“How can you do that? Do you not live with constant regret for the years of unhappiness you had to share, with no possibility of escape?”
“Not really,” Rohana said. “It has taken us a long time to outlive unhappiness, but we have forged a bond that will last till death. And beyond,” she added, smiling, “if there is anything beyond.”
“You say this bravely,” said Jaelle, “but I think . . . oh, Rohana, I do not want to make you angry.”
“The truth could not make me angry, Jaelle. Only remember, darling, that it is your truth, and not necessarily my truth.”
“Then I think,” said Jaelle, “that because it is too late for regrets, you tell yourself you have never had them. I think you simply would not give up your power and position as wife to the lord of the Domain of Ardais.”
“Perhaps,” said Rohana, unoffended, “a marriage is spun of many small threads. Gabriel is only a part of my life, but not a part I would willingly renounce now. I did not love him when we were wed, but it would rend my heart into a thousand fragments to be parted from him now.”
Jaelle, remembering Rohana’s face as she knelt beside the unconscious man, knew dimly that this was true; but it seemed to her that this was only slavery to an ideal, and nothing like the overwhelming passion that had caught her up, almost unwillingly, into Peter’s life. She said, trembling, “That is not what I call love!”
“No, I suppose not, dear,” said Rohana, taking the small cold hands in hers, “but it is real, and it has lasted.”
“Then you think love-love as I know it-means nothing? It seems to me you think marriage can be made by any two, however they feel about one another, as if-for the first time hi a dozen years, Jaelle spoke her mother’s name-“as if Melora and Jalak . . . as if my mother, even in rape and captivity, could have built lasting happiness.”
“Even that, under some circumstances, darling. But I went consenting to my marriage, with my family’s support and blessing; Melora was torn by force from all her kin. But even then; had Jalak and Melora chosen one another, had she run away with him of her own will, or even, afterward, had he loved and cherished her for herself, and not as a pawn to his evil pride, and a memento to his hatred of her folk of the Domains- even then, perhaps, she could have found some peace; not happiness, perhaps, but content.”
“Even in chains?”
“Even so, my darling. Had Melora loved Jalak, and willed to please him, she would have known that the chains were a game he played for his pride before all men, and she would have worn them to play the game with him, willingly . . .. Jaelle, if your Amazons made up an army and marched to free the women of the Dry Towns from their chains, no doubt there are some who would hail you as their saviors; but there are others, I am sure, who would bid you turn around and march home again, and not meddle in their affairs. Would you not wear chains to please your lover, Jaelle?”
She said, “He would never ask,” but dropped her eyes, remembering her play with the ribbon; the fantasy game she had played as a little girl in the Dry Towns. She said, angry at the memory, “Had you no pity for my mother?”
“Only the Gods know how much,” Rohana said. “I risked the anger of Hastur, and came near to destroying what happiness I had found with Gabriel, to bring her away before she bore Jalak a son; and to set you free, because she said she would kill you rather than leave you chained in Jalak’s Great House. Do you not remember that?” Her eyes flamed with the beginning of anger.
Jaelle took her hand, and after a moment kissed it. Rohana said quietly, “Jaelle, many women wear their chains as I wear the catenas.” She thrust out her arm, showing her the ceremonial marriage-bracelet, whose twin was locked on Gabriel’s arm. “A token of something that would be locked upon my heart forever, even if I refused, as you will refuse, to wear the outward symbol.”