"Well, then why? Rafe isn't coming back for another month! You can be as free as you like until then-or you can escape if you want to, but please, just promise me you'll wait for better weather!"

*30 *10*.

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31.

Leo seemed to be digesting this information. "You are concerned for my welfare?"

I rolled my eyes in frustration. "It's what I do, Leo!

I'm a healer, and I don't appreciate you wasting all of my efforts to keep you alive by running off into a blizzard! I do not-and I repeat, do not! -want to have to drag you out of a snowdrift ever again! Besides," I added, giving his penis an affectionate pat and reluctantly letting go, "I happen to like this thing. I wouldn't want it to get frostbitten."

"That would not happen," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. "My species is capable of sleeping in the cold and slowing our body functions down to a very slow rate."

"You can hibernate?" I asked with genuine surprise.

"That's quite remarkable, but were you planning to stay there until spring? I mean, I can just imagine you lying there all curled up in your snowdrift and then having it melt all around you while you were still dead to the world. Then Rafe would find you and beat you to within an inch of your life the way your last master must have done, and we'd be right back where we started!"

I stopped to take an exasperated breath before saying, "Look, Leo, if you'll just trust me, maybe we can figure something out-some way to set you free without killing you in the process."

"You would do that for me?" he asked. I couldn't blame him for being skeptical, but it saddened me that he thought I wouldn't help him.

"Yes, I would," I replied earnestly. "Though I'll admit, I'd much rather keep you, myself. Desdemona *31 *11*.

32.

Cheryl Brooks has good reason to be jealous. You're addicting, you know."

His response to that was a slow, sensuous blink, after which, he began purring again. Oh, yes! He knew just exactly how addicting he was, and he was using that knowledge quite ruthlessly.

"Manipulative, too, I see. So, tell me, Leo. What should I do with you?"

His response to that was another loud, insistent purr.

"You certainly seem to have your mind fixed on sexual matters," I commented. "But if you really wanted that, you shouldn't have tried to run away."

"Slaves always look for opportunities to escape,"

he said solemnly, "but I will not attempt it again."

Something in the way he said that made me believe him, though I couldn't have said why, exactly. It might have been truth and honesty shining out from his eyes or something of that nature-who knows? "Tell me about this person, Rafe," he went on. "Do you know him well?"

"A little too well, I'm afraid," I said ruefully. "Rafe isn't a bad sort, really, he's just-" I hesitated, searching for the right words to describe him. It was difficult. "Rafe just doesn't care very much about anyone but himself- and if he ever does seem to care, there's usually a selfserving motive involved somehow."

"He was your lover?"

Honestly, he was as bad as Desdemona! Must be a trait among cats, I decided, this insight into other people's minds. "Good guess, Leo, but how did you know that?"

"I have seen much in my lifetime."

*32 *11*.

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33.

"Learned a few things, have you?" I said with a grimace. "Yes, he was my lover, but there was no future in it-for either of us, actually. It died a natural, though painful, death. I was very young, and though my mother was still here to remind me of my future duties, I thought I might somehow manage to escape my own destiny by teaming up with Rafe. I wanted to be free to pursue my own life, the way I wanted to live it." And I still did, but I remembered that time, as well as the anguish and despair I'd felt when I realized without a doubt that I had no choice, my life's path having been determined from the moment I was conceived. It simply took twenty-five years or more for me to realize it. "Of course it didn't happen, and when my mother died several years later, it was left to me to take up the responsibility of caring for those within my domain."

Leo seemed surprised by this. "She died so young?"

I nodded. "She grew sick and knew she couldn't be saved. I sometimes wonder if she told me that only to absolve me of any guilt associated with her death- though having raised her successor, she may have felt that her life as one of the chosen was already fulfilled."

"That is what you are, then? One of the chosen?"

I nodded. "And we may bear only one child, a daughter, but not just any man can father her, he must be chosen by the gods. That was why Rafe cast me off in favor of another woman-one who could give him sons." It surprised me to find that there was still pain associated with that old wound, though I wouldn't have thought it possible after so many years. But it was still there, making my heart ache and my eyes sting with unshed tears.

*33 *11*.

34.

Cheryl Brooks "He knew this even before you were lovers?"

"Yes, he knew," I replied with a tight-lipped smile.

"And so did I. It was a...a mistake. I believe he simply wanted to see if he could be the one." I sighed deeply, remembering my own disappointment, and also Rafe's inevitable reaction. "It angered him when he found that he was not." I leaned back, away from Leo, crossing my arms over my chest, as if doing so might stop the pain and loneliness from reaching my heart-to shield it in some way-but it was useless.

Turning away from him, I closed my eyes, sending tears coursing down my cheeks.

"You were more than lovers, then," Leo said gently.

"You loved him."

"Yes," I admitted. "-Or at least I thought I did.

Either way, it amounts to the same thing."

"He was your only lover?"

I shook my head. "No," I replied. "No, he was only the first. There have been others, but I haven't given my heart to any of them. My experience with Rafe taught me that much."

"But to love is a great gift," Leo disagreed. "I have loved before, and though I have lost each one, I believe it to be worth the pain, and I think of them when there is no love to be found."

Remembering how he'd been mistreated and abused by his latest owner, I hoped that, for his sake, his good memories were strong ones. Poor Leo! I'd saved him twice now, had kept him alive, only to be owned and possibly tortured again by someone else. His tenacious hold on life must seem like a curse at times-times when *34 *11*.

warrior

35.

death might be welcomed, if for no other reason than to set him free.

A log settled in the fireplace, sending sparks soaring up the chimney to seek the open air and freedom, even though they would burn away to nothing long before they ever reached the sky. I was reminded then that although Leo's chains might have been more real, he was not the only slave, not the only one who suffered, not the only one who longed for freedom.

I myself had always envied the birds their ability to go soaring through the skies, but even they had to return to the ground eventually, seeking food or respite.

But those moments of flight for the sheer joy of it; how I envied them that feeling! That spreading of the wings to leave everything else behind, if only for the briefest time. I wanted to fly, to feel joy and laughter, to feel alive and free. Free to go where I wished and love whom I pleased, without fear, and without reservation. Just once.

But I knew that these growing desires were very selfish of me, especially when someone for whom real chains were both heavy and painful lay there before me with the scars to prove it.

Staring into the fire, I watched the flames leap higher and higher until the heat grew too intense even for Desdemona, who had returned to her perch while Leo and I were talking.

"Tisana!" she complained. "Stop that! It's too hot!"

"Sorry," I whispered. Blinking and turning away from the heat, I found Leo regarding me curiously.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

*35 *11*.

36.

Cheryl Brooks "Nothing specific," I replied. "Only random thoughts."

He nodded and let it go at that, but something in his expression suggested that he wasn't convinced.

Reaching out, he took my hand and said, "But those thoughts trouble you."

"Yes, they do," I said quietly. "They trouble me a great deal." I tried to shake off the clinging remnants of self-pity and focus on the care of him instead. "But I shouldn't be thinking about such things, especially when you need to eat."

Getting to my feet, I took the bowl of porridge from the table and, with my back toward him, stared at it, stirring it with the spoon until steam began to rise from the surface. Leo accepted it gratefully from my hand, and if he thought it odd that it should be so hot after so long away from the fire, he made no comment.

I glanced over at Desdemona, now curled comfortably on the hearth. She had probably been listening in on my thoughts, only breaking into them when she deemed it necessary, but what she thought of them was a mystery. She was my companion and had been for many years, but she could still be as secretive as any other cat. Oh, she might know what I was thinking at any given time-effectively reading my mind, and sometimes even correctly interpreting my speech-but her thoughts were her own unless she directed them at me. Cats were peculiar in that respect, for while I often picked up on other conversations-I heard the mice chattering among themselves all the time-I had never been able to eavesdrop on one of hers. Having told me before that she wasn't always listening, I could hope that she hadn't been, but it was difficult to tell.

*36 *12*.

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37.

I wondered what price Leo would pay for his freedom. He'd been willing enough to risk his life for it, but at the same time he seemed so philosophical about it. I seriously doubted that I would have felt that way in his situation. He'd made his attempt to escape, and it had failed-as, quite obviously, his every other attempt had done. I suppose he'd simply keep on trying at intervals, just to see if the impossible might actually occur someday. He might even hope that someone would buy him, only to set him free. It must be the one dream that all slaves share: to finally be bought by the one master who would be a gift from the gods and the answer to all of his prayers-the one who granted him his freedom.

Unfortunately, I strongly doubted that having Rafe as a master could ever be such a gift. No, Leo's best chance at freedom from Rafe was either to feign his own death or to hope that Rafe's own life was short and that his heirs didn't survive him. Rafe had two young sons-the sons that I couldn't have given him-who were a bane to anyone seeking any of his property-property that now included Leo.

The men of our world might love their daughters dearly, but their sons were the ones who would inherit their property when they died. I was unique in that respect, for there were never any male children in my family, so no one could take my house, but I had seen it happen before; had seen marriages forced upon unwilling widows, just to enable them to go on living in their own homes. It occurred to me then that, out of all the women in this little corner of our world, I was, quite possibly, the one who enjoyed the most freedom. I *37 *12*.

38.

Cheryl Brooks should remember that more often, I decided, and spend less time envying the birds.

Leo had finished eating by then, and I showed him where the "facilities" were. My house was very old, which was possibly why no one had ever tried to take it from me, though it might also have been the fear of an angry witch that kept anyone from making the attempt.