It would not be the last time that she was to be confused over matters in which Need was involved.
Nyara had found the tower after a great deal of searching for a defensible lair. Need had rebuilt the upper story with her magic, strengthening it and making it habitable. It still looked deserted, and both of them had been very careful to leave no signs of occupancy. Any refuse was taken up to the flat roof and left there; vultures carried off bones and anything else edible, and the rest was bleached by the sun and weathered by wind and rain. Eventually the wind would carry it away, and it would be scattered below with the dead leaves.
'You're doing well,' the sword said, finally. 'Even if you do eat like a barbarian. I don't suppose table deportment is going to matter anytime soon, though.' Nyara was silent for a moment; now that her stomach was full and the little chamber warmed by the fire, she had leisure to consider the blade's remarks, and feel a bit of resentment. Nyara appreciated all that Need had done for her, attempting to counter the effects of twenty years of twisting and abuse, teaching her what she needed to survive. Still, sometimes the sword's thoughtless comments hurt.
'I'm not a barbarian,' she said aloud, a little resentfully. 'I've seen Darkwind bolt his meals just like I did.'
'Darkwind is fully human. You are not. You are clever, intelligent, resourceful, but you are not human. Therefore you must appear to be better than humans.' Once again, Nyara was struck by the injustice of the situation, but this time she voiced her protest. 'That's not fair,' she complained.
'There's no reason why I should have to act like some kind of-of trained beast to prove that I'm just as human as anyone else.'
'You were a trained animal, Nyara,' Need replied evenly. 'You aren't any longer. And we both know why.' Nyara shuddered, but did not reply. Instead, she cleaned up the remains of her meal, saving a few scraps to use as fishing bait on the morrow, and took everything up to the roof. As Need had mentioned, the vultures had been there already; there was little sign of yesterday's meal.
Although the wind was cold, Nyara lingered to watch the sunset, huddled inside her crude fur tunic with her feet tucked under her. Need was right. She had been little more than a trained animal. Her father had controlled her completely, by such clever use of mingled mindmagic, pain and pleasure that a hint of punishment would throw her into uncontrollable, mindless lust, a state in which she was incapable of thinking.
Need had freed her from that; Need had worked on her for hours, days, spending her magic recklessly in that single area, to heal her and release her from that pain-pleasure bondage. Need had watched the nomad Healer working on the Tayledras Starblade from afar, studying all that the woman did and applying the knowledge to Nyara.
In this much, she was free; she would no longer be subject to animal rut. Although Need had not been able to 'cure' her tufted ears, pointed canines, or slit-pupiled eyes, the blade had put her in control of her emotional and physical responses.
Must I really be more than they are to be accepted as an equal? Nothing less would do, according to Need, and as she watched the stars emerge, she came to the reluctant conclusion that the blade was right. She had to be accepted as at least an equal to claim alliance with the Hawkbrothers.
She needed them, and knew it, although they did not yet know how much they needed her. She had information that would be very useful to them, even if some of it was information they might have to get at using Need's mind-probing tactics. She would gladly submit to that, to have their protection.
But to earn that, did she have to give up what she was, to take on some kind of mask of what they considered civilized? That simply wasn't fair, not after everything she had already been through! What Falconsbane had done-she didn't want to think about. And under Needs' tutelage, she had not only undergone the pain that preceded Healing, but nightly-and sometimes daily-vision-quests. She had to admit there was one positive result of that; her real dreams were no longer haunted, and her nightmares had vanished completely. The sword was as hard a teacher as she could have imagined; driving her without allowance for weakness.
Not only did she take Nyara through trials in her dreams, and teach her the skills that helped her survive on her own, but she launched Nyara like an arrow against whatever target she deemed suitable, giving her lessons in real combat as well as practice. Nyara had already defeated a wandering bandit and a half-mad hedge-wizard. Both had been left for the vultures when they had seen only a female alone, and attempted to take her. In both cases, Need had ultimately taken command of her body, as soon as she reckoned that Nyara had gone to the very edge of her abilities, and moved her with a skill she did not, herself, possess.
There would, doubtless, be more such in the future.
So why must she prove that she was something other than she was to be accepted?
No, she decided as she watched the moon rise above the horizon. It was not fair. Need wanted too much of her.
She descended to her tower-top chamber only to find the fire burning down to coals and the sword silent. She watched it for a moment, then shrugged philosophically and heated just enough water for a sketchy sort of bath. One advantage of her breeding, besides her owl-keen nightsight, was that the pelt of very short, very fine fur that covered her body made bathing less of a chore than it was for full humans. And one had to be very, very close to her to learn that it was fur, and not just smooth skin.
She wasn't entirely certain that either Skif or Darkwind had figured it out. Well-perhaps Skif had. He hadn't seemed to mind.
Morning would arrive far too early. Although she intended to fish and not hunt, it would still be better to do so in the early morning when the fish were hungry. So as soon as she had cleaned herself, she banked the fire, and crawled into her bed of furs.
Only then did Need speak, just as she was falling asleep.
'Let's explore that business of 'fair, ': the sword said, with deceptive mildness. 'Shall we?'
Nyara was no longer Nyara; no longer a Changechild. In fact, she was no longer in the world or the body she knew.
Except that she was Nyara; she was herself and someone else, too.
She relaxed; this was something she had experienced in Need's dreamquests many times, although this was someone she'd never been before.
