Janys dreaded the next round of Elondelle's lessons, but by being careful, she managed to remain relatively unscathed through the next few days. Now when asked to replace a broken switch, she practically ran to the garden. Although she missed a few questions on the daily tests and received several swipes across her shins, the great majority she got right, thereby preserving her thighs from added indignities.

While her mother-in-law didn't reveal much more of her own background, she continued to offer Janys how-to kitchen advice over lunch time. On the fifth morning after she started learning to cook, Janys rose early and made breakfast for Martel.

When he came down, his face was drawn tight as if he hadn't slept much. Although he thanked her for the chinichon and rice biscuits she put on the table, he barely touched his plate Janys also wondered at his silence on their morning pilgrimage. While normally they'd continue their literature discussions, today he barely responded to her questions and comments on favorite mystery writers.

Elondelle also seemed subdued when she opened the door. However Yagote made up with uncharacteristic animation, twice hugging Martel much too closely for Janys's comfort.

Fortunately Martel was too distracted to notice. "I will be back early tonight, because I told Shalimerie we would be at their home before the second sundown. That will leave Kronitin and me time to reach the Gathering."

"What do you believe will happen tonight?" his mother asked.

He shrugged. "You know neither Father nor I may reveal it to anyone, even you. All I can say is that the Elders recommended I take a day of leave tomorrow." Turning to Janys, he added, "If you wish, you may come over here so your lessons will not be interrupted, or you may remain at home with me."

"I'll stay home," she replied before the offer could be rescinded. But what could they be talking about?

Then her mind started clicking. Yes, it had been ten days—a decedon—from the disastrous evening when she'd been arrested, so it would be time for the men to have their next meeting. What had Martel promised the Council after describing the visit to his father? Something about admitting the same to the Men's Gathering and offering his body for correction.

Now she understood what was bothering Martel and Elondelle. He was going to be punished tonight by the rest of the men for allowing Janys to pump him for information about the last gathering, even though he didn't know she would use it to attend the secret meeting. And from the sounds of it, the punishment would be so severe he'd be unable to work the next day.

She wished she could have several minutes alone with him to find out more and tell him how sorry she was about his paying for her mistakes, but he hurried off to work. Surprisingly Yagote didn't accompany him. "I will supervise housework today instead of lessons," Elondelle announced. "Yagote will demonstrate, then both of you will perform each item until it is completed."

Most of the tasks were simple, requiring only correct use of the designated tool. Although the older woman kept a switch within easy reach, she didn't seem terribly concerned with Janys's work. Her eyes kept gazing out at the garden while the lines deepened in her tanned face. When they began sweeping the immense living room, she nodded at Yagote, then walked out the rear exit.

As soon as Elondelle was out of earshot, Yagote turned on Janys. "Little Miss Spy. Do you know what they will do to him tonight?"

The words she'd been holding back all morning spilled out. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "I never wanted any of this to happen."

"But you came here," Yagote hissed. "You may be sorry, but he will be the one with the scars on his back."

"No!" Janys found it difficult to breathe as she thought of Martel being permanently marked. Surely Yagote was making this up just to torment her.

"He should have let you go to Kollent," Yagote continued mercilessly. "Then all the men would have believed you tricked him into giving out the information. But now several say he deliberately answered questions to please you, so he will get the maximum strokes."

Tears spilling down her cheeks, Janys dropped her curved wooden brush on the floor and ran to the backyard. Elondelle sat in a carved chair, oblivious to the white heat of the two suns. From the way she rubbed at her eyes, Janys guessed she'd been crying.

"Janys, I hope you have finished sweeping the room!" The firm voice struggled for normality. "I did not give you permission to come out here."

"That doesn't matter," she retorted, undeterred by the sources for switches growing only a few steps away. "I needed to ask you something about tonight. Tell me what's going to happen to Martel."

She waited to be ordered back inside, but Elondelle paused. "I hope you find the answer worth having the back of the brush applied to your palm."

"Yes, I do," Janys went on bravely, trying not to think of the heavy thud when she'd dropped it on the floor.

"Then ask your question," Elondelle sighed.

Janys fought to keep her own voice in line. "Yagote said the Gathering will do things to Martel that will scar him for life."

Again Elondelle shifted her gaze so that she stared past the trees instead of looking at Janys. "That is always a possibility when punishment is given. But none of us—especially you—should be talking about what happens at a Gathering other than what we were told at your trial. We know two things. The men will make a decision. And Martel will let them carry it out."

"But it's so unfair!" Janys burst out. "I'm the one that should be punished!"

"And well you will be," Elondelle remarked. "I am sure that the bench Zellin and I gave as a wedding gift will be put to good use shortly. But Martel erred as well, and now must face the consequences. As his mother, I wish those to be minimal, because I know his act to be simply a foolish mistake. But I am not the one to determine his sanction, any more than I may tell my husband how to punish me."

After days of being on the receiving end of Elondelle's handiwork, Janys had completely forgotten that the older woman answered to anyone. Could it be possible this stony-eyed woman actually offered her body for correction? Despite her concern for Martel, she couldn't help asking, "What do you do when he's wrong? When you're being punished for something you didn't do?"

"Fortunately that rarely happens," Elondelle replied. "But I admit there have been times when I disagreed with the necessity as well as the severity of discipline he handed me. Afterwards we discussed it, and several times he has made amends."

"But that's backwards!" Janys protested. "If he's wrong, you should be able to stop him. Just as Martel should be able to tell the Gathering they're crazy to blame him for something I did on my own."

Ellondelle shook her head. "Janys, you do not understand about trust. I must trust Zellin to do the right thing, just as Martel must trust the men at the Gathering. That means submitting to their will even when we disagree."

Janys felt sweat creeping down her back and legs, soaking into the tunic, yet she wanted Elondelle to continue. She wondered if Yagote was still at work in the house, or if she hovered at the back listening to the conversation.

"When I do as my husband tells without argument or rebellion, I show him how much I love and respect him. How much I believe he uses his authority only to strengthen our marriage or for my good as a person. In the same way, Martel shows his respect for our customs by accepting the authority of the rest of the men."

"It still doesn't seem right," Janys insisted.

"To me it seemed wrong to live in a world without structure," the older woman pointed out. "I accept a few errors by those of good intent as the price of keeping that structure intact. But we shall talk of these things later. Now I must remind your hand not to shirk its tasks."

Without being told, Janys stumbled back into the house in time to see Yagote making a final sweep of the now spotless floor. Although she had no reason to like the girl, she felt guilty about leaving her with the entire job. Still she hated the knowing look on the other's face as she bent over to pick up the brush.

While before she'd always handed over the switches with the deepest resentment, this time Janys didn't feel anger towards her disciplinarian. Much as she hated it, she understood the idea of structure. That's what had initially drawn her to the Institute, whose complicated rules for academic achievement and career advancement made her feel safe and protected. At least until she'd started breaking them with impunity. Closing her eyes, she held out her hand.

Elondelle wasted no time demonstrating how much a curved piece of wood could sting when applied repeatedly to palm and fingers. Nor did she allow Janys to soak it afterwards, much less ease up on the rest of the afternoon's activities. By the time Martel arrived, she could barely hold on to anything.

Although Janys longed to tell Martel how terrible she felt over what he faced that evening, he'd drawn even deeper into himself. The way to Shalimerie's house easily topped three times the distance of their normal walks, but he never said a word. Yet she didn't sense he blamed her for his plight, but that he needed to focus all his energy on his upcoming ordeal.

The second sun dipped below the horizon as they came up to a small cabin tucked into a grove of more "switch trees". She wondered whether Shalimerie also had to make humiliating excursions to the backyard.

A red-cheeked toddler played with blocks as Shalimerie watched from a porch swing. She jumped up as they came down the path. "Janys, welcome! Come on in while I collect Chardontal and his toys.

While the home they'd just left contained mostly hardwood furniture with little decoration, Shalimerie's nest blossomed with softness and color. Janys couldn't begin to count the pillows and knitted blankets strewn about the puffy couches and chairs. Yet somehow the hues harmonized to create some sense of order.

Shalimerie plunked Chardontal down into a smooth wood enclosure inhabited by stuffed bears and other creatures. She took a long look at Janys's left hand. "May we do something about that?" she asked Martel.

He nodded absently as Shalimerie ushered her guest towards the bathroom. While Janys perched on a fluffy stool, she removed a jar and a long strip of cloth. Although Janys couldn't recognize the fragrance, it smelled as good as it felt when Shalimerie smoothed it over her ravaged skin, then wrapped everything loosely in the material. "You must have had a difficult day," she commented.

"I had to find out what was going to happen to Martel tonight."

Shalimerie looked meaningfully towards the outer rooms. "We may discuss that later this evening after our shopping is completed."

Janys shook her head. "Shalimerie, I don't really feel like looking at clothes tonight. You've already found me more than enough to last for a while. Could we do it another time?"

"Certainly!" The sleekly coiffed head bobbed in agreement. "Kronitin and Martel only wished us to have something to occupy our thoughts until their return, but I have another idea that may be more to your liking." Leaning closer, she whispered, "Our neighbor Alicitia was to watch Chardontal, but I will pay her instead to fetch us a bottle of winnotal. I know you did not have a chance to sample it at your reception, but it is quite good. After Chardontal goes to sleep, we can talk."

"I'd like that," Janys admitted.

"Then I will slip out the back and let her know our change in plans."

Janys started back for the living room, pleased her hand barely hurt thanks to Shalimerie's ministrations. However she hung back when she saw Martel and Kronitin together, the two blond heads shaking as they argued.

"This is my fault alone," Martel told his brother. "You should not have any part of it."

"It is my right to spare you—"

"It is my right to bear my punishment without hurting my family," Martel interrupted. "Does Father also intend to take it on himself?"

"I believe so," Kronitin said earnestly. "Unless the others agree you should be given a lighter sentence because you sought his discipline immediately. Of course I will also argue that you have done penance by taking on the burden of marrying an outsider."

"But neither of you think they will listen," Martel shook his head. "Tadewidan warned me yesterday that Onnerton and Peretal still consider me a traitor."

"We have to be prepared for the maximum, which means your family and friends should divert as much as possible." Kronitin put his hand on Martel's shoulder. "I know you would do the same for us in different circumstances."

Martel hugged his brother. "If I cannot stop you, then accept my thanks."

"I will still deliver one stroke. Will you be thanking me for that?"

"Perhaps not," Martel conceded. "But I forgive you for it, if you will forgive yourself for having to do it."

The two men clasped arms again, then Martel looked over to the door. "Janys, how long have you been there?"

"A little while." She blushed.

"Then write down in the bibalon that you will receive ten swats for eavesdropping," he ordered.

As she fumbled with the book and pen, Kronitin looked at the wall clock. "We must be going."

Fortunately Shalimerie reappeared as the men somberly moved towards the door. Janys slipped to Martel's side, wrapping an arm around his waist. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

"It will all be over soon," he assured her, his lips brushing the top of her head. Then he was gone.

As Shalimerie got her son ready for bed, Janys wrestled with her guilt and confusion. When she'd studied Demetian customs, she'd considered them simple. She'd classified the entire colony as sadists and masochists who enjoyed giving and receiving corporal punishment. Now she saw the underlying complexity of the rules that governed both domestic relationships and the community.

In a few minutes Shalimerie returned carrying a large green bottle and glasses. Brushing aside one of Chardontal's rubber balls, she set them down on a low table in front of Janys. After popping the court with a practiced hand, she poured a generous amount for both of them. But before she took a sip, she took out her bibalon and jotted down an entry.

"Kronitin usually never minds if I drink winnotal," she commented. "As long as it is not very much and I tell him about it. But one time he did punish me for drinking five out of the ten days, so I must always write it down."

"There's so much I don't understand," Janys confessed. "Such as what Martel and Kronitin talked about when you were gone. Something about Kronitin diverting punishment from Martel."

For a second Shalimerie's face darkened. "Kronitin told me his intentions. While I understand why he wishes to protect Martel, it grieves me for him take on that pain."

"How does it all work? I know Men's Gatherings are secret."

"And should have remained so as to you," the other woman pointed out. "At least before now. But although Kronitin keeps confidence on specifics, we conduct gatherings for women in the same way in Lycarta, so I have a good idea what Martel faces tonight."

Janys took a long swallow, letting the sweet but burning taste fill her mouth and throat. Shalimerie joined her before settling back, her hand twisting a pillow by her side. "Although the Council has no authority over the gathering, the men usually ask an elder to preside. First he makes certain all members of the community are present or their absence explained. Then he calls for discussion of any event or other issue affecting the community as a whole. I imagine they will be most concerned tonight about Protectorate action on your behalf."

Please don't ask me if I know anything about that Janys begged, remembering her last exchange with the ambassador. Fortunately Shalimerie kept any questions to herself. "Finally the group takes up matters relating to individuals. Each man will be given the opportunity to describe his failures and submit himself for punishment. Most of the time, these relate to private matters not otherwise known outside the family, and the man himself may suggest an appropriate sanction to be carried out by the presiding elder."

"I don't understand," Janys confessed. "What sort of matters?"

"Kronitin calls it limiton, but I think of it as 'correcting the corrector'. Neither a husband nor parent has unlimited authority to discipline." Shalimerie poured more winnotal into her glass. "Sometimes it appears that a punishment was unduly harsh, or was otherwise given in error. The remedy for wrongful punishment requires the person causing it to suffer the same or worse."

"Making amends?" Janys remembered Ellondelle's phrase.

"You can see it that way." She stood up. "Let me check that Chardontal has gone to sleep. Lately he has tried to climb out of his crib after I have gone, and because he is much too young to understand discipline, all I can do is tuck him in again. When I get back, I will give you an example of limiton. "

While Shalimerie was gone, Janys topped off the glasses. Although the subject matter of the conversation disturbed her, the liquid definitely helped her relax. She leaned back and closed her eyes, opening them only when she heard the rustle of a tunic.

"It was the first year we got married," Shalimerie began. "Although I loved Kronitin and wanted to live with him, I had problems becoming a Wyteen wife. It seemed as though no matter how hard I tried, my bottom and legs were always sore."

Tell me about it. Janys looked at her aching hand while still feeling the remnants of Martel's attentions to her rear end.

"One night I came home extremely tired," Shalimerie continued. "Back before Chardontal was born I taught reading at the school. Usually my students behaved themselves, but that day I had to give them a group spanking. My arm felt as though it would drop off by the time I had the last one crying."

She sighed. "Normally Kronitin would have noticed I was not myself, but it had been a bad day for him as well. We started quarreling before dinner and continued into the evening, until he told me to fetch the marital paddle. He said I needed to have my disposition adjusted before bedtime. I thought he was wrong, and after wielding the paddle myself earlier that day, I could not bring myself to get it."

"Instead of obeying, I shouted at him that he belonged over my lap instead, and that I wished we were in Lycarta so I could make it so." She blushed. "I took it back immediately, but he was angry as well and would not listen. Instead he got the paddle himself and put me right over here." Her hand patted the sofa arm. "By the time he finished, I could not even think of sitting down."

"The next day he apologized and admitted he overreacted. He returned from the next gathering with bruises on his buttocks much like mine. I believe he regretted the severity of my punishment, and told the other men to perform limiton by giving him the same."

Once again, Janys grasped the logic behind the Demetian traditions. At least checks and balances existed against misuse of power. Perhaps Shalimerie had been spared future encounters with the paddle because Kronitin learned to pause and evaluate his own risk. "I was asking about this same thing earlier today. I wonder why his mother didn't say anything about this whole idea of limiton."

Shalimerie snorted. "Do you really think Ellondelle would tell you about it on the day Martel faces the Gathering? Besides, she is like most outsiders. When they truly accept our customs, they become the purists. For months after Kronitin and I married, she watched every time he sat down to make sure we were not secretly reversing our roles to the Lycarta way. My own mother accepted my decision to become a Wyteen wife long before Ellondelle saw me as proper material for her son."

"Did it ever happen?" Somehow Janys couldn't imagine the disapproving Ellondelle embracing her as a daughter-in-law even if the Institute failed to rescue her.

"Not until Kronitin spanked me in front of all of them," Shalimerie turned pink. "His family invited us to their house to celebrate the Feast of Planetfall. While I was helping with the table, Yagote annoyed me one time too often, and I snapped. Of course she told Kronitin, and he asked his mother if he could borrow the strap Zellin used on the boys when they were growing up. After Ellondelle found it, he pushed the dishes aside at one of the end of the table and told me to bare myself and bend over."

"I was so embarrassed I thought I would die," she confessed. "It was the first time since our wedding that Kronitin did anything to me before others. And to have it in front of that girl—"

"Yagote has been less than friendly to me as well," Janet jumped in. "I can tell she's interested in Martel."

"I thought you would figure that out." Shalimerie laughed. "I considered telling you, but I knew if you were interested in him yourself, you would discover it on your own. Janys, I am glad you pay such close attention to our Martel."

"She's just so obvious about it," Janys muttered. While it was gratifying to have her suspicions confirmed, she hated admitting anything resembling jealousy over a husband she didn't want.

Shalimerie chuckled again. "To you and me, yes, Kronitin and Martel choose to be blind. They are men. They love having another female fuss over them."

"But if Martel is her goal, why doesn't she like you?"

>Let me show you something." The other woman got up and went over to a chest under the windows. Opening it up, she removed a large album, then came back and sat down next to Janys. She flipped through the pages, then pointed at a picture. Much younger versions of Kronitin and Martel smiled at the camera. A grinning Yagote stood between them, her arms clutched around both their shoulders.

"Martel is her goal now, because all her feelings shifted that way after I spirited Kronitin away. Before that I think she believed they both would live with her forever. When Kronitin moved out, she realized the only way to bind the remaining brother to her was by marriage."

"I can't believe Martel would encourage her," Janys ventured.

"Only by being kind to her instead of setting her straight." Shalimerie poured the last of the wine into the two glasses. "I believe he wanted to spare his mother as well, because Ellondelle supported the idea. Even if I passed her test that feast day by taking the strapping without complaining, she wanted Martel to marry within the Wyteen community."

"Why didn't he?"

Shalimerie shrugged. "Until you came along, Martel showed no special interest in any of the women here. Ellondelle always feared he would seek an outsider. As in fact he did, though in a different way than his brother. Yagote was her last chance."

Janys drank deeply, appreciating the warmth of the winnotal as it spread through her body. "I still can't see Martel and Yagote as anyone's idea of a couple."

"Neither can I," her friend chimed in. "But Ellondelle believes Yagote has hidden charms. Unfortunately they are too hidden for my taste."

"Or mine."

The two women chuckled. How could she ever have thought Shalimerie to be the Demetian equivalent of the decorative young women the Institute hired to show visitors around? Now Janys saw the bouncy optimism concealed levels of perception and wit. Even though the society required submission to husbands, Janys suspected Shalimerie was every inch a match for Kronitin.

She would have liked to have learned more about Ellondelle and her nemesis, as well as Shalimerie's ways of coping with her punishments, but she felt she'd abandoned Martel by going off on other subjects. After a pause, she swung the topic back. "So as in limiton, an elder will paddle Martel tonight?"

"Alas, love, that is not the way I believe it will go," Shalimerie shook her head. "This is not a private matter involving only a single victim. Even if Martel suggests a sanction, it will be with the rod, not a paddle, and it will be carried out by all of the men present, with the elder filling in for any absent ones."

"Everyone gets to come strike him with the rod?" Janys quickly calculated how many men populated Wyteen. "But that would be over forty!"

"Only if Kronitin and his father prevail in keeping the number that low," Shalimerie corrected. "The gathering may authorize up to five strokes from each person. That is where friends and family are important.

"So if the number were five?"

"Everyone including Kronitin and Zellin would be expected to deliver that number in full force. A man may only refuse to carry out the allotted number if he is willing to bear them himself."

Janys closed her eyes, imagining what damage two hundred strokes would do. "You're saying that Kronitin and his father would take Martel's place?" Now she understood the extent of his family's sacrifice.

"Yes, for whatever number they wish to defer. Kronitin will deliver only a single stroke to Martel. Even that will be difficult for him, as it is for him to take the rod to me, but he believes some punishment should be given for such an error in judgment. But beyond that one, he will take them on himself." She grimaced, her fingers again squeezing the cushion by her side.

Now Janys could fit together all the pieces of conversation she'd overhead. "But if the Gathering agreed on just one, Kronitin would be all right?"

"We may hope." Shalimerie downed the last of her winnotal. "But we should be prepared otherwise. First however we must clear our heads with some food." The bottle vanished, replaced by a pitcher of water and basket of pastries stuffed with bondoliere…

Although the food tasted delicious, Janys barely noticed it. All she could imagine was a procession of men stepping towards Martel with something long and thin in their hands. And not just Martel, but his father and brother, as well as any other friends who volunteered to help.

For the rest of the evening, Shalimerie diverted her with tales of her work as a teacher. "When Chardontal grows older, I plan to go back, unless a brother or sister arrives first. But after you fully settle in, you might consider helping out. Martel mentioned you love literature, and since I left they have been short-handed in the reading class."

While Janys silently noted she didn't intend to be on the planet that long, they heard footsteps on the path. Shalimerie sprung up to open the door, but only Kronitin stood in the doorway. "We thought Martel should go directly home," he told them, his shoulders hunched forward. "My father went with him. I will take Janys there."

His wife placed her hands lightly on his upper arms, looking deeply into his eyes. "Not before I help you heal any marks you bear for helping your family. Come with me, my darling."

"You know men do not accept salves—" he protested.

"I know men do not accept salves for their own punishments. This is something else," Shalimerie argued. "Now we can either stand here discussing it, or you can let me put it on so that you can hurry Janys back to Martel."

Janys recognized the look on Kronitin's face as the same mixture of exasperation and something else she'd seen on Martel when dealing with her. Nevertheless he followed his wife to the back. Small cries punctuated their murmurings for the next minutes. Then Kronitin emerged, wincing as he rebuckled his tunic.

Shalimerie stood in the hallway beckoning at Janys. "Your turn now. Before you leave I wanted to put more cream on your hand."

Kronitin's eyebrows lowered as though he didn't believe Janys needed any additional treatment, but he didn't protest as Janys returned to the bathroom. "It's feeling a lot better, so I really don't think—" Janys began.

Shalimerie placed a finger across her lips. "Hush," she whispered, closing the door. "Kronitin could not tell me what happened tonight, but there were two raised lines on his back."

Janys did the math. The Gathering must have condemned Martel to three strokes per man. He could have been hit well over a hundred times.

"I fear Martel will need special treatment," Shalimerie continued. "The same I used on Kronitin." She slipped a small jar out of the cabinet. "This is a special ointment made by my mother. On the good side, it has great healing properties. On the bad, it stings tremendously."

"Then I doubt Martel will let me use it on him," Janys commented. She didn't want to tell her friend that she'd never touched or even seen his bare back.

"Of course he will refuse," Shalimerie agreed. "Even if it would not be agony on badly damaged skin, you heard Kronitin. The men do not believe they have the right to reduce consequences of their punishments."

"So what do I do?"

"Use this." This time Shalimerie pulled out a small bottle. "Pour five drops of this into a cup of corittan, and make sure he drinks it all. He will fall asleep quickly and not wake up even when the salve is applied."

"I don't think…" Janys shook her head.

"It will help him," Shalimerie insisted. "Do you want him to be scarred instead?"

"No," Janys cried. "But I don't see how I'm going to—"

"If you offer him the salve or drops, he will say no. But if you follow my directions, all will be well." She dropped her voice even lower. "Kronitin will never know it, but I have treated him that way several times."

"All right." Janys slipped the two offerings into the pocket with the bibalon, although she wasn't sure she would carry through on the scheme. Kronitin still waited impatiently at the doorstep as they came out.

Shalimerie hugged her goodbye. "I am glad we were finally able to talk. You must come back again on a happier day."

"I'd love that." To her surprise, Janys realized that she was already looking forward to spending more time with her new friend.

Shalimerie bestowed one more kiss on her husband, then they set out. Janys hadn't expected Kronitin to talk with her, and in fact he was silent as they wound their way across towards the cottage. Although she wished she could apologize to him for any pain he'd suffered because of her actions, she knew she would only get Shalimerie in trouble by mentioning that she knew.

Zellin threw open the door before they'd barely started up the path. "I put him to bed," he reported, glaring at Janys. "Tomorrow I will bring the doctor by."

Doctor? Janys didn't know whether to run to the bedroom to see what had happened, or flee from the evidence of her misconduct.

"Should one of us stay?" Kronitin asked.

"He says not." Zellin raised a graying eyebrow at Janys. "He says she can take care of him."

"But still— "Kronitin looked doubtful.

"Your brother can be as stubborn as your mother," the father broke in. "In his house, we must follow his wishes."

Neither man looked convinced that this off-world troublemaker could take care of their Martel, but after two gruff goodbyes, they vanished out the door. As soon as they were gone, Janys crept up the stairs. For the first time she slipped into the room where Martel slept.

He lay on his stomach dressed only in the male version of a prander. Even before she drew close, she could see he was covered with stripes and bruises from shoulder to waist Hesitantly she knelt by his side.

"Martel, what can I do help you?" she murmured.

He groaned and shifted slightly. "Not a thing," he choked out. "Please just go to bed, Janys. I will be better in the morning."

Now she understood why Shalimerie had given her the medications. "Let me at least fix you a cup of corittan," she countered. "Perhaps it will help you sleep." Especially when I use your sister-in-law's recipe.

She thought he was going to argue with her, but as with Kronitin earlier, he apparently didn't have the strength to resist. "One cup," he allowed. "Then you will go get your rest."

Before he could change his mind, she raced down to the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned holding the cup carefully. Although she hadn't dared taste it, she'd stirred the drops in thoroughly. At least in color and smell, it seemed the same chocolate mixture he sometimes made for breakfast.

He'd turned on his side so that he could take the cup from her. Now that the drink was actually in front of him, he seemed more enthusiastic. Finally he handed over the empty dish, then laid back on his stomach. "That was good," he admitted. "I had not had much to eat today. Thank you, Janys. Now if you will turn out the light—"

"Let me run this down to the kitchen first," she interrupted, rushing from the room before he could call her back. Once downstairs, she let a few minutes tick away while she rinsed out the cup, wondering why she hadn't asked Shalimerie exactly how long the drug would take to work. But by the time she crept back to the bedroom, he was sleeping soundly.

She waited a few more minutes before approaching. Unscrewing the cap, she dug the brown ointment out. Her fingers moved to his back as she touched the warm flesh, now feeling as well as seeing the damaged areas. Gently she began to spread the salve across it all.

It went on smoothly as she worked her way down until her hand cupped the curve of his backside. Feeling like a voyeur, she edged down his undergarment. As she'd suspected, his back hadn't even been the primary recipient of the blows. She brought out more ointment, smoothing it over his taut but livid buttocks, her fingers working deep between his globes to make sure she covered every inch.

Somehow the room had gotten hotter, or maybe the smell of the stuff made her dizzy. Quickly she finished off his thighs, then carefully replaced the garment. Without thinking, she bent over and kissed the top of his head. "I'm sorry," she whispered, the words feeling as meaningless as every other time she'd said or thought them all day. Slowly she turned out the light and shut his door.

She still felt lightheaded as she put the key in the lock for her bedroom. After burying the jar and bottle deeply into the Institute clothes in her trunk, she reached for her journal. "This is a barbarous planet," she wrote, "where they whip people for things that would never be crimes elsewhere." In great detail she described her day, including the condition of her husband.

"Please let someone get me out of here, before someone scars me for life!" she concluded. Yet although her hand wrote the words, they clashed with other feelings. Her understanding of Ellondelle's thoughts on structure. Her growing friendship with Shalimerie. And most of all, the tenderness that filled her as she attended Martel's beaten body, knowing he'd suffered it on her account.

That night she dreamed her hands massaged Martel's back, only his skin was smooth and he rose up from the bed to take her in his arms, pulling her down until he could feel underneath her sleep tunic. She woke up perspiring, wishing she could return to the fantasy world. Somehow she imagined she could hear his breathing even through the heavy walls. Just a few steps away lay the real thing.

You could go to him, she whispered. But you shouldn't. Not if you ever want to leave this horrible place.

Hours later she gave up on sleep to watch both suns rise from her window.