What she wanted to do was lie down in the water and let it carry her away to some place where no one would dream of striking her soft breasts or any other part previously immune from punishment. But she'd heard her friend's warning. If she didn't cooperate tomorrow, not only would the forbinner be carried out before the Council, but she'd end up with scars.

"I will provide you with plenty of my creams for afterwards. And if you hurt too much to sleep, use the drops," the woman advised. "As long as it does not involve him, Martel will look the other way."

If only all of this didn't involve me! Janys knew her friend meant well, but she wished she hadn't gotten so many details. Maybe Demetian folks could mentally prepare themselves for each step of the process, but she'd preferred it to have remained a blur.

Shalimerie must have sensed her discomfort, because she abruptly switched the subject. "I have talked to Mistress Meisin about your working at the school. She would be delighted if you could handle the reading and literature classes. You should find the hours and pay acceptable, and Meisin runs the school fairly. If you are interested, I will let her know, and you can start whenever you wish."

Whenever I recover from tomorrow, Janys translated. While she had little experience with children and never fancied herself as a teacher, it seemed closer to her former sociology work than she might otherwise find on a low-tech world. "I'd like to try."

"Good!" Shalimerie gave her arm a squeeze. "Now let's get something to eat. If we hurry, we can see what Master Grelatik stirred up today in his soup kettle."

Janys let her friend take her down to the meat shop, where the proprietor used leftovers to make delightful concoctions. Yet she only managed a small portion of her bowl.

No matter how Shalimerie tried to keep the conversation on other subjects, her mind still brimmed over with visions of the coming day.

"Perhaps you should take the rest home for tomorrow," Shalimerie suggested. When I don't be able to cook because it will hurt too much, Janys added. She remembered how difficult it had been to do housework after Elondelle switched her palm. And that had been only her left hand. From the description of romage, she had no doubt both would be treated to the strap.

The other woman quickly made arrangements with Master Grelatik to borrow a small pot. From the way he gazed sideways at her while wishing a speedy return to her appetite, Janys realized he knew what she faced the next day. Would these people stop looking at her with pity after she'd received her punishment?

Shalimerie must have read her mind as they silently walked home. As soon as she'd gotten the soup safely stowed away in Janys's kitchen, she took her by the shoulders. "Get through tomorrow, and everything will change for the better. Give into it, love. If you fight Martel physically or emotionally, you will have a much harder time than if you trust him to do what must be done."

"I'll do my best," she promised. Yet she could hear the Professor's voice. Sure, Janys, do just what they tell you. Make it easier for them by not fighting. Agree with them you deserve this barbarous treatment just for doing your job. If you can remember back when you had one.

She spent the remainder of the afternoon in bed, huddled under the quilt. When Martel got home, he came immediately to her bedroom. "Shalimerie told you what to expect tomorrow."

"Yes," she whispered.

He sat down next to her on the bed as he had the night after her confrontation with Elondelle. "This is a hard thing for us to go through so early in our marriage, especially under the circumstances. But we will get through it. Do you believe I love you?"

Of course he'd said the words two nights ago, but she'd brushed them aside as she always did. Prof usually uttered them as well, but she'd figured he also told them to his wife to keep their marriage going on. Other men rolled them out so mechanically or casually that she'd learned not to pay attention.

But looking into his face etched with worry and sadness over the upcoming event and seeing the tenderness, she did believe. Not merely that he desired her or wished to protect her, but that he cared deeply despite her thoughtlessness. That although he would punish her for her behavior, he accepted her faults and forgave her. Could this be how it felt to be cherished?

"Tomorrow I will only hurt you as much as necessary, not one bit more," he promised solemnly.

"I know," she breathed as she again pulled him towards her. But this time they did not make love, only held each other through the night until the inevitable suns poked over the horizon.

With one final hug and a kiss on the top of her forehead, he pulled away. Somehow she knew it would be the last moment of affection until the forbinner was over, because Martel would have to distance himself from her in order to carry out his mission. While she felt the sharp loss, she sensed that for a while she'd also find it easier as well to think of him as the arm of the Council rather than her loving husband.

Following Shalimerie's suggestions, she bathed carefully, then put on a clean tunic and prander. By the time she reported downstairs, Martel had finished breakfast. When he offered her some, she shook her head. "Perhaps for the best," he commented. "Come with me."

He led her back upstairs down the hall to the room he'd slept in during the first days of their marriage. Except for the bed, he'd moved the other furniture into the closet, replacing it with the spanking bench and a hard-wood chair. A thick leather strap lay curled on the bench along with a small canister. As Janys eyed the strap with dread, he picked up the other object.

"Take off your prander," he ordered. "Then fold it up and put it on the bed." With shaking fingers, she did as he instructed. A slight breeze from the window teased the tunic, lifting it off her naked buttocks.

"Now come sit in the chair, but hold your feet up for a moment so they do not touch the floor."

Puzzled and alarmed, she again did his bidding. Opening the canister, he began shaking the contents down around the legs of the chair. "What are you doing?"

"A less intrusive variation on what the Council required." He widened the area to create a circle several feet in diameter. "They believed if you were not going to be watched during your contemplation time, I should tie you to the chair. But I figured out this less painful alternative. There, you can put your legs down now."

Gingerly she lowered them to the floor. The powder felt dry and grainy under her bare soles. "Why didn't you just ask Shalimerie to keep an eye on me?"

"She has other things to do with her time." He replaced the lid on the canister and stowed it away in a drawer. "Besides, I know she couldn't help trying to make things better by distracting you with conversation, when you should be thinking about the actions that brought you here. Or she might even let you wander instead of making you stay in the chair…"

"I get the idea," she retorted.

He gazed at her steadily. "I hope you do. Both the Elders and I take this matter very seriously. That night, you attempted to betray our secrecy. The Council acted mercifully in allowing you a second chance. If you do anything like it again, you will be sent to Kollent…"

"Well, don't worry. I'm not going to." As much as she hated the idea of the strapping, she'd rather get on with it than spend hours being treated like a child who might climb out of her bed at night.

"Now I cannot control your thoughts during this time, but I can control your movement. If you get up from the chair, I will know," he looked at her sternly. "And I will punish your disobedience by caning you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she told him, clasping her hands in her lap. How she hated the cool determination in his eyes, so like his mother's.

"When I get back, we will continue." Because she faced the spanking bench, she heard rather than saw him leave.

She spent a few minutes trying to figure out how to escape. If she stood on the chair, she might be able to leap completely beyond the circle, but she didn't know how she could return without disturbing the powder. And if the chair moved—

Resigned, she stopped scheming. Much as she rebelled at being forced to sit there with nothing to do except think about her upcoming punishment, she knew Martel would use the cane if she ignored his orders.

Before long she didn't know what felt worse, the boredom or apprehension. The small room contained no clock or other timekeeping apparatus, so aside from the slow crawl of sunlight across the floor, she had no way of telling how long she'd waited. Yet although she wanted it to be over, she knew she wouldn't feel as well when he'd gotten through with her as she did at the moment. By the time the suns set she would wish she'd still be able to sit comfortably in a chair.

Mercifully the warm room and sunshine made her drowsy, so she dozed off. When the door opened downstairs, she woke up so quickly she almost tipped the chair over. I'm not ready, she cried, her heart in her throat, as she heard her husband's footsteps coming towards her. Her skin prickled as she felt him standing behind her in the doorway.

"Good. The powder remains undisturbed. Did you complete your contemplation of the forbinner?" His voice stayed perfectly level as though devoid of all emotion.

"No, I want to stay here another day or so staring at those blasted things!" she snapped at him, then immediately wondered why she wanted to make him angry. Perhaps because it would be easier to accept what he was about to do if he weren't so calm and collected about it. She could accept his throwing her on the bench and walloping the bejeezus out of her if he thought she needed punishment, but not this clinical approach. Right now he reminded her of the doctors on Odonorton V as they administered the excruciating plague inoculations to the public.

He ignored her outburst as he walked up to the spanking table and picked up the strap. "Janys, the forbinner will now begin. I want you to take off your tunic and put it with your prander. Then you will lie face down on the bench.

Her fingers shook so much she wasn't sure she could get the tunic off. Despite the times they'd made love, she felt embarrassed standing in front of him totally naked while he remained fully clothed. Slowly she completed the task and began inching towards the bench, wishing she could instead bolt out the door. Again the hysterical laughter choked her as she wondered whether Martel would have problems tracking down a nude woman racing through Wyteen.

Don't think about what you're doing. Just get on the bench. Without looking at her husband, she willed herself to lie down. The cool leather felt slightly sticky under her stomach and breasts as she pressed them against the slanted surface.

Immediately he took her hands and stretched out her arms, fastening the straps around them. Spreading her legs, he buckled in her right ankle. When she felt the leather wrapping around her left foot, she realized she'd lost the last bit of control over her situation. Maybe running hadn't been much of an option, but it had been her decision not to try it. Now there was nothing she could say or do to change what would happen as she lay totally exposed on the bench, her bottom tilted up to receive the maximum impact…

Martel fingers brushed the back of her neck. With horror she realized he'd lifted her hair off her shoulders. Giving it a small twist, he clipped it to her head in an informal bun. He's baring my back she moaned as she reared up ineffectually against the restraints. Although she'd paid lip service to Shalimerie's warnings about the extent of her punishment, it hadn't seemed real until that moment.

For a moment she worried he'd start at the top, but he turned his attention to his traditional area of interest. The leather snapped down across both her cheeks, the folded end wrapping around to sting her side. Before she could breathe it landed again in almost the same place. With no pausing, he kept striking, each time enlarging and increasing the band of pain until she had to clamp down on her lips.

He worked on her backside for a long time, repeating the campaign until every inch burned, then starting moving down her thighs. The strap bit deeply into skin as she struggled. When it came down on the soft skin behind her knees, she yelled. From there on, he dealt with each leg individually, whipping first her right then left calf. "Don't!" she cried seconds before the soles of her feet became the latest victim.

Again he began moving upwards this time, spending more time on her buttocks until everything below her waist cried in agony. Then she felt the thud across the small of her back as he began the dreadful climb, striping the broad expanse of skin. She shrieked with every increment, screaming as he lashed the strap across her shoulder blades.

The next few minutes seemed relatively easier as he cradled her head to protect her face while he whipped her arms and the back of her hands. After he finished there, he returned to her bottom, though now so much of her hurt that she scarcely noticed.

Finally he stopped completely, dropping the strap to the floor as he undid the ankle and wrist restraints. "Time to turn over," he said quietly.

"No!" she cried, using the last of her strength to try and get off the bench. He laid his arm heavily across her back, pinning her back down. Somehow she choked the words out. "Martel, please. I can't take any more. If you love me, you'll stop."

"Because I do love you, I must go on," he replied, grabbing her around the waist and flipping her right side up. Despite the coldness in his voice, she saw the agony in his eyes as her welted skin made contact with the leather. As she tried to arch up, he pressed her left leg against the surface and trapped it in the restraint. While he did the same to her right, she folded her arms tightly across her breasts.

"Janys." He placed his hands on her elbows, but made no move to pull her arms away. "You know we have to finish this. If necessary, I will force you into the restraints, but I would rather you did it freely."

"But I hurt so much already," she pleaded, clamping herself even tighter. "Don't do this to me!"

"You asked me a moment ago if I loved you," he told her quietly. "I gave you my answer. Now I do not ask for your love, but I do need your trust if we are to have any chance going forward of having a happy life together. Please give me that trust now."

Shaking with sobs, she buried her face in her hands. Then so slowly she almost wasn't aware she'd done it, she relaxed her arms. He unfolded and stretched them up, binding her left wrist in position. The right he left free

This time he started with her hands, pounding the strap across her palms before working his way up her forearm to her elbow. She was only dimly aware that he'd switched to her feet and legs, giving her shins and front of her upper thighs the same treatment she'd received on their counterparts. Then something fiery licked across her pelvis and stomach.

Shalimerie had been right—Martel wasn't hitting these places with the same force he'd brought to the rest of the strapping—but the pain still overwhelmed her. She closed her eyes tightly so she wouldn't have to see his arm coming down as the relentless wave continued towards her breasts. But she couldn't help hearing the sound as he doubled the strap again before using it to spank first the right, then left, in blazing short strokes centered on her nipples.

"One more place, then we will be done." But even before she felt his arm move farther down her body, she knew where she would feel it. Between her legs, on the area with the greatest number of nerve endings. Too exhausted to scream, she whimpered as he applied the leather five more times.

Even after he unbuckled the restraints she didn't try to move. Why should she when even lifting a finger brought a fresh wave of pain? Martel looked down at her, his eyes watering. "Janys, I am so sorry," he breathed. "But we know it had to be done."

She wanted to say she didn't know, couldn't even think when every inch of body shrieked in agony. Surely the anger that kept her together while waiting for the forbinner would return, and she would hate both him and his world for doing this to her.

But she didn't. Before she'd just imagined what Martel had endured at the Men's Gathering for helping her. Now that she shared the same pain, she understood how difficult it must have been for him to bear it so stoically, blaming neither the men who wielded the rods nor the one who'd placed him in jeopardy.

Shalimerie had told her to give into the punishment, but even though she'd acquiesced physically, she knew she hadn't emotionally. All the time in the chair and then on the bench, she'd fought it. Blaming Wyteen for its laws. Blaming the Council for enforcing them. Worse yet, blaming Martel for carrying out the forbinner, even knowing he had no choice.

Something inside her crumbled as she recognized what she'd been looking at the situation neither as an objective observer nor mature adult, but as a child who resented getting caught. She started crying again, reaching for his hand and laying it against her cheek. "I'm the only one to blame for breaking the law. Will you ever forgive me?"

He dropped down to one knee as he stroked her face. "How can I, when I already did so the moment you said you would marry me?"

Janys started crying harder. "I just feel so sorry—"

"Shhh, my darling." He cut her off with a kiss. "You did something wrong, and you have been punished for it. Now it is over, and you need to forgive yourself. Offering yourself for correction is the only price for forgiveness."

"I guess I have," she conceded. If she could accept the fact she'd broken the law, couldn't she also accept the fact she'd paid for it? Suddenly she felt light and free, as if she'd just passed a final exam she'd been worrying over forever. Her sobbing stopped as she realized that although her body still hurt, the rest of her had never been better.

"Here, let me." A kerchief materialized from some hidden compartment on Martel's tunic, and he gently dabbed at her eyes.

As he bent over her, Janys realized she'd never considered how difficult it must have been for him to carry out the forbinner. Except for his participation in the Men's Gatherings, where he could have avoided striking a loved one by accepting the blows himself, Martel would never have been responsible for causing serious pain to someone he cared about. The man who hadn't cried out over his own bruises and marks had fought tears over hurting her.

"Are you ready to go upstairs?" She nodded, and he went over to open the door.

Shalimerie must have been waiting nearby, because suddenly she appeared. Together she and Martel supported Janys in the endless walk up the stairs. A steaming cup of corittan waited by the beside. "Drink, love," her friend commanded, holding it to her mouth before helping her lie down on the bed. Within minutes the drug carried her to welcome oblivion.

She woke reluctantly, wishing to sink back down in the painless blackness. Cool expert fingers rubbed something soothing on her back. "Shalimerie," she murmured. "Thank you."

Instantly the hands stopped their work. "Actually it is I," Elondelle's voice replied. "My grandson has a fever. I offered to look after you so she could go home to him."

Automatically Janys tensed, causing her body to complain massively. "I thought you didn't believe in breaking the rules. That stuff you're putting on me—"

"Offends the spirit of forbinner," Elondelle finished. "Yes, I know. But Zellin was right that I sometimes follow the rules too blindly. Someday I will tell you why, but right now you need to eat a little, then get more sleep."

She allowed the other woman to help her into a semi-sitting position. Fortunately her lips and throat didn't ache or worse, so she managed to get down the remainder of Master Grelatik 's soup before Elondelle passed her another cup of corittan laced with sleeping drops.

As she became drowsy, Elondelle patted her reddened hand. "Janys, I wish to apologize for the things that happened the last time we saw each other. I know you have tried hard to learn our way of life and become a good wife for my son, and I was wrong to push you so hard. Now I am no longer your disciplinarian, I hope we can start over."

"Sure," she mumbled. "No problem." She drifted into unconsciousness, wondering if she'd only dreamed about her mother-in-law's appearance.

The next day she woke by herself, and despite wincing each inch of the way, made it to the bathroom. Although she figured she'd be covered with bruises, the mirror showed only her bottom and thighs bore black-and-blue marks. Everything else just felt sore, as though she'd been pummeled about in a Flertilian wind storm.

She found Elondelle and Yagote in the kitchen chopping up greens "Good, you are awake," the older woman remarked. "I thought a salad for now, then something more substantial in the evening. While you eat, Yagote can change your bed linens."

Janys opened her mouth to say she didn't want anyone snooping about her room, then closed it. Even if she felt up to tucking in sheets or plumping pillows, she didn't want to cross Elondelle in the wake of her mother-in-law's apology. Instead she gingerly lowered herself on top of the marital pillow and ate some of the slightly sweet mixture on her plate before retiring to the living room.

The other two vanished when Shalimerie returned that afternoon. Janys lay back on the couch, letting her friend's teaching adventures and gossip flow over her aching body like the stream water she'd longed to feel. When she woke up, she found Martel had taken up the vigil.

She hadn't exchanged more than a couple of words with him since he'd released her from the spanking bench. Her tongue felt sluggish, drained by the crying and unsure what to say to the man who'd caused the pain. Yet she remembered his tears, and couldn't blame him for administering the strapping when the Council had given him no choice.

Actually she couldn't work up much anger at Tadewidan and the elders. Now that the forbinner had taken place, she found it easier to accept. Before her raging against the laws had been more the defense of someone looking for an escape clause, not a researcher objectively reviewing the situation. After all, she'd seen people punished in other societies, sometimes for far less. She'd knowingly defied their laws—what principled objection could she have to accepting the consequences of her action?

Never had she seen Martel afraid, even when he left to confront the Men's Gathering, but she didn't know how else to describe the way he looked at her. She wet her lips, trying to figure out how to tell him she didn't hate him. That in some strange way she felt closer to him now that she'd finally paid the price for the pain he'd suffered on her behalf.

Finally she held out her hand. "I love you," she whispered…