Although she knew it would be a while before her body would again enjoy his embraces, Janys felt better having Martel back beside her in bed. She finished off the last of the sleeping drops, then gently laid her hand on his while she nodded off.

The next day she spent recuperating on her own. Kronitin stopped by to let her know Shalimerie would be staying at home to look after Chardontal. "He is in the grumpy stage of recovering from a cold," his father apologized.

He offered to fetch Elondelle as a substitute, but Janys waived him away. Despite the older woman's recent kindness, she decided she'd rather pass the day with the mystery anthology Martel picked up at his friend Rodogan's. With a few strategically placed pillows, she found she could recline well enough to get immersed in the stories without being distracted by each ache and pain.

That night she felt able to join her husband at the dinner table, where he served several of her favorite dishes along with several glasses filled to the top with winotal. She must have dozed off as he cleared the table, because when she opened her eyes, she again lay in bed, his arm circling her hip.

She woke up the next morning in darkness to find Martel already getting dressed. "Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all." Sitting down on the bed, he leaned over and kissed her. "I just want to get to the Council meeting early so they can take me up as the first thing on the agenda. That way I can make my report and still get to the center on time."

She held him to her a few moments longer. "Once you speak to them, will all this be over?"

"The Council will still have its concerns. After all, not even two decedonners have passed since our wedding." Taking her hands, he brushed his lips against her fingertips. "Although we have experienced so many things in that time it seems as though it should have been longer."

Less than an Earth month, she marveled. Yet despite all the pain, fear and anger that time had brought, she'd found joy in being with this man.

"Tadewidan and the others may continue to observe us, but as long as no law is broken, they will not interfere. I will also ask them to release my mother from any responsibility for teaching or supervising you." Again he caressed her lips before he standing up. "Once the forbinner is completely behind you, we have many wonderful things to explore.

While he dressed, she debated the merits of breakfast versus additional sleep, deciding on the latter. It seemed like only seconds later she felt him shaking her shoulder. "Janys, the Council needs to see you."

"What?" Morning sunlight flooded their bedroom as she squinted at him. "You've already been to the meeting? What happened? Didn't they believe you?"

"I never had a chance to speak." He breathed heavily, as though he'd run all the way from town. "Before I even got into the meeting hall, Tadewidan told me to come back and fetch you."

"That's ridiculous!" Every inch of her skin protested as she forced herself to sit up. "They must know what kind of shape I'm in after the other day. Now they want me to walk all the way to town? Why can't they just ask you for whatever they need?"

"Janys, if I knew, I would tell you. Here." He handed her a tunic. "We need to hurry. They said they would not be able to start until we got there."

"Martel—you don't think—" her hands froze on the material. Could Tadewidan and Company have changed their mind about the extent of her punishment? Perhaps romage wasn't enough, and they were going to demand he whip her hard enough to leave scars.

He slid his hands onto her trembling shoulders. "They have no reason to challenge your forbinner. I carried it out with their approval in accordance with our customs. But I sense it may be something different. Tadewidan seemed distracted."

"Okay." She breathed deeply as she hauled her aching body into her outside clothes. If they're dragging me down there just so they can see for themselves—well, I'll show them what I can be like in the grumpy stage of my own recovery.

"Wait!" Another disturbing thought popped into her head. Although she'd had only winotal the night before, Janys had no idea how long Shalimerie's sleeping drops might stay in her system. "Are they going to test my blood to see if I've taken anything—"

He shook his head. "No, I administered the correction, and only I would have the right to punish you for avoiding the consequences. But I invited Shalimerie here to help you, so everything had my blessing. The Council may disapprove of my decision, but no one has the right to countermand it."

Martel tried to be considerate as he helped her along the path, but she still resented being hurried. The soles of her feet pressed painfully against the ground, and every other part of her body longed to be back in bed. By the time they reached the meeting hall, Janys felt like screaming.

As they passed through the door, the Elders immediately stopped talking among themselves. "Mistress Janys has now arrived," Tadewidan intoned. "We may begin."

"Begin what?" She might have stopped blaming the Council for the forbinner itself, but not the way Tadewidan dealt with her. "Show and tell? Why didn't you just let Martel literally give you the blow-by-blow? Or Elondelle can tell you about the results, unless you don't trust her either."

The Elder regarded her coldly. "This is not about your forbinner, though we are pleased it has been completed. No, Mistress Janys, you have a visitor. Someone who believes we have you under lock and key, and insisted we produce you immediately."

A visitor? Janys steadied herself against Martel's arm. Of course, it could be the Ambassador. Or one of the Protector's representatives, or even someone from the Interplanetary Court of Justice.

Or the one she knew it would be, even before Tadewidan asked if she was familiar with a Professor William Rickman. "Yes," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "I worked with him at the Institute."

"The ICJ granted his request to serve as special investigator into the circumstances of your stay with us," the Elder continued. "Specifically, they told us we must allow him to interview you."

"Here?" Despite her best efforts, she felt a slow burn creeping over her face as she imagined being probed by the Professor in front of the Council and Martel.

Tadewidan immediately dispelled the vision. "In private. Unless you consider him dangerous and require protection."

Janys stifled a hysterical giggle. While she'd never considered the Prof safe, he'd never lifted a hand to her, while Tadewidan and the others had considered sending her to death or scarring her for life. "No, I'll talk with him alone," she told the Council as Martel squeezed her hand more firmly than necessary.

The Elder stared at her. "I remind you of your promises to retain our confidentiality. Unless the ICJ removes you from our jurisdiction, we will continue to enforce those laws."

"I have no doubt of that," she shot back, her buttocks and thighs again protesting the effects of the Council's previous enforcement effort. "But I intend to keep my promises."

But did she? Maybe Mistress Janys did, but what about Janys Livingston? Would seeing the Professor wipe out everything that had happened to her on Demeter? Perhaps the person she'd recently become would disappear, and she'd change back into the researcher whose true life existed far from this planet.

Fortunately Tadewidan couldn't read her mind. "Good." He motioned to the two men who'd escorted Janys to her trial. "Tell Professor Rickman we are ready to have him join us."

As the audience turned towards the back of the hall to get their first glimpse of the offlander, Janys wondered if this whole morning might not be the product of the sleeping drops. Rescue, yes—she'd prayed for it both before and after the wedding, but she'd never imagined the Prof actually showing up on Demeter. Yet that was certainly him coming towards her in a three-piece suit with matching handkerchief and tie, showing the backwood planets how an Institute man dresses.

Despite herself she broke away from Martel's grasp and moved forward to meet him. He embraced her swiftly, the pain wracking her body. At first she thought he intended to kiss her on the lips, but his mouth merely touched her cheek. "Hang in there, sweetie," he whispered in her ear. "I'm going to get you out of all this."

She drew back, bumping into Martel as the Prof whirled around. "Elder," he addressed Tadewidan. "I am glad to find Ms. Livingston alive, though considering the marks on her arms and legs, I wouldn't say she's particularly well."

"Mistress Janys recently accepted correction for disobeying our law," the younger man retorted. "She will soon recover completely."

"Perhaps," the professor responded. "But I need to hear that from the lady herself. Alone."

Tadewidan gestured behind him. "As I told you, we will make our Council chambers available for that purpose."

Prof shook his head. "And as I told you, I prefer the shuttle. You understand my interest in making sure she has the opportunity to speak freely."

"Just as you understand our interest that our new citizen not be spirited out of our jurisdiction until the ICJ makes a final ruling," the Elder countered.

"Then let us satisfy both our interests, plus that of the ICJ in knowing her current conditions, by having her show me where she lives." The Professor's blue eyes gleamed, and Janys knew he'd never expected to be allowed to take her on the ship. Even if permission had been granted, she doubted he'd risk his position with the Institute to illegally whisk her away.

At first she thought Tadewidan would reject the second suggestion as well, but after exchanging glances with the others, he nodded. "We will stay here in session until you report back to us the interview has been concluded. Mistress Janys, in light of your physical circumstances, afterwards you may remain at home unless we require your presence."

"Good!" the Prof responded brightly. "If you're all going to be here anyway, perhaps you could give my assistant some background information on the events." A young woman with glossy black hair and too-blue eyes stepped forward.

Pamela Something. Janys remembered her vaguely from her last year at the Institute. The one who sat on the front row in the Prof's seminar on religious protocols. A slight quiver in the girl's throat revealed she was subvocalizing into an implant…

"That will not be necessary." Tadewidan frowned. "We have described the events fully in our filing with the Court, and we prefer the issues not be confused. Your assistant may remain planetside until you are ready to return to your shuttle, but I do not believe any of our people will betray our trust by speaking with her, or you either, other than as required to satisfy the ICJ directive." Although he addressed the professor, his kept his eyes trained on Janys.

Look how he's boxed me in. No one else will speak to the Prof or this Pamela person, so if anything leaks out, they'll know it came from me. And I'll get another turn on the spanking bench—or worse. She couldn't keep from shuddering.

Martel pulled her against him. "Are you sure you are not afraid of this man? If you wish, I will follow along behind where I can see but not hear."

"No, that won't be necessary.". Again she struggled to keep from laughing. All these people who believed in causing each other intense physical pain thought she'd be scared of someone whose major weapon was silence? How could she tell her husband she was much more afraid of herself? Especially what she might say or do when no one else could hear.

"Then I will wait here, and come home when he returns." She didn't think she could stand it if he kissed her goodbye, yet felt she'd lost something when Martel merely stepped back, clearing her way to the door.

The Prof held a whispered conference with Pamela, then turned to Janys. "Let's go."

Again he bent to her ear. "The sooner I return, the sooner we can get you back to the Institute."

They stepped out into dry heat as the Prof flipped on his visors. For a second he forgot she was there as he made a full turn, studying each direction. "I'm curious. Where are the other settlements?"

Assuming he'd had a map on hand, he could have figured it out for himself, so she didn't think she'd be breaking any law to provide geographical guidance. "Lycarta's that way." She pointed across the square down towards the building where she'd been held while waiting for her trial. "About nine meters following the stream. Katerie and Pertrotal are in the opposite direction on the lake, around twenty meters away."

They started towards the north end of the square as the Prof continued. "Katerie's populated entirely by women, while Petrotal is all men?"

Janys could tell the Prof already knew the answer. After all, that information had been available to both of them before she ever set foot on Demeter. But it was hard for her to stop giving him answers to simple background questions, even if she suspected he asked them only to lead her back into her old role. "Yes, that's right."

"And the difference between Wyteen and Lycarta, where both men and women live?"

"Who enforces the laws." She clamped her mouth shut, knowing she would be perilously close to violating her promises if she provided more detail.

At that moment they passed by the spot where Janys had heard Mistress Plettigan's cries the day of her trial. Although she'd heard from Shalimerie that others had received public correction since then, thankfully the place had always been vacant when she'd been in the area.

Even without people to demonstrate, Janys knew Prof guessed the use of the wooden structure occupying the small platform. He halted, then climbed on it. Automatically she followed him up.

"Fascinating," he murmured as he ran his palm over the sun-blistered surface, dipping into the hollow under one of the straps. "I haven't seen anything like this since Olde England or Colonial America. Do these function as stocks for making people stand out in this heat, or are they just restraints while other forms of corporal punishment are administered?"

Just restraints, she wanted to say, but stopped herself. "I can't discuss any of that with you."

Again he made a 360-degree turn around the square, stopping to study the small group of people standing outside the meeting hall before facing her again. "Janys, I can't do my report unless I know exactly what's happened to you. Now, no one can hear us out here. Tell me."

"But there's nothing I can tell you!" she muttered.

He grabbed her hand and pressed it against the wood. "Did they put you in this?"

Even though she'd never been strapped down out here, she flinched, remembering the bench Martel forced her to lie on for her punishment. "I can't tell you," she whispered, trying to pull away.

Prof dropped her hand. "My darling, I know they beat you. If that sadistic son-of-a-bitch running things back there hadn't admitted it, I could have told from the way you stand and move as though every step hurts. Now tell me what happened so I can help you."

So much of her wanted to answer him. To collapse in his arms and describe everything about the paddling and switching and waxing About feeling the strap across her nipples and between her legs. Even though the Prof had the stomach of a galactic sociologist, she knew he'd be horrified.

If she just let it spill out, he'd comfort here. Maybe not out in the square with the folks around the meeting hall staring at them, but back at the cottage where they could be truly alone for the first time in—how long? Between his projects, her assignments, and their frequent fallings out, it must be almost an Earth year.

But that was the home she shared with Martel, who'd suffered so much to save her life. Someone who held and loved her while Prof undoubtedly switched to Pamela to fill in the gaps in his marriage.

"You said you wanted to see where I live with my husband?" She emphasized the last two words. "Then we need to keep going up this path."

He frowned, then looked back across the square. As he stepped off the platform, he smiled. "I think I see. Yes, let's get there as soon as possible so we can continue this discussion with more privacy."

No, you don't see at all. But then how could he? Even Janys wasn't sure what would happen when they reached the cottage. She only wished he'd slow down for a moment as he barreled down the walkway, oblivious to the strain his pace put on her aching limbs.

It wasn't until they reached the split-off point for Kronitin and Elondelle's home that he held back, allowing her to take the lead. Glancing back towards town, he put a finger across his lips, listening intently. "I don't think they followed us."

"I’m sure they didn't." If she'd felt cross at Martel for hurrying her to the meeting, she felt doubly so with the Professor for marching her this way on the return. But then when had he ever noticed her trying to keep up with him as he loped to classes or his office?

She took him the rest of the way to the door, pushing it open. "No locks?" he commented.

"Not necessary." After all, most adults wouldn't risk a trip to the platform in the square to steal the simple food or goods they'd find in most homes.

Despite his claim he needed to investigate her living situation, Prof spent only a few minutes circling through the lower portion of the residence. He stopped in the living room to stare at the marital paddle. Taking it down from the wall, he turned it different ways as though assessing its dimensions. After replacing it, he pulled out a notebook about the size of her bibalon and jotted something in it.

He looked up at her, pen still in hand. "Your 'husband' has used this on you, hasn't he?"

She'd expected to hear sympathy, or sadness, or even anger in his voice. Some sort of emotional reaction that someone he'd once claimed to love had been injured. But the only thing she could identify was excitement. The heart-pounding, throat-drying reaction of a researcher discovering something big.

"I'm not going to discuss it with you." And not just because I'd be breaking my vow. How had she expected comfort from someone viewing her as "Subject J" for his next paper?

"Janys, stop being silly—". He scribbled in the notebook. "There are three questions the ICJ wanted me to ask. Look at them, and then tell me if you can answer any of them."

He handed her the notebook. "ARE YOU AFRAID THEY'RE WATCHING OR LISTENING TO US? IF SO, SAY YOU NEED ME TO EXPLAIN QUESTION ONE."

Of course she felt tempted. One small lie, and she could have it all back. Her work, her friends. Her relationship with the Prof. Her old life.

Yes, she could go back to her research, traveling from planet to planet making smug observations without any real understanding. Hang around with Institute folks like Pamela, wondering whether someone saw their friendship as a step up the hierarchy. Spend more nights alone in her room guessing when next she'd come up on the Prof's dance card. Was that what she'd considered a life?

Instead she shook her head. "No one's listening. I don't think they have the technology to do it, and even so, they wouldn't have time to set it up."

"Are you sure?" He looked around the room, then cocked his ear. "Ever since we came in I felt like someone else was here."

Janys paused as well, but could hear nothing but the dry breeze stirring the kitchen curtains. "No, we're completely alone."

"Then why can't you talk with me?"

"Because the things you want to hear about are private. Between my husband and me," she added…

Scowling, he shoved the notebook back into his pocket. The tip of his tongue slid along the edge of his front teeth as he studied her as a puzzle box, looking for the place to spring her open. "I don't know what they've done to you, sweetie, but I don't like it. All right, if you can't speak about it, just show me. Lift up your tunic and I'll see for myself what happened."

"No." Quickly she slipped beyond grabbing distance.

"One last time, " he pressed, clearly exasperated. "What can you tell me about your time here?"

All the way along the path, she'd tried to figure out what she could say without violating confidentiality. As long as she stayed within the things the Prof already knew, she should be safe. "I broke the law, and I accepted their punishment. It's over now, and I don't want to discuss it."

"And this marriage they forced you into?" The professor's eyes raked her as if she'd given the wrong answer in his seminar. "Is that over as well?"

"No, of course not," she murmured. "And I don't want it to be." Until she said the words, she didn't realize how much she meant them.

"I see." He continued to appraise her. "Then why don't you finish taking me on the grand tour of this scene of marital bliss?"

She led him upstairs, his feet harsh on the steps, standing back so he could inspect the old-fashioned bathroom. Thankfully the guest room door was closed, and Prof didn't bother to open it. Even if she never said a word to him about the spanking bench, she knew it would feature prominently in his report.

Instead he headed into the room she shared with Martel. She'd pulled the quilt over everything before leaving for the meeting, but it still looked rumpled. Nonetheless he sat down on the edge and patted the spot by his side. "Come here."

She eased herself down beside him, making sure neither their sides nor legs touched. Now she could breathe in his aftershave, the spicy stuff made from the red pine trees on Nicto Andolanus. Janys bought him his first bottle when he'd taken her there for her first assignment. At the last Christmas gathering at the Institute, his wife bragged about finding an importer to replenish his supply.

"Janys, sweetie, I can't pretend I understand all of this." His brown eyes gazed warmly into hers as he clasped her right hand between his two palms. "I know something went horribly wrong with your assignment here, and I don't know all the details. Maybe somehow you've embraced all this corporal punishment stuff. But that's not the person I remember."

Isn't it? She thought how many times she'd broken the rules. Pushed him to anger, but instead of confronting her, he'd withdrawn, making her feel hurt and alone. Their fights stretched over days, and even when he started speaking to her again, she never believed he'd truly forgiven her.

So different from Martel. Even though he'd been angry when he'd spanked her on their wedding night, and stern afterwards when he made sure she understood what she'd done, he'd returned to his normal self by the time they christened the marital paddle. She still remembered how gently he'd patted her shoulder before going to his separate room.

But how could she explain this to Prof? That although she dreaded the actual spankings, she liked having someone pay attention to what she did. No matter how busy Martel might be, he always took the time to discipline her. Although he never stinted on the "corrective" aspect, he combined it with fairness and love. Best of all, once he'd addressed a matter with her that way, he never brought it up again.

"It's hard for me to explain," she allowed. "I guess you're right—I've changed a lot…"

"Brainwashing," he murmured. "Stockholm Syndrome. You've started identifying with your captors."

"It's not that way." Or was it? How else could she have forgiven Martel so quickly for the strapping?

Again he studied her. "Sweetie, I know I can't win this by argument. You're a proud person, and I know how hard it must have been to submit to these punishments. Now you want to defend that submission by telling me you accept it. But what you really need to be telling me are things I can use it to get you out of here."

She bit her lip, her thoughts racing. Maybe the Prof was right. Could all her feelings be suspect, a way of justifying her failure to resist more strenuously? Shouldn't she have protested every time Martel or his mother raised a hand to her? Instead she'd obediently fetched paddles and bared her skin for torment.

"Good, I think you're coming back to me." The Professor's left hand cupped her chin. "Now do it all the way." He drew her towards his waiting mouth.

What about Martel? she screamed as her body betrayed her, her lips and arms seeking out the familiar positions. How long she'd waited to be with the Professor again. To have him rescue her. She closed her eyes as he eased her down, her tongue seeking his.

Her back touched the bed, jarring her with pain. Suddenly she remembered Martel lying across it, his shoulders livid with bruises and welts from the whipping he'd taken for helping her. Remembered how they'd made love, or simply lain together under the quilt. Was she really going to betray him in their own marriage bed?

Yes, part of her replied. As always with the Prof, you take what's offered when it comes around. How can you care about a husband you beats you? Whom you didn't want to marry? Isn't this the man you truly love?

"No," she cried, squirming out from under him. "This is wrong!"

He rolled off her and sat up. "Because of that wedding bracelet on your wrist? A sham ceremony which the Court can easily put aside."

"But I told you downstairs—I don't want to end it." Hurriedly she pulled herself back on the edge of the bed. "Maybe at the beginning it was a sham, but now—it's real." And it's Martel I want to be with, she realized with wonder.

"Real." Her tunic had ridden up, revealing an angry red line left by the strap. Before she could duck out of the way, his finger traced it on her thigh. "That's what looks real to me."

She jerked the tunic down. "I told you I broke the law, and I got punished. It won't happen again."

"You hope. You know, these customs you won't talk about aren't as secret as you think." He stared into her eyes. "When I found out we weren't going to be able to get your research, I asked Pamela to track down folks who used to live here. She found one lady who said she's never coming back, so she told us a lot of things."

He patted her right side. "I know you keep a book in there—something that sounds a little like 'bible' but longer—and you have to write down everything wrong you do. Then every ten days comes the reckoning, probably delivered by that paddle downstairs. Plus sweetie, knowing how stubborn you can be, I expect you're spending extra time over your husband's knee. Now is that your idea of a good marriage?"

She didn't know how to answer. No, it hadn't been her idea of a good marriage, but who was he to judge? At least Martel's relationship with her didn't include lying or stepping out with

students. "How's your wife?"

"Andrea?" He looked as though she'd asked him if he'd gone down lately on the Protector. "Why are you asking?"

"We were talking about marriage," she responded coolly. "I was just wondering. I hadn't seen her for a long time."

"Same as always," he replied, folding his hands in his lap. "Still doesn't like to travel. I invited her to come along this time as well, but she wanted to stay at the Institute."

"And Pamela?"

He paused as if having difficulty placing the name, then turned his eyes away. "A good researcher. Young, but strong on detail. Takes directions well. She does everything I ask her to."

I bet she does, Janet added silently.

"Look, sweetie, I don't know what this is all about." Although he tried to put his arm around her shoulders, she shrugged him away. "We miss you at the Institute. We need you back there where you belong."

Always "we". Never would William Rickman admit he missed or needed anyone, whether it was poor Andrea, raising the kids in the family residential quarters at the Institute, or his former top research assistant. Even Pamela probably had a replacement coming through the program.

"Well, I don't think I belong there anymore," she said as she stood up and faced him. "Even if I did, you're not guaranteeing the Court will take over this case, just that someone might listen if I tell you the right horror stories."

"No, I can't guarantee it, but consider this." He rose as well, smoothing down his suit. "I've got an ear at the Court who hates this tortured women stuff. She told me if I brought back evidence you'd been touched in any way not condoned by the ICJ, she'd talk the rest of the justices into moving this whole mess to their stomping ground. I can't imagine those folks finding you did anything wrong, but even so, all you'd get is a short confinement at the Institute, or perhaps just a retraining course. Under my supervision."

She tried to laugh. "But I told you—I've already received correction. Why would I want to be put on trial a second time?"

"Wouldn't it be worth it to get out of a life sentence on this planet?"

The words jolted her. This wasn't about keeping her out of Kollent, or saving her from the forbinner. Even if she no longer felt like running back to the Institute, did she feel secure enough in her feelings for Martel to give up the rest of the universe? If the Professor abandoned her appeal, she might well spend the rest of her life here.

She couldn't pretend she and Martel knew each other well enough or had spent sufficient time together to be certain their marriage would succeed. Or what if he died suddenly? Even if the Council allowed her to emigrate, she might not have the funds to pay her way back to the Institute. Did she really want to cut off her last escape clause?

"I can't give you any evidence," she said finally. All right, she wouldn't break her vows. But she also wouldn't be the one to tell him to dismiss the case. If for once Prof could just feel his way through the contradictions and understand why she couldn't say more, maybe—

But she could tell he didn't understand. "All I need is something. Anything. If you can't talk about what's happened to you, maybe you have some notes from before—"

She shook her head.

"Janys, please. If you don't want us to see each other anymore except professionally, I won't touch you again. But you don't need to exile yourself here. "

How typical. While she wrestled with her feelings for Martel and her new attitude towards discipline, the Professor believed she'd made all this happen as a way of ending things with him.

"I'm not going to break my promises or the laws," she told him. "Whatever you do has to be without my help."

Almost she wavered, seeing the way he looked at her. The gaze of someone saying a final good-bye. "You're really going to give up this last chance?"

"Yes." In two more seconds, she would start crying.

"That's it then, Janys, " he said heavily. "Without your cooperation, I can't get anywhere. I'll tell my friend at the ICJ you've chosen to remain."

Slowly he stood up and walked to the door. Turning, he gave her one last look. "Goodbye and good luck, sweetie. I don't think I have to tell you how much you're going to need it."

Then he was gone. She waited until she heard the door close downstairs, then ran for the bathroom. Someone once told her if you splashed water on your face while crying, your eyes wouldn't get as red.

Although she knew Martel would soon be home, she didn't think she could face him so quickly. He'd be happy about her refusal to cooperate with the appeal, and overjoyed that uncertainty had lifted from their lives. But how could she explain her feelings about the Professor? Or worse yet, that she'd allowed him to kiss her?

One person might understand her mixed emotions. Her body still complaining with each step, she started towards Shalimerie's house, only to run into her on the path.

"I was coming to see you!" her friend announced. "Kronitin saw Martel waiting outside the meeting hall, so he went over to see what was going on. While he was there, this Professor Rickman dashed by, collected some woman from inside, and headed to his shuttle."

"Did he say anything?"

She shook her head. "Tadewidan tried to question him, but he just said there was no need for him to stay any longer."

So he really is gone. Janys grabbed Shalimerie's arm and steered her back towards her own home. If the meeting had ended, she must have just missed Martel coming on the path from town.

"Where's Chardontal?" she asked as they went inside the curiously quiet residence.

"With Kronitin. Dr. Alaniette wanted us to bring him by her clinic today for a check-up. Chardontal was still fussing about going when his father stopped by to tell me about the Council, so he took him." Shalimerie rolled her eyes. "So young, and still he would rather go with daddy rather than mommy."

Janys declined the offer of a mid-morning snack, certain her still jumping stomach couldn't handle it. She arranged herself as comfortably as possible on the couch while Shalimerie settled down on her favorite chair.

Her friend clutched a pillow across her chest. "Tell me everything—who is this man who came to see you?"

With no child to interrupt them, Janys began way back in her Institute days, when she'd first met the dapper Professor Rickman. How he'd offered to mentor her, staying after hours to answer her questions. How those encounters gradually moved from the classroom to the pub, then the floor of his office. "I didn't want to get involved with him that way," she confessed. "But I couldn't help it."

Shalimerie patted her knee. "I know. My life would have been easier if I had walked away from Kronitin. Many things may be right even if they seem wrong to others."

"This was wrong all the way. His wife—Andrea always treated me kindly at faculty functions. She never understood why I began going the other way at parties or stopped coming to her holiday open house."

"Did you feel bad about her at the time?" The other woman tossed the question out like yarn to a kitten.

Janys shook her head. "Sometimes. But I figured she must have done something to drive him away, or why would he want to be with me? Then I found out about the others, and I didn't know whether to feel better or worse. How could I be responsible unless I was the only one? But now that I'm married—well, it would destroy me to find out Martel had anyone else, whether it was one person or many."

"Yes, that news can be devastating." For a moment Shalimerie's face darkened as though she intended to continue, but instead she fell silent.

"There's something more," Janys admitted. "At least at first, I enjoyed taking him away from another person." She shifted on the couch, slipping off her shoes and pulling up her legs to take the pressure off her sore thighs. "That sounds awful to say, but it made me feel powerful."

"And when you are a young student being wooed by an older man, powerful is a great way to feel," her friend pointed out. "Today you became truly powerful by standing up to him and letting him go."

"Maybe."

"No maybe about it," Shalimerie told her firmly. "Now all you must do is tell Martel

about him."

Janys leaned back and closed her eyes. "I don't think I can do that. He'd be upset I used to run around with a married man. My teacher, no less. And that even if I didn't break my marriage vows today, I came awfully close."

"I know you are not one to kiss and tell," the other woman assured her. "And I have secrets from Kronitin from the days before we married. But this is different. I think Martel would understand if you let him know why this man appeared today, and how you sent him away."

"I don't know." How could he understand the part where I sat on our bed and let Prof kiss me?

Shalimerie seemed to read her mind. "When you have shared intimate times with someone, it is impossible to deny their existence. In time, things alter as you move on to other partners, and the relationship fades in brightness. You should not blame yourself for having feelings today or for not treating your Professor Rickman as you might a stranger."

"It's just that I never told anyone about him before," Janys told her. "At the Institute—it would have hurt both of us if it had come out. I didn't feel I could trust anyone there so absolutely, and I really didn't have people outside the Institute."

"Until now?" Shalimerie laughed. "I am honored. But it is good to talk. Sometimes hiding keeps relationships going longer than they should. I know I feared when Kronitin and I finally told our families that it might all fall apart. No more thrills from prowling around the school at night, or covering up with our friends."

Janys saw what she meant. How exciting it had been the first day after Prof came to her bed, knowing none of her colleagues suspected. To her shame, although she'd begun avoiding Andrea Rickman after the first night, secretly she treasured the knowledge that although the other woman held the position, her hold on her husband's heart was much less secure. Would those moments in his arms been half as wonderful if he'd been single and they'd dated openly?

"I just feel so guilty!"

"But you have come to the right place to get rid of guilt, love." Shalimerie's green eyes danced with amusement. "Though I suspect you will not like my suggestion! Open up with Martel about the Professor. Then as soon as your backside can take it again, he will paddle away that kiss and everything else bothering you now."

She understood what Shalimerie wanted her to do. End the secrecy and offer her body for correction. But the Professor's words made her wonder how she could even think of telling Martel, knowing he might return her to the spanking bench. "I just don't think I can do that," she admitted. "Look, I've yet to write down anything in the bibalon except for what people tell me. I just can't see myself soliciting a paddling."

"Then just tell him the background story," Shalimerie suggested. "Martel may be displeased to learn you had an affair, but he has no control over things that happened before your marriage. The kiss today, yes—he could wear out your bottom for that—but nothing from the past unless you give him permission."

"You're talking about venatin?" Janys recalled Elondelle's discussions of a fourth type of discipline. She hadn't paid much attention because she couldn't understand why anyone would ever deliberately seek to be punished. "I don't want to try that either."

"As you wish," Shalimerie shrugged. "Someday I hope you will realize how much easier life can be when you confess your errors and allow them to be corrected, instead of carrying all the guilt around. But I know you have not been with us long, and it is always hard to recommend punishment to someone still recovering from forbinner."

"I do appreciate your listening to me." Although Janys didn't think she'd follow her friend's advice, she felt better telling someone.

"One thing to remember about Martel," Shalimerie added. "He is not a man who likes surprises. If you think he might find out about your relationship with the Professor from someone else—"

"What?" Janys choked out the words. "Are you planning to tell Kronitin?"

"No, of course not!" The other woman smiled reassuringly. "Only if he asks me specifically about today, and then only if he has good reason to do so. But that never happens. The men know friends must have confidences, and Kronitin will not force me to breach them."

Janys found herself able to breathe again as happy shrieks from outside told them Chardontal had survived his trip to the doctor, but Martel surprised Janys by bursting through the door first. His face lit up when he saw her. "I was afraid something had happened. That professor left so quickly, I thought you might have had trouble with him."

"He didn't like it when I wouldn't tell him what he wanted to hear." Fortunately Shalimerie was too occupied with her son to participate in the conversation. Janys knew she wouldn't volunteer anything, but her body language might raise questions. "Now he's going to dismiss the appeal."

Martel's grin broadened. "I should make you write down ten strokes for leaving without telling me where you were going. Fortunately Yagote pointed me over here—my mother sent her over to clean our place so you could rest, and she saw you walking in this direction.

Janys blushed. "I just had a couple of things I wanted to ask Shalimerie."

"Because I found you quickly, and because I can stop working so much if we no longer have the appeal to worry about, I think we can skip the bibilon entry today."

"Would you like to join us for lunch?" Shalimerie asked. "I have enough for everyone."

"Thank you, but Yagote had something underway when I left." Martel gave his sister-in-law a peck on the cheek. "Maybe I will take the rest of the afternoon off and celebrate with my beautiful wife. Finally we can live without either the Council or ICJ peeking over our shoulders."

Just as I will live without the Professor, Janys reminded herself as she took her husband's hand and headed home.