An Oath to Mida

14 A place of meeting—and an exchange of slaves

Although the snow had ceased before attaining too great a depth, riding the next fey proved more difficult than it had previously. The lanthay plowed through the mounds, sometimes jumping from one place to another, and more than one of the village females had to be seated behind a male to keep her from falling to the snow. Our progress was slow until we reached a rising of the ground, and then we were able to continue more easily, for it seemed the snow lay to a lesser depth there. None seemed pleased by the presence of new snow, and Lialt looked constantly upon the deep gray of the skies, his worry clear to any with eyes. Should the snow come again, and in larger quantity, the journey so eagerly begun might well end no farther than the woods we rode.

When Lialt rode ahead to join Ceralt, Telion came forward to pace his lanthay beside mine, saying no word yet looking upon me with satisfaction. With the arrival of the new light, Telion had requested my use from Ceralt, saying that thoughts of Larid during the darkness had rendered him nearly unable to ride. Ceralt had commiserated with the other male’s need, yet had shocked me by pronouncing the decision mine. It would not always be mine to decide, he had said, yet at that moment, my use was mine to give or keep. Telion had turned calm eyes upon me, unangered by Ceralt’s decision, and all had watched me closely for my decision. There was little to think upon in the matter, for I did not wish Telion’s use, yet I was not given time to voice this decision. Telion, perhaps seeing the thoughts of a war leader in my eyes, quickly took me in his arms, saying he would allow me longer to think upon the thing, and then put his lips upon mine. Filled with indignation, I sought to free myself, yet amid the laughter of Ceralt and Lialt, Telion had little difficulty calling forth the heat in me. The decision which was to be mine then became a raging need, much to the satisfaction of Telion, who then saw well to his own need. With his hands and lips upon me, I had not been able to deny him, and thought of this disturbed me more than having been forced to his service. Was it not solely Ceralt but all males to whom my body was enslaved? Would there come a fey when I found myself unable to deny any of them? If this were so, what then would become of her who had once been a war leader of Hosta? Seated upon my lanthay, I shivered as though from the cold, yet the cold had come no farther through my leathers and furs than ever.

A short, thin gust of wind blew, seemingly alone in the area between the trees, stirring the cold and the fur of my lanthay, passing well below the motionless roof of gray in the skies. All Midanna knew that the stronger the wind, the sooner the change from fair skies to foul or foul to fair, and apparently the lands of males saw the thing the same. Mida had sent no wind to rid her skies of the grayness of clouds, and these clouds would stay above our heads till they had emptied all within them upon us.

“For a journey demanded by the gods,” remarked Telion from beside me, “there seems to be little from them in the way of approval. We are barely able to travel now, yet further snow is a constant threat. Perhaps they merely wish to amuse themselves watching us founder beneath a sea of white.”

The male gazed sourly upon the skies so close above us, one hand holding to his lanthay’s rein, the other hand twisted within the lanthay’s neck fur. Telion continued to yearn for the leather seat left behind upon his kan, and sat his current mount with little more confidence than the females of the village. I smiled at his discomfort for I felt none of it myself, and his satisfaction with his earlier actions dimmed to annoyance.

“There is little call for such smugness,” he growled. “Though you ride that beast as though born to it, should the rest of us founder you, too, will cease to be.”

“This set is not meant to founder,” I replied, too pleased with the male’s annoyance to allow it to fade. “Mida, too, speaks of the journey as necessary, therefore shall it be completed. Once completed, I shall continue in her service for I am not yet done with it.”

Telion turned his head sharply to gaze upon me, and frowned in a way that seemed to have little to do with his previous annoyance.

“Again you speak of your Mida,” said he, his tone displeased. “Does she continue to walk your dreams as she did upon that first instance? When will you learn that Ceralt has taken you from such things, and that they need no longer trouble you?”

Strangely, his displeasure seemed more for Mida than myself, yet his understanding was far from complete.

“That Ceralt has captured me is of no moment to Mida,” said I, attempting to show him the right of it. “It is her will that I travel with this set, and it shall be her will when I am freed from it. There is a thing I must do for her, yet she was not spoken of what the thing might be.”

The male’s eyes turned cold, and he straightened upon his lanthay. “The only will you need concern yourself with is Ceralt’s,” he growled, a low, cutting edge to his voice. “It is by Ceralt’s will that you ride here, and by his will alone shall you remain. Were he to hear you speak of this Mida again, he would see you soundly punished. Can you not comprehend the fact that you are his wench? He has taken you and will not allow a return to your former, savage existence!”

Telion had kept his voice low, to disallow its traveling to those who rode before us, yet the strength of his displeasure came to me clearly. He insisted upon seeing me as no more than that which Ceralt wished me to be, and my anger at such a state of affairs loosened my tongue injudiciously.

“So I am his, eh?” I hissed, nearly spitting the words at him. “For how long am I to be his? Till he is struck down at this journey’s end? And then to whom am I to belong? Pah! The plottings of males disgust me!”

Telion drew back from the blaze of my anger, a stricken look upon his face where once his own anger showed. I turned my eyes from him, studying the backs of those who rode before us in an attempt to calm myself, and his hand and voice came to me unexpectedly.

“Jalav, you were not to know that,” he protested, his hand tightening about my arm. “Ceralt wished you to remain ignorant of the possibility to spare you unnecessary pain. There is ever the chance that he might live.”

“How great a chance?” I demanded, turning again to rake him with the blaze of my eyes. “As he accepts the matter as though it were the will of Mida, how great can be the possibility of his survival? Have males no sense of rightness that they ride to their deaths with joyous acceptance in their hearts? Should death come to a warrior, she will accept it happily for it is her means of attaining Mida’s Blessed realm, yet she will not seek it when it is not required of her!”

“Ceralt does not seek his death!” Telion growled, fingers tightening to an even greater degree. He no longer appeared stricken, and his anger had returned in full measure. “Women have no knowledge of man’s ways, of the manner in which his thoughts turn. Ceralt will not seek to avoid his lot, for should he succeed in doing so, all those about him would lose their lives in his stead. Only by completing this journey and chancing his own ending might he avoid the fate so clearly seen for his people. And you are not to speak to him of this, for it would serve only to increase the burdens already upon him. Are my words clear to you wench?”

I looked upon Telion, he who had seemed so concerned with my anger, he who had once seemed so pleased with a warrior’s prowess. Had I expected a request from him to aid in the defense of Ceralt’s life, my expectations would have come to naught. Wench, he called me, helpless female who was to obey all males, one whose sword was unwelcome among those of males. Ceralt had wrought well among his brothers, degrading me to them, yet his work had not been as successful with himself. Why, if I were no more than a female in his eyes, was his concern so great lest I seek vengeance for his death? Does one fear the vengeance of a city female in the same manner as one fears the vengeance of a warrior and war leader? Ceralt felt no desire to unleash my fury, yet Telion had forgotten the strength of it. In anger, I kicked at the side of Telion’s lanthay, causing the unsuspecting beast to snort and rear, and Telion hastily removed his hand from my arm to grab at the lanthay’s neck fur. In such a manner did I answer the demand he had put to me, and I allowed my dancing lanthay to increase its pace so that we might close the gap which had grown between us and those ahead of us. The breath came white from my lanthay’s nostrils, as white as from mine, and the snow crunched beneath its hooves as we left Telion and his indignant mount in our wake. The male was not thrown as he might have been, and a moment or two later found him again at my side, yet the words were gone from him and no new demands were addressed to me. I made no attempt to look upon him, yet his silence suggested that he had found the understanding previously spoken of.

The new light had not yet reached its highest when we entered a large clearing. The clearing, ringed with tall, bare trees all about, seemed sufficient for twice our number and more, yet it was there the males halted and began seeing to the unburdening of the mounts. The females, freed from the need for further riding, dismounted quickly, handed over the reins of their lanthay, and moved away from the activity of the males. Their assistance was not required in the erecting of the tents, and the males preferred having them where their presence would not be a hindrance. Despite the threatening gray so close above their heads, the females laughed gaily as they took themselves across the clearing, some few attempting to run in the deep, unmarked snow. I watched them from the height of my lanthay’s back, attempting to fathom the meaning of their lightheartedness. Perhaps they had no knowledge of the gravity of the quest we rode upon, the gravity which kept their males from the same gaiety, or perhaps they lacked the sense to appreciate such gravity. I knew not which the answer might be, yet I knew that warriors, in their place, would not have done the same.

“A wench should have the company of other wenches, Ceralt,” came Telion’s voice from behind me. “How is she to learn to be as they if she is ever kept from their midst?”

I turned to see Telion and Ceralt regarding me, they having dismounted from their lanthay and having tied them. Telion stood with arms afold across his chest, an unreadable expression upon his face, yet his eyes held a remembrance of anger and disapproval. Ceralt, beside him, regarded me with brows drawn together, and his head nodded in agreement.

“I fear you have the right of it, brother,” Ceralt pronounced, self-annoyance tinging his tone. “How indeed is she to learn a woman’s ways when her constant companions are men? Men may teach a woman her womanhood, yet womanly ways are taught by women.”

He came close to the side of my lanthay, then, and his hands at my waist took me from my mount and stood me before him. I had not released the lanthay’s rein, and as it jumped from our sides, Ceralt’s hand shot out to halt it, at the same time pulling the rein from my grip.

“I will see to the care of your lanthay,” he informed me, gazing down upon me with a softness to the light of his eyes.

“Take yourself now to the other wenches, and learn what you may from their doings. I should have seen to this much the sooner. ”

I attempted protest, yet such an attempt was futile. Telion, in deep concern over my welfare, urged Ceralt to discount my “shyness” with other females, a shyness which had kept me from joining their ranks sooner. The male knew well enough my thoughts upon city females, yet sought to send me to their midst for purposes of his own. Ceralt saw no covert reasons in Telion’s arguments, therefore was I soon sent upon my way, Ceralt’s demands for obedience ringing in my ears.

The deep snow left very little doubt as to the direction taken by the females, a thing which soured me further. Midanna are taught to leave no track which an enemy might come upon and follow, yet even Midanna would be hard put to see to the thing in the treacherous medium termed snow. Little need was there to aid any tracker with as many prints as the females had left, yet they had proceeded to leave the full story of their passage upon the ground. It came to me to wonder if those males who hunted each new light to fill the set’s needs also left such an abundance of evidence as to their presence. If so, game would soon be scarce indeed.

The females were not far ahead, yet a large bush, made larger through being heavily laden with snow, kept them from my sight till I was nearly upon them. I rounded the bush, concerned with keeping my footing in the slick unevenness left by those who had gone before, then stopped abruptly to stare at the sight which met my eyes.

All of the females of the traveling set had rounded the bush, even she who was known as Famira. This was easily seen as it was she who knelt in the snow beyond the line of other females, her head covered by her arms, her body bent forward to protect her face, all of her shaking to the pelting of snow which rained upon her from the other females. The attackers laughed and shouted as they threw what was between their gloves, then bent to the ground at their feet and grasped a renewed supply of their chosen weapon. Not all threw at once, nor did all bend at once, therefore an almost constant pelting fell upon their sole target. In typical, empty-headed lack of vigilance, none heard my approach as all concerned were too enwrapped in jumping about joyfully and laughing in delight. I halted perhaps three paces from the backs they presented me, feeling the increased dampness in the air from their disturbance of the snow, and folded my arms in deep disgust.

“What do you do here?” I demanded angrily, watching as their laughter ceased and they spun quickly to look upon me, guilt and fear writ large upon their faces. How like all city females they were, pleased to do a thing yet shamed when found doing it. One or two nearly tumbled to the churned up snow, so rapidly did they turn, yet the others quickly repented their fear and startlement, and anger took its place.

“Why do you sneak about behind us?” one of the females demanded in turn, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from her eyes. “We do no more than that which we have longed to do for many kalod! It is more your place to join us than condemn us!”

“I grow weary of being told what place is mine!” I returned, straightening even further before the eyes of these females. “Never have I found the need to hide behind numbers when facing a single opponent! Should you wish to see to revenging some past injury done you, face your enemy with dignity and with like meeting like. For many to fall upon one demeans your motives as well as your actions.”

The females cared little for my words, and muttered angrily among themselves as I looked upon them. Some few appeared to be considering the merits in pelting me with snow as they had done with Famira, yet I, with legs spread wide and arms afold, was no easy victim for their wrath. Should they be foolish enough to attempt the deed, they would soon discover the difference between a wench and a warrior.

The bite of the cold was sharp upon all of us, and the females before me had had the joy taken out of their doings. She who had spoken tossed her head as though discounting my words, then all began to return as they had come, filing past me with baleful looks for me and venomous ones for the female Famira. She called Famira rose slowly to her feet, her gloved hands brushing at the snow which covered her, her eyes upon the backs of her departing attackers. When all of the females had slowly rounded the bush and vanished from sight, Famira turned her eyes to me.

“And what of you?” she called, her voice edged with bitterness. “Do you come now to avenge previous wrongs? Your weakness meant naught to me when we first faced one another. Come and take what you feel is due you and have done with it!”

She stood and faced me, trembling slightly with anger, perhaps even with disgust at the actions of those about her. She had little fear of that which I might do to her, seemingly looked upon it as merely another burden which must be borne, another indignity to be suffered before it might be forgotten. I returned the look she gave me with something of a smile, knowing a loss that she might no longer be considered an enemy. Famira the village female would have been an excellent enemy.

I turned from the lone female without speaking and reentered the area of churned up snow which had been produced by the other females in their return to the camp. Rounding the bush showed that they had nearly reached the now erected tents, therefore did I give attention to my footing till I had done the same. Ceralt and Telion saw to the unburdening and tying of the lanthay, a thing which was nearly done, and as I approached, the males bent curious gazes upon me.

“Your time among the other wenches was not of considerable duration,” said Ceralt as I neared him, his hand astroke upon the lanthay he tended. “There could not have been much gained in such a brief interlude.”

“Indeed,” agreed Telion from where he stood among packs, perhaps three paces away. “She was to have learned from the other wenches, not merely nodded to them in passing. She will require further time among them to learn.”

Telion’s eyes were upon me as he spoke, his face as clear of expression as his gaze was not. He continued to seek difficulty for me, perhaps in revenge for that which I had done earlier, yet his methods were unpalatable. Had he wished to face me with weapons, he should have done so.

“And yet I have learned a thing,” said I to Telion before Ceralt might speak. “For one who observes, there is ever a new thing to be learned.”

“This I do not believe,” scoffed Telion with a look of derision. “There is naught which might have been learned.”

“Perhaps we should ask what this thing might be,” said Ceralt as I stiffened with insult at Telion’s words. To say that a warrior spoke other than the truth was to say that a challenge has been offered.

“It can be naught save the imagination of a female,” said Telion, folding his arms. “Yet am I willing to be shown.”

Ceralt seemed puzzled by Telion, yet his light-eyed-gaze came to me with a smile. “You may show us that which you have learned, satya,” said he, attempting to lighten my anger. He saw full well how I stood in the snow, a pace from him, my body filled with the desire to wipe insult from me. Telion stood as he had, arms afold upon his chest, doubt writ large upon his face, and I could not have refrained from acting had the safety of my very soul been in question. Rapidly, I bent to the snow at my feet and grasped two handfuls of the stuff, patted them together in the shape of a sphere as I had seen the village females do, then hurled the sphere toward Telion’s head. The village females had thrown as all village females do, poorly and with little skill, yet I, as a warrior and war leader, had great skill in the throwing of rocks; which is no more than a child’s game. Telion attempted to evade the throw by moving to his left; yet I had anticipated such a movement and had allowed for it. The sphere of snow struck full in the male’s face as he cried out in anger and dismay, his cry mingled with that of Ceralt, who jumped quickly to my side to prevent the grasping of further snow. I had fully expected Ceralt to be filled with great anger, perhaps so great as to beat me, yet the male laughed in full amusement as he kept me from further snow, his arms about me to hold me still. Telion brushed the snow from him with loud curses as Ceralt and I watched, and when his eyes were once again able to see, he sent to me a look so black that Ceralt laughed the harder to see it.

“You see she spoke the truth, brother,” he called to Telion, amusement rolling about his words. “There seems to be no need to punish her for lying.”

“Ceralt, you must allow me to give her a hiding for this,” Telion growled, his flesh reddened where the sphere of snow had touched. He stood to his full height, indignation all about him, traces of snow clinging here and there to his furs and hair. Telion had long been eager to use his leather upon me, and now, at last, his wish was to be fulfilled. I stood in Ceralt’s grasp and awaited his utterance of approval, knowing how well he thought of the punishment, yet his decision, when voiced, brought greater surprise to me than to the other male.

“I shall not allow it, Telion,” said he, his voice soft as he looked upon the male called warrior. “Her punishment is mine to mete out, and I do not feel that she has earned punishment. Was she not ordered to show that which she had learned?”

“Certainly,” protested Telion, “yet—” His words broke off in great frustration, as though he were unable to support the stand he had taken, and I looked up at the male who held me so close to him. His eyes came down to meet mine, a familiar softness therein, and the cold of the fey seemed to recede behind the warmth his gaze sent. Why had he not allowed Telion his will? I wondered, but could not bring the words forth to question him. Did he merely wish to do the thing himself? This did not seem to be the case, yet I knew not what to make of his strange decision.

“In future I shall first ask for a description from you,” said Ceralt, again amused. “Your eye and arm are far too good for the safety of those around you, therefore are you forbidden to throw snow in such a manner again. Do you understand?”

I nodded mutely, understanding his words rather than what lay behind them, and his smile increased.

“Good,” said he, his arms briefly tightening about me. “Now take yourself into the tent and prepare our mid-fey meal. Cold increases a man’s appetite, and I look forward to something other than our usual cold mid-fey meal.”

He urged me from him then and toward the tent, he himself returning to the lanthay he had been seeing to. I walked from him slowly, barely seeing Telion as I passed him, barely aware of the curious look the male warrior sent to me. Why had Ceralt not allowed Telion to beat me? Why had he not beaten me himself? The doings of males are strange to a warrior’s thinking, yet Ceralt continued to do that which was stranger than any of the others. Why did he look upon me as he did—and how would he look upon me when Mida had freed me from his capture?

Entering the tent was something of a distraction from the turmoil of my thoughts. Though I had expected to see Lialt within, perhaps engaged in the activity termed “reading,” the tent held naught save that which it always held, a heat rising from the coals which had been set aglow. I removed my leg coverings and body furs beside the tent entrance, yet the heat to be found within the tent made my leather coverings unnecessary as well. I hesitated as I looked about the tent, yet there was no reason to retain coverings which had become unnecessary. It was possible that the males would dislike my having divested myself of garments without having been ordered to do so, yet the matter seemed of small consequence. There was little they might do which had not already been done, and who knew how much longer I would be burdened with their presence? Perhaps Mida would act that very fey to free me, and I need then no longer concern myself with them. Having made the decision, I quickly removed all save the breech about my middle, then saw to warming the meat which had already been previously cooked.

The three males entered a short time later, each eager to partake of their sustenance. Lialt chuckled as Ceralt told him of Telion’s mishap with a sphere of snow, and Telion, though still annoyed at the incident, was also coaxed into a chuckle. The males looked upon me as I stood beside the metal holder of glowing coals, a metal rod in my hand, yet none spoke of my lack of covering. Perhaps the sight of Jalav pleased them, and they thought themselves more fully served having her so. Each showed familiar heat when looking upon me, yet this, too, was unmentioned.

With the males seated and served their meat, Ceralt, predictably, knelt me beside him. I was served from his board as always, and with all of the meat consumed, was also taken in his arms. It was then that I was reminded of that which I had been bidden to say to him, words not easily spoken by a warrior. His arms held me to the warmth of his bare chest, his eyes looked deeply into mine, and the weakness which was the curse of his nearness settled again upon me, to thin my voice to a whisper and put tremors within my body. I forced the required words from my throat, tripping upon them, then raised my lips to my captor, trembling as I awaited the touch of his own lips. How helpless a warrior feels so, held in the arms of a male, awaiting the touch of his lips which will further drain her strength. Ceralt looked upon me as he held me so, a fierceness in the light eyes of him, a greater strength than ever in his arms.

“You are mine and shall be so forever,” he whispered as though pronouncing a blood oath. “Woman, do not forget the words I speak to you.”

And then his lips took mine, crushing them with the strength of his desire, making my head swim. I clung to the arms of him, knowing there was naught I might do to halt his desire, knowing too that there was naught I wished to do. My body burned where his hands touched my flesh, and I writhed in his lap, consumed by the need he had brought upon me. So quickly and easily was my enslaved body made his, captured more surely than by the points of spears, held more tightly than by the weight of chains. I moaned as I twisted about against him, feeling the strength of his awakened manhood upon my body, fearing that he would laugh and push me from him as he had done other times. My fears were unfounded, however, for Ceralt’s need raged as high as mine. The breech was torn away from my body, and then I was thrust to the lanthay fur and entered so strongly that a gasp was forced from me. Ceralt’s body drove at mine, causing me to cry out even as I rose to him; and it was many reckid before the storm passed from him. At last I lay in his arms, still in his possession, knowing that had I not been told of Mida’s wishes, I would indeed have considered myself his. The smell of him was strong upon me, marking me his as clearly as his presence within me, and had it not been contrary to the way of Midanna, I would have wept for the loss which would be mine. Ceralt would be taken from me, likely by Mida’s will, and should that be so, there was naught I might do for it.

“She has truly become much of a woman, brother,” came Lialt’s voice from above me. I raised my eyes to see that he studied me openly with a grin, Telion also agrin by his side. “I look forward to my use of her this darkness,” said he.

“I, too, feel so,” agreed Telion, resting his arm upon Lialt’s shoulder, silent laughter in his eyes. “Such use is greatly preferable to the hiding I had wished to give her.”

The two males stood gazing down upon me, and Ceralt’s eyes joining theirs in appraisal. “Is this what you wish, wench?” asked Ceralt most softly, his right hand gently rubbing at my breast, his light eyes soberly upon me. “Should it be contrary to your desire, I must hear words from you.”

The lanthay fur beneath my back was not the best of resting places, for as I writhed somewhat to the stroke of Ceralt’s hand and the throb of his strengthening presence, the fur seemed to whisper weakness to me, greater weakness than I had yet felt. Ask to be kept as his alone, whispered the fur, stroking my bottom as my hips began to move. Beg him to keep you from the others, it urged, tangling gently with my hair where it lay crushed beneath me. Ceralt slid slowly about within me, forcing a moan from my lips, his gaze becoming more demanding, yet I could not speak such words. Lialt and Telion watched with amusement as Ceralt extracted slave-due from the once mighty Jalav, and to add to the humiliation of such a state was beyond me.

“I cannot,” I whispered to Ceralt, agonized to my soul. I knew he would leave me with need full upon me, yet I could do no other than as I did. I awaited his withdrawal, awaited the aching emptiness, yet it was not to be. A sadness touched the broad, strong face of him, and then his lips came briefly to mine.

“Patience will see it done,” he murmured, more to himself than to any other. “The fey will come, and upon that fey I will be there.”

Then he held me more tightly in his arms and saw to the need of both of us. It must surely be the doing of Mida that thought is impossible at such a time, for had it not been so, I would have spent the pleasure in demands for understanding. When he left me at last and stood to see to his leathers, I lay upon the lanthay fur, still held by the memory of his use. So strong was this Ceralt, so filled with satisfaction for a warrior. Ah, Mida. Do you take him so that he might be brought to your Blessed Realm for your own use? If so, your war leader bids caution. This male is one who might find the means to enslave a goddess.

“You have rendered her useless, Ceralt,” came Lialt’s voice, more mockery than annoyance therein. “I had hoped to give her a reading lesson, and now it must wait till her mind returns to govern her flesh.”

Lialt’s words and the laughter of the other males came to me where I lay in the fur, yet I felt no shame at the way I stretched and wiggled about. Ceralt was a male like no other, and the pleasure he gave belonged to a warrior. I rubbed my face and body in the lanthay fur and smiled my satisfaction, and each of the males laughed even further.

“She seems to find little disappointment in the loss of a lesson,” chuckled Ceralt, replacing his leather body covering. “It would indeed be futile to attempt teaching her now, yet the matter may be seen to later. Hannil and the others may not arrive till darkness has fallen.”

“We are as prepared as possible,” said Lialt, the laughter having left him. “Should the skies refrain from burying us in snow, we shall be able to begin the balance of the journey with the new light.”

“There are a number of things we must discuss before Hannil’s arrival,” said Ceralt, going toward his body furs at the tent’s entrance. “Walk with me, brothers, and give me your thoughts to add to mine.”

The males each donned body furs and left the tent, thinking no more of the female who lay naked in the fur, she who had been made to writhe to a male. There were weightier matters to concern males than a female who had been used and left, and I sat up bitterly, no longer in the grasp of pleasure. How was such dismissal accepted by village females? Had they no pride, no sense of self, that they lived no farther in the world than the shadow of their males? Was I, war leader of the Hosta, foremost of all the clans of Midanna, to accept such dismissal in a similar way? A growl came to my throat and I rose to my feet to find and replace the breech Ceralt had torn from me. To live with no purpose in life was to live not at all, yet I had purpose aplenty before me. Mida had spoken, and I would ride in the cause she wished to see me tend to, and then would males be dismissed from my thoughts. I put my hand to my hair and rubbed at the scalp, easing the place where Ceralt’s grip upon my hair had been so tight, then turned to the clearing away of the boards which had been fed from. My thoughts turned to the males who had served me, and the grimness dropped slowly from mind.

The boards had been cleaned and returned to their places when there was movement at the tent entrance. I had been considering dressing and going forth into the cold once more, to walk about in the snow and lose myself to my thoughts, when the tent flap moved aside and she called Famira entered. I knew not why she should be there, yet the tent was not mine to defend against intrusion. The village female stood no more than a step within, her face flushed from the cold of the fey, her eyes startled as she took in my form, clad in no more than leather breech. I cared little for her or her startlement, yet when I failed to address her, she took it upon herself to begin.

“I would enter and speak with you,” she said, the words coming slowly and with difficulty. Her hand brushed the hood from her head, and she looked upon me squarely, her gaze not avoiding mine.

“You have entered,” I returned, standing straight and folding my arms beneath my life sign. “You are also speaking.”

“Why must you make this so difficult?” she demanded, taking one short step forward. “I came to ask why you have refrained from doing as the others do. Why have you not taken vengeance for what was done to you? Do you mean to await your opportunity, or do you fear me?”

I could not help but smile at the thought of a war leader of Mida fearing a village slave-woman, and then the smile turned to laughter as Famira frowned. The female knew the look of herself, and even in her fur leg wrappings she stood to less of a height than Jalav. My strength was greater than hers, my skill was greater than hers, and I laughed at the audacity of the thought she had voiced. Had she been a warrior, the matter might have been near to a challenge and therefore naught to laugh at, yet she was not a warrior. I laughed as one laughs at a child, and Famira felt the barb and flushed deeply.

“So you do not fear me!” she snapped, pulling open the fur body covering upon her. “I had not realized how much like the men you are, looking down upon all who are not one of you! Yet you have not replied to my question. Why have you not sought me out to take vengeance?”

“One seeks vengeance from enemies who are as they were when the insult was first given,” said I, frowning at the words she had spoken. I, likened to the males? How might my actions be like those of the males?

“And I am no longer as I was,” said Famira, the bitterness a great part of her. She removed the furs from her body, sat to remove her leg coverings, then stood again in naught save her leathers. Her eyes were filled with pain as she looked about herself, and a short, mirthless laugh came forth from her.

“Ceralt’s tent and Ceralt’s belongings,” said she, walking forward to place her hand upon a leather pack. “I would know Ceralt’s things anywhere.” Her eyes left the pack and came to me, and an odd smile turned the corners of her lips. “Would you have the truth?” she asked, her manner strange in its friendliness. “Never have I had the wish to be drawn from the circle by Ceralt, yet I thought that to be Ceralt’s woman would secure the place I had made for myself among the others of the village. Ceralt is a beast, Jalav, and I do not envy you your place with him, for I know now that he would not have allowed me a place above others. He would have used me even more brutally and casually than Cimilan does, and I would have had no more than I have now to show for it. All that I had is lost to me, and was destined to be lost from the first.”

Her voice emptied of the unnatural lightness it had had as she turned her back and bent her head, grief filling her at the sight of her dreams crumbled to ruins about her feet. Her shoulders shook as she struggled to keep from falling to tears, and I recalled the similar plight of a would-be warrior of mine, one who had been taken bound in leather to the dwellings of males, there to be left to be made a slave-woman of males. The young warrior had fought the leather and the hands of males upon her, and then had turned desperate eyes to me where I sat upon my gando.

“War leader, do not abandon me here!” she had cried, a great fear filling her. “I do not wish to lose my place among you!”

“You have no place among the Hosta,” I had told her, signaling my warriors to prepare to depart. “You left the cleaning and sharpening of your sword to those who were younger than you; you walked the woods in pleasure and ate berries while others hunted; you lagged behind in battle till the enemy was vanquished, then strode forth to bloody your sword in the body of one already slain. You are not a warrior but a hanger-on, a slave-female fit for naught save the bidding of males. Rejoice that we leave you with males rather than send you to face the wrath of Mida.”

“Oh, Mida, why have you taken your shield from me?” she had cried as we turned and left her to be seen to by the males of the village. She had not understood, as Famira failed to understand, yet perhaps Famira might be made to understand.

“There was naught ever in your possession to be lost to you,” I said to the village female before me, causing her head to come up. “How is one to mourn the loss of a thing one has never possessed?”

“How can you speak so?” she demanded, whirling angrily to face me, her small hands closed to fists. “All in the village stepped back from my path when I walked among them! All looked upon me and knew me as their better! None dared stand to face me, and no single rider offered me the insult of his smile! Is this your concept of naught to be lost?”

“I know only that which I have heard,” I shrugged, regarding her anger coolly. “The other females kept from your path out of fear of he whom Ceralt named Uncle, a male, I gather, of some note in the village. The males, those termed riders, kept their smiles from you in the belief that Ceralt wished to claim you as his own. In each instance, fear of another gave a false belief to you, a belief that it was you who generated their subservience. Such a state is not a true position of leadership, as you have already learned to your sorrow. Do you wish to deny the contention?”

Her lips parted angrily, as though to retort, yet suddenly the anger went from her and she again bowed her head. “To deny the truth would be foolish,” she said, a deep sigh taking her. “You, who stand beneath the leather of Ceralt, command the awe and fear of the other women simply by being as you are. They see, as I do, a power and presence within you, having naught to do with the actions of others. I have even heard a rider say that he would not care to face you with sword in hand.” Her head lifted and her eyes found mine, and a reluctant truth entered her tone. “I greatly feared that you would come to repay the pain I gave you, yet I found myself unable to sit about and await its coming. Sooner would I have had the pain than the fear of its arrival. ”

Again I smiled at her words, yet this time in approval. Only a fool and coward chooses to run from that which she has earned by her own hand, and whatever else she might be, Famira seemed no coward.

“I had thought you ill when Ceralt first brought you to the village,” said Famira, watching as I sat myself cross-legged upon the lanthay fur. After a brief hesitation, she seated herself as I had, and when no words of rebuke came from me for her liberty, her face and eyes grew calmer. “These marks that I see upon your body,” she said, “was it that which caused your infirmity?”

“Indeed.” I nodded, touching the track of a Silla spear. “I have been allowed my life so that I may do the will of Mida, yet should she be pleased with my efforts, I may also be allowed the pleasure of once more facing she who caused these wounds to be given me. Then we shall see whose lifeblood flows to the ground beneath our feet.”

I had spoken casually, merely voicing an oft-repeated prayer to Mida, yet Famira shivered and wrapped her arms about herself.

“Had I known what I know now,” she breathed, eyes wide, “never would I have approached you, not to speak of knocking you down. Tell me what befell you, Jalav, and tell me of this other who caused such terrible wounds.”

She seemed full eager to hear the tale, yet I wondered if she asked because she wished to know, or if it were merely loneliness for the company of another which prompted her curiosity. I had rarely had the time to speak with any save those warriors who seconded me and Rilas, Keeper of the Clans, yet in the place of males, there was little to do other than spend one’s time in idle chatter. Inwardly I shrugged, knowing I was not kept from more important matters, and began the tale which Famira had requested. She was not one such as Tarla, however, and the end of the tale brought strong anger to the female before me.

“Such cowardly actions, Jalav!” she fumed, nearly taken completely by indignation. “That they would do such a thing to a lone woman is despicable!”

“They are Silla.” I smiled, amused at her indignation. “They knew full well that it was a war leader they faced, not a slave-woman who might be looked down upon. Had I had the strength to reach the sword, the Silla’s blood would have joined mine upon the ground. It is the manner in which one gives an enemy the chance to die as a warrior should.”

“It is a horrible thing,” said Famira, “and yet it seems kinder than the ways of the men of my village. Your Silla offer the means to death with dignity, yet the men of the village offer no such easy escape. A woman among them must suffer and continue to live, to serve them and their vile lusts!”

The female’s eyes burned bright, hatred clear in the lines of her face, and I wondered at the thoughts she voiced. Had she been used so harshly and constantly that she now loathed the touch of a male? Such things were not unknown, and I thought of he named Cimilan, the male who had claimed her. His first use of Famira had been spoken of by the females in the village, yet none had mentioned what other things he had done. It was my intention to broach the subject, for I had not forgotten my time with the male Nolthis, yet before I might speak of it, Ceralt entered the tent, followed by this very same Cimilan. I rose to my feet at their appearance, yet Famira nearly flew erect, rage coloring her features.

“Am I to be followed wherever I go?” she demanded, her dark eyes blazing upon a frowning Cimilan. “Why will you not leave me be? Can you not see how unwelcome your presence is?”

“Famira, do not speak so,” said this Cimilan, putting a hand out toward her. His face wore a look of pained embarrassment, yet the gesture was one of placation.

“I shall speak as I will!” snapped Famira, rounding Cimilan’s outstretched hand to take her fur leg coverings and don them. She donned her body covering as well and then left the tent, sparing the male no whit of a glance. Cimilan’s hand dropped wearily to his side, his head hung in misery, and Ceralt could restrain himself no longer.

“By the putrid privates of Sigurr the Dark, what has come over you’?” he demanded, the oath fairly flickering in his eyes. His hand went to Cimilan’s shoulder, and the second male was made to turn to face him. “What is it that ails you that you would allow your wench to speak to you so?”

The male Cimilan faced his leader in embarrassment, then lowered his eyes and shook his head. “I am able to do naught with her,” said he, opening and removing his body fur. “She is beyond what skill I possess, and it is for this reason that I came to speak with you. Shall I free her to be chosen by another, Ceralt? Her hatred of me is clear, and I am unable to placate it.”

“Placate it?” Ceralt echoed with a frown, he, too, removing his furs. “I do not recognize the sound of you, Cimilan. Was it not you who said the wench needed little more than a man’s hand applied to her arrogance to bring the sweetness flowing from her? How could such sentiments have changed to placation?”

Cimilan shook his head in confusion, then stepped past Ceralt to enter further into the tent. His eyes fell upon me where I stood, and he halted to inspect me closely, a faint grin eventually finding him.

“She is indeed magnificent, Ceralt,” he said, folding his arms as he gazed upon me. “I have heard others say that the mere sight of her is enough to stir a man, and this is surely so. Where do you find the ability to keep your hands from her?”

“I have no need to keep my hands from her,” returned Ceralt, coming to stand at Cimilan’s side. “The wench is mine and I use her as I please. You continue to cause me worry, Cimilan. Why would a man find it necessary to keep himself from his woman? Seat yourself and tell me of what has so far occurred between you and Famira.”

Again Cimilan hesitated, yet Ceralt had turned from him to fetch a skin of near-renth and return with it. I seated myself in the lanthay fur and stretched out upon my left side, yet the male Cimilan seemed no longer aware of me. He accepted the skin Ceralt held out to him, drank deeply from it, then sat himself cross-legged upon the fur. When Ceralt was also seated, he took his eyes from his leader and began the unburdening of his soul.

“I had never thought of myself as unthinkingly cruel,” said he, his voice uneven, “yet I have caused Famira pain and terror which I had not meant to be hers. It occurred upon the occasion of my carrying her to her father’s halyar, the very darkness I drew her from the circle. Ceralt, I was a fool, for I drank from the second skin knowing that she had yet to be opened. I have had women aplenty and have even opened a few, yet never have I seen such screaming and such blood. The drug blinded me to all save the need within me, and it took the coming of the new light to show me what I had done.”

The male sat with head down, fist buried in the fur before him, voice bitter with shameful memory. Ceralt looked upon him as he listened, no sign of condemnation appearing in accusation. A brief silence filled the tent, as though Cimilan looked again upon the scenes of which he spoke, and then his resolute words continued.

“She lay in exhausted sleep,” said he, “covered with the blood which my use had brought to her. I recalled the pain she had had, the terror she had known, saw how small and helpless she appeared in the thinness of the new light. I knelt above her for many reckid, reviling myself and my thoughtlessness, knowing how deep my love for her was, cursing the continued absence of her father, who should have been present to condemn me. She and I were alone in the halyar, and then she stirred, moaning in pain and beginning to weep. I quickly gathered her up, wrapped in furs, and carried her to the bathing halyar, where I washed the blood from her and smoothed in soothing salves. She thereafter spoke no word to me for more than a fey, at first jumping to obey each thing I said to her, later merely cringing back from even the touch of my hand. The first darkness of our first fey together, she hid herself in a corner of my halyar and screamed when I looked upon her, and I found that I could not force myself upon her. Since that time I have not been able to touch her.”

Cimilan’s voice had fallen to a whisper, yet even so his disturbance had come through clearly. It puzzled me to reconcile his actions with Famira’s words and feelings, yet Ceralt was not puzzled. He continued to look upon the male before him, he who could not meet his leader’s eyes, and then Ceralt’s hand went to Cimilan’s shoulder, squeezing gently in reassurance.

“Cimilan, my friend, you are not a child,” said Ceralt, gentleness mixed with mild reproof. “A youth would be fit meat for such a problem; I had not expected to see it binding a man. However,” and his voice gained briskness as his hand clapped Cimilan’s shoulder, “as the problem is yours, we must solve it for you.”

Cimilan’s head raised to Ceralt with a frown, and Ceralt grinned a grin I had oft times seen before. “Your primary difficulty,” said Ceralt, “is that you are not familiar with my cousin and her ways. Have I ever told you of the time she and I were in the woods, and she took a branch and crowned me with it?” Cimilan shook his head, and Ceralt laughed to see the beginnings of outrage upon the other male’s face.

“It is true, I assure you,” grinned Ceralt. “She was perhaps eight kalod in age, and I thirteen, and I had dismissed her presence behind me till I felt the branch upon my skull, swung with a good deal of energy. She had been insulted by my refusal to take her hunting, and had chosen attack as the means by which to show her displeasure.”

“I do not understand,” Cimilan protested, his eyes upon Ceralt. “What has that to do with—”

“Patience,” counseled Ceralt, holding a hand up before the other. “The point of the story is yet to come. When the ringing caused by the blow cleared from my head, I rose to my feet, cut a switch from the nearest tree, and went seeking my beloved cousin. She had left me lying upon the ground, and when I caught her, too far from the village for screams to be heard, she knew she faced punishment she would not be saved from. Perhaps that was the first time she formulated her plans, yet it was surely not the last time she applied them. She received all of two blows from me, accepted in total silence, and then she screamed and twisted about as though her body were the victim of a bone-destroying rack. I was a child then, and thought surely I had caused her some great damage. I grew afraid and ceased the switching at once. I attempted to comfort her. I offered her sweets. I carried her to her father’s halyar and placed her gently upon her furs. Mind you, she had nearly opened my skull with a branch, and I had given her all of two blows with a switch upon the leather of her skirt, and yet it was I who begged forgiveness and felt bottomless guilt. Does this injustice seem somehow familiar to you?”

“It cannot be the same!” Cimilan insisted, greatly disturbed. “The blood which came from her was unbelievable—though she did begin to accept my touch in silence.”

“Aha!” pounced Ceralt, a gleam in his eye as he leaned forward toward Cimilan. “She fully intended to snare you, and had not counted upon your drinking from the second skin. Cimilan my friend, Lialt will tell you that there are some few wenches who produce rivers of blood when first broached—no matter how they are broached nor by whom. I feel certain that Famira herself felt frightened at its presence, not to speak of the pain she was given, yet she undoubtedly meant to entrap you as she has so obviously done. It has ever been her plan to rule a rider, and now her plans have come to be.”

Cimilan, though struck by Ceralt’s words, nevertheless leaned down upon an elbow, to consider them. He took the skin Ceralt passed to him and drank from it distractedly, then raised his eyes to meet the gaze of Ceralt.

“The matter still cannot be as you describe it,” said he, shaking his head. “If it were true that all which transpired was by Famira’s devising, then she would be pleased with her lot in life. She would undoubtedly pretend great fear of me to feed my guilt, not show how deeply she despises me. You saw her. You heard.”

“Indeed,” nodded Ceralt, “yet perhaps we each saw and heard a separate thing. You saw and heard the woman you love through layers of guilt and self-condemnation. I saw the woman who is my cousin, she with whom I grew from childhood, she who has apparently found great disappointment in the man who chose her. Consider my cousin, Cimilan, and understand that she will never feel respect for a man who is in her control. It is said, and truly, that a strong woman requires a stronger man. She expected—and perhaps hoped—to find that she would no longer be allowed her manipulations, and then you fell to them at once, allowing her to rule you. Can you imagine her disappointment, when she no longer bothers to hide her disgust? Is she to remain without a rider forever?”

“No,” growled Cimilan, a hardness appearing in the dark of his eyes. “No!” he shouted then, striking the palm of his hand with a fist the size of Ceralt’s. “So she planned to ensnare me, did she? She is pleased to practice her wiles, then feels herself unjustly treated when a man falls prey to them?” He rose to his feet and stood wrapped in rage, one square fist clenched before him, his dark eyes focused upon that which was not to be seen by others. “I must teach her that men are not to be manipulated,” he muttered, then lowered his gaze to Ceralt. “My woman and I shall return here shortly. Though you be male kin to her, I feel you will not interfere with what is to be done to her.”

He then turned and strode from the tent, failing even to pause to replace his body furs. Ceralt reclined in the fur with a soft laugh, stretching his large, hard body out in lack of concern. I gazed upon him briefly in silence, then sat myself straighter in the furs.

“The male has named you kin to her called Famira,” I said, bringing his eyes to me. “Are you not bound to stand in defense of kin, as are the Midanna?”

“Indeed,” nodded Ceralt, still amused. “Yet first one must consider the true meaning of defense. Should I keep Cimilan from punishing Famira as he intends, my cousin may never know the happiness which is the right of every woman. Famira desires strength in a man, the sort of strength which will force her to bow to his desires. She believes she desires pliability, yet this is not so. Patently, if it were true that she wished to rule a rider, she would now be pleased rather than miserable as she is. To defend my cousin, then, requires that I refuse to aid her against the man to whom she belongs.”

“This is not clear.” I frowned, regarding his strange composure with less than amusement. “Should the kin of a Midanna warrior stand in jeopardy from others, that warrior will stand beside her kin, even though she may share her fate. Apparently the matter is seen differently when one’s kin is male.”

Ceralt must surely have seen the disapproval I felt, however his anger appeared only briefly, before fading to naught. He regarded me as I had regarded him, in silence, then his hand rose from the lanthay fur to gesture to me.

“Come sit here beside me, satya,” he said, his voice soft with patience. “That I am male and Famira female has no bearing upon my behavior. I would have you understand this.”

I had little desire to sit beside Ceralt—and yet my body rose quickly from the fur to close the gap between us. He had used me no more than a short while earlier and then had dismissed me from his thoughts, yet I sank to the fur before him feeling naught of my earlier anger. I, in no more than a breech, sat before the male who had captured me, feeling his eyes touch me with pleasure feeling much of the pleasure myself, knowing that I pleased him. His hand reached out to touch my right calf, and the warmth of his fingers spread to encompass my entire body. I sat as though I were going to recline to the left, my legs bent before me to the right, my left hand flat upon the lanthay fur, and I clasped my thighs tightly together so that I might not shame myself before him.

“Among my people,” said Ceralt with a smile, “a man is required to defend his kinswomen before all others save his own woman. This is a matter of honor for men, and gladly do we discharge the obligation. Here, however, it is my belief that Famira will be better served if my aid is withheld from her. We shall see the thing through, and the results will prove me correct or in error. ”

He paused to stroke his hand upward to my thigh, round my knee and just above it, and my left hand closed to hold the lanthay fur in a grip which nearly tore it loose. I thought perhaps he toyed with me, yet his eyes were thoughtfully upon my face.

“Tell me,” he said. “For what reason was my cousin Famira within this tent? Had she come to bedevil you with ridicule?”

“In truth, I know not,” I murmured, attempting a softer voice in the hope that its unevenness would not be noticed. “She professed to have come asking after my intentions of revenge for her treatment of me, yet I feel that loneliness brought her. She is not well liked among the others.”

“I have long been aware of that,” he sighed, removing his hand from my leg to hang the forearm upon his knee. “She feels the difference between herself and the others, and as she stands apart from them in her own mind, so do they treat her in reality. The others are women of men, held, cherished, and made to be obedient. Famira is not.”

Ceralt’s mind left the tent to wander alone, enabling me to release my grip upon the lanthay fur. Once I had thought upon holding Ceralt in my tent among the Hosta, yet I no longer considered the matter feasible. The lanthay fur against my left leg reminded me of his presence; the sight of his broad, hard body reminded me of his presence; the scent of his leathers reminded me of his presence. How was a war leader to lead her clan when all things about her brought thoughts of naught save a male? I longed to reach my hand out to touch him, to be taken in his arms and held against him, yet I kept my hand back and did not stir. Ceralt wished a village female, one who would see to his belongings, one who would not be so bold as to show her desire for him. Jalav was not such a one, and Ceralt was not hers.

Few, indeed, were the moments which passed before the sounds of struggle and displeasure heralded the return of Cimilan with Famira. The male appeared at the tent flap, the female upon his shoulder, shouts of outrage and revilement flying about his head. Cimilan strode three steps within before setting Famira upon her feet, yet his having released her meant naught of consequence. He stood, wide-shouldered and hard-eyed, between Famira and the tent flap, a thing the female saw at once. I had twisted about to observe their entrance, leaning low and to the left, and Ceralt promptly pushed me flat to the lanthay fur upon my belly, his hand in my back holding me there.

“For what reason have you forced me to return here?” Famira demanded of Cimilan, her fists clenched as she stared up to the face of the male. “Have you not already done more than enough to me?”

Cimilan received Famira’s words with no expression, yet his dark eyes seemed to reflect more of the light from the flames-within-boxes. He stood in no more than his leathers, apparently not having felt the cold, and his eyes swept the body furs Famira stood wrapped in.

“I have brought you here so that you may offer apology to the High Rider,” said Cimilan, folding his arms across his chest. “Your conduct before him earlier was inexcusable, and I will not allow the incident to go unnoticed. And have you never learned the proper actions of a woman? What do you do there, standing in a man’s dwelling with boots upon your feet? Remove them at once, and your furs as well!”

The snap in Cimilan’s voice gave Famira pause, yet she seemed to come quickly to a decision. She opened and removed her fur body covering, bent to remove her leg furs, then stood straight to face the male once more.

“As it was you who forcibly carried me here,” said she in a sharpened tone, “what else was I to expect save abuse for my lacks? Have it as you will, Cimilan. The fault was mine.”

A faint grin appeared upon the male’s face, and his head nodded in agreement. “I am pleased to see you have the right of it,” said he, bringing a brief look of surprise to Famira. “You may now prepare your apology.”

The female grew furious at the words addressed to her, yet she did no more than clench her fists and glare upon the male. Then she tossed her head in angry dismissal and began to turn to Ceralt, yet Cimilan had not yet completed his instructions.

“Hold,” said he, halting her turn. “I see little in your bearing of the proper humbleness an apology calls for. I think it best that you remove the leather of men before attempting a wench’s apology. ”

“How dare you suggest such a thing?” Famira gasped, outraged beyond limit. “Do you think that I, being who I am, will do such a thing? Never!”

The female stood stiffened in fury, her eyes ablaze, her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. She faced the male who dared to speak to her so, and Ceralt chuckled softly behind me.

“You will indeed do such a thing,” Cimilan returned, holding her eyes as he looked down upon her. “You are a woman who has been commanded by the man who has chosen her. Do not think you will not obey.”

Famira seemed truly taken aback by the soft menace in Cimilan’s voice, and also seemed at a loss as to what might be said. Her eyes moved briefly to Ceralt and me and then grudgingly returned to the male.

“Cimilan, I cannot do such a thing before others,” she whispered, reluctance and desperation amingle in her tone and manner. “I will return with you to our tent immediately, and there you may do as you wish.”

She then bent to retrieve her body fur, yet Cimilan’s booted foot rested upon the garment, disallowing its retrieval. Her head turned to look up toward him again, and true fear showed a shadow of itself in her eyes.

“Cimilan, please!” she begged, voice aquiver with emotion. “There are strangers present! I cannot remove my garments! Allow me to return to our tent with you!”

The male’s head shook in negation, no amusement to be seen in his eyes. His bearing was calm, his mind firm, and there was little to be seen of the male who had earlier condemned himself. Famira, too, saw these things, and turned from him to stand erect before Ceralt.

“Cousin, I ask your aid,” said she, choking upon words which were loathsome to her. “I, your kin, am in need of assistance. ”

Ceralt regarded her from where he reclined beside me in the lanthay fur. “Kinswoman, I hear your plea for assistance,” said he, his tone mild yet grave. “Do you wish me to give aid in your disrobing?”

“Ceralt, do not speak so!” Famira cried, eyes wide in shock. “Take amusement from my predicament if you must, yet stand before me as you are honor-bound to do!”

“Matters of honor are those between men,” Ceralt informed her, his tone having grown cold. “I will not be schooled in my obligations by a wench. Should I find that Cimilan’s actions require my intervention, I will begin such intervention upon my own initiative. At the moment, I believe you have been commanded to perform a certain act. As I am filled with a kinsman’s concern, I suggest that you obey—and with speed.”

As Famira heard Ceralt’s words, a bitterness took her. Her shoulders straightened and her head came up, and the bleakness in her eyes was painful to behold.

“So you both mock me,” she said, her voice edged with all that which her body showed. Her eyes remained upon Ceralt, yet she also addressed the male Cimilan. “For many kalod I have been aware of the hatefulness of men, of their beastiality and lustfulness. I had thought, perhaps, to find myself wrong, yet your actions continue to prove my original estimations correct. Do as you will with me, I cannot prevent it, yet I refuse to contribute to my own moral degradation. I will not disrobe.”

The female stood with head held high, hands clasped before her, a look upon her face which was akin to that which might be found upon the face of a warrior about to be summarily executed by enemies. I, myself, knew well the concept of humiliation before males, yet Famira showed naught of thoughts of humiliation. I stirred in the lanthay fur beneath Ceralt’s hand, puzzled by that in Famira of which I had no understanding. Beyond Famira, Cimilan moved his gaze to Ceralt, an uncertain expression beginning in his eyes, yet the male must have seen a thing in Ceralt’s face which hardened his resolve. He looked again upon the female who stood before him, and reached a hand out to her shoulder.

“The matter, then, is simple,” said he, unconcern much evident as he turned the female to face him. “As you will not obey me, you shall be punished for the refusal and made to obey me. ”

He then pulled Famira toward him and put his hands upon her leathers, obviously with the intention of removing them. The female uttered a sound of combined shock and outrage and attempted to struggle and retain her garments, yet Cimilan was not to be denied. I wondered at the manner in which Famira struggled, for she had clearly indicated that she would offer no resistance to the male, yet she beat at him with her fists and cried out in dismay. Ceralt, whose hand had grown heavier upon me as though he thought I would rise to Famira’s defense, leaned closer to me and put his lips by my ear.

“Within her, she is no more than a fearful child,” he murmured, unheard by the others above Famira’s cries. “She fears men and what they might do to her, for she has not yet truly been made a woman. Observe her actions and recall them afterward.”

He then leaned back from me, for Cimilan had succeeded in removing Famira’s leathers, just then finishing with her breech. The city female reached at the bit of leather in desperation, yet Cimilan threw it behind him, beyond her reach. Famira was then nearly beyond herself, her anger gone, shock alone riding full within her. She was not badly made for a city female, full breasts, well turned hips, slender legs, flat belly, yet one would wonder at her concept of herself, were they to see the expression she wore. Her shame was not that she had been made to bare herself by the will of men; it was that she had been made to show her body to anyone other than herself. I marveled at the manner in which city females grew to womanhood, to accept selection by males as meet, to feel shame at baring their bodies. This Famira stood as one caught in dishonor, her body bent forward and half turned from us, her right arm stretched before her body, attempting to shield herself from view, her left hand at her face, disallowing sight of her pretty, red-flushed face. I knew Ceralt looked upon her, for his hand spread wide upon my back, moving slowly back and forth, stirring my blood as his desire came into being. Cimilan, too, looked upon the female Famira, yet the eyes of the second male detected a lack. He stepped to her and reached his hands to her hair, and another moment saw the clasps and plaits gone from it, Cimilan seeing that it fell loose about her shoulders, dark and flowing nearly to her waist. As he stepped back once more to survey his handiwork, a sob came from Famira, as though her soul were soon to be lost. Cimilan considered her a number of reckid, yet no further sounds came to interrupt his observations, and at last he folded his arms and addressed her.

“I do not find myself satisfied with that which I see,” he said, somewhat afrown. “Remove your arms from before you and straighten your body so that I might have what little pleasure sight of you brings.”

Famira’s head came up in wounded anger, hate filling her dark, flashing eyes, and then her arms no longer shielded her as she sent a look of daggers to Cimilan.

“You are a brute and a beast!” she hissed, leaning toward the male in her fury. “That you care naught for me I already knew, yet I thought you intelligent enough to keep the fact from others! Now my kinsman must surely face you, for you have voiced your lack of caring! Ceralt! It is the law of our people!”

She stood poised in anticipation, her eyes held fast to Cimilan, her fists clenched at her sides, yet the first words to come to her were not those she had anticipated.

“Of what law do you speak, Famira?” Ceralt inquired innocently. “No more was said before me than that the man to whom you belong is displeased with you. In that, Cimilan is correct. Your attempts at obedience are scandalously poor, and you shame me before him.”

The female’s head flew around to send her shafts toward Ceralt, and the color had risen truly high in her cheeks. “You low, vile, crawling sednet!” she screamed, beside herself with rage and disappointment. “To side with another against your own blood kin! You are as base as all men, Ceralt, as base and as filled with lust and decay! I despise you all and shall hate you forever!”

She then attempted to throw herself past Cimilan to the tent entrance, seemingly bent upon departing without clothing. Cimilan threw his arms about her to prevent this, and she turned to the attack as a child of the wild, claws and teeth set to commit violence. Famira had not learned, as I had, the futility of attack upon a male with no weapon save strength against his strength, yet the lesson was swiftly taught her when Cimilan forced her to the lanthay fur upon her back. The two struggled briefly less than two paces from where I lay, and then Cimilan had Famira’s wrists above her head, held by his left hand, his knees straddling her body. The female fought to free herself, head tossing back and forth, breasts rising in great agitation, body twisting between Cimilan’s knees, yet her strength was not equal to the task. Cimilan allowed her her struggles, a thing which brought bitter memory to me, for Ceralt had also allowed me a time of struggle, knowing full well how useless the attempt would be. I put my cheek to the lanthay fur, grasping it in my fists, finding that I also grasped strands of my own hair. Famira’s desperate grunts of struggle were much too familiar, and the ghost of shame touched my sense of honor and fitness. For what reason Mida had placed me there, upon my belly beneath the hand of a male, I knew not, yet I knew how difficult it was to bear. I could not touch the male of my own will, could not take him if desire came to me, could not send him to a corner and silence when matters of import required undisturbed thought. The life was not one I might easily accept, and Ceralt’s stroking hand upon my hair brought scant comfort. The male somehow sensed my disturbance, yet his gesture was the sort to comfort a slave. It did naught save agitate a Hosta war leader.

“Enough of this foolishness,” came Cimilan’s voice, and I looked up to see that he frowned upon Famira. “Your words and actions are equally unacceptable to me, and I wonder that a wench might be allowed to grow with such ignorance. This ‘lust’ you speak of as a part of men is also to be found in women. Have you never been instructed by a woman older than yourself?”

“My father has never felt the need to have me schooled in debasement!” snapped Famira, a light sheen of sweat covering her body. “Though you defile me with every touch of your hand, I shall resist you forever! I shall not wallow in the filth you and your ilk are so fond of!”

I had often wondered how city males saw to their needs when their females loathed their touch, and therefore watched Cimilan carefully. I had thought that some might perhaps joy in forcing themselves upon unwilling females, yet Cimilan was not such a one. The male regarded Famira’s flushed, resolute face in silence, then slowly shook his head.

“There is no filth to be wallowed in when a man puts his woman to use,” he said, more, patience to be heard than I had expected. “Women long for the touch of a man, for women have been shown the pleasure a man is able to give them. You, however, are still a girl, and the time has come for you to be shown.”

Famira frowned with lack of understanding, yet when Cimilan’s head lowered to her breast, a groping desperation seized her. She writhed at the feel of his lips upon her flesh, and cried out, “Cimilan, no! Do not offer me such debasement before others! Do not soil me before my kin!”

“Debasement seems to suit your flesh,” Cimilan murmured, his head raised somewhat so that he might regard the spear his lips had brought about. “Be silent a moment, and listen for the voice of your needs.”

His head lowered to her a second time, yet no more than the specified moment had passed before Famira’s breath came in great gasps and she again resumed her struggles.

“Release me!” she screamed, fear now clear in her features. “Do not touch me so, I beg of you! My shame is too great to bear! ”

“Shame?” inquired Cimilan, his tone even yet remorseless. “Do you often feel shame here?”

His free hand went to Famira’s womanhood and she gasped in mortification, then cried, “Oh!” at his touch. His fingers moved in a restless rhythm, and the woman beneath his hand could not restrain herself. She threw her head back with a moan, arched her body, then commenced weeping in a manner she had not yet done.

“No more, Cimilan, please no more!” she wept. “I fear what you will do to me. The pain was greater than any I have ever felt!”

“Do not fear, satya,” whispered Cimilan, his hand leaving Famira to move to his breech. “The pain will not visit you again, and should not have been allowed to spend this much time in your memory. The fault is mine, and I must now rectify it.”

He moved to her then and brought his body to hers, and again she pleaded and wept to remain untouched. The male heard her cries and responded with soothing noises, yet slowly, inexorably, he made her his. Her cries lessened when he was full within her, and her tear-stained face looked up toward his.

“There was, in truth, very little pain,” she allowed, her voice low. “Yet my discomfort is great and I feel no pleasure. Might I not be released now to replace my garments?”

Cimilan laughed softly and leaned down to touch her forehead with his lips. “Your discomfort will disappear when the tightness of you is lessened,” he said, his tone gentle and caring though he still held her wrists. “I am far from done with you, so your garments shall remain where they are. Do you feel this?”

“Oh!” she cried, her face reddening at the movement within her. She stirred in Cimilan’s grip, unsure of his intentions and still somewhat fearful, and then his hips began to move. Famira whimpered, feeling the strength of him, knowing his presence for the mastery it was, attempting to deny the weakness he brought upon her. His movement increased in speed and force, and her mouth opened in amazement, words lost to the unimaginable and inexpressible sensations being given her. Cimilan lowered his head and took her lips, and with a small, muffled moan, Famira began attempting to match his movement. In no more than heartbeats she leaped beneath him, crying out incoherently in response to the slave due he forced from her, lost in the pleasure of his manhood. I felt the demands of desire in my own flesh, yet my earlier disturbance had not left me. The two opposed forces fought in my body, one insisting that I beg in my need, the other demanding that I carry my pain in silence. My flesh ached from lying in one place so long, yet the distraction of the ache was not enough to overcome knowledge of Ceralt behind me. In Mida’s name, I knew not what might be done, and the sound of Ceralt’s voice startled me from consideration of the dilemma.

“See the unrestrained heat of her,” said Ceralt, unconcerned with being heard by any save I. Cimilan and Famira dwelt in a world made only for two, and heard naught save the heartbeat each of the other. “I have always known she would be magnificent for a rider,” he chuckled. “She had only to be chosen by the proper rider. True obedience will be long in coming to her, yet I venture to guess that she will no longer risk full insolence with Cimilan. Should he find the need to give her a hiding, she will thereafter pack her insolence away, no longer to be used upon men. I will listen closely for her first words when Cimilan releases her.”

Then his hand came to my arm and pulled me around to my back, so that I must stare up at his face. Light eyes met mine in sober regard and silence, and it was a moment before his hand came gently to my face.

“What disturbs you, satya?” he asked, a faint echoing disturbance to be heard in his voice. “I have learned to be wary of such silence from you, and your eyes show a great unhappiness. Speak to me of that which gives you pain.”

A lock of dark hair had again fallen to Ceralt’s brow, and I felt the desire to raise my hand and brush it away, clearing his vision. He saw so much and yet so little, and I was helpless to do other than as I did.

“It is not a thing which might be spoken of,” I replied, keeping my hand from him. “It might only be seen to should my word be returned to me.”

“No,” he growled, so softly that a chill touched me. “You are mine and shall continue to be mine. I see you have replaced your breech. Do you think this bit of leather will keep me from you if I should desire your use?”

“No,” I whispered, turning my head from him and closing my eyes. His hand had touched the breech, solidly, possessively, and the flesh beneath it burned as though touched by the coals I cooked upon. How might I think myself other than fully in his capture when the mere sight of him made my body his? His hand moved in and about the breech, forcing a moan from my lips, and his other hand came to turn my face back to him as he chuckled.

“A man must needs be touched by Sigurr to release one such as you,” he murmured, shifting about so that he might stretch out beside me. “You, too, are magnificent for a rider. Show me what you have learned in offering your lips to me.”

I opened my eyes to look upon him, yet sight did naught to alter his command. I raised my face to his, parting my lips slightly as I did so, knowing the gesture was one he approved of. My lips were his and he took them fiercely, showing again that my release would be through Mida’s doing and not through his. His arms held me to his body as he drew my soul from me, and Famira’s cries of pleasure were as daggers twisting through my flesh. I writhed in his grip, my need growing beyond my ability to govern, and Ceralt raised his head to regard me.

“What, again?” he laughed, putting his hand to my hair. “Surely you were seen to no more than a hin ago, and yet here you lay, squirming about as though untouched for feyd. You cannot possibly require further attention, so I will consider myself mistaken.”

He released me then to stretch and yawn, and then put himself flat upon his back in the fur beside me. I sat up quickly, knowing momentary shame, yet my desperation would not allow the agony to be borne in silence. It was the place of a war leader to take, yet Ceralt was no longer a male who might be taken from. I gazed upon him as my breasts rose and fell in agitation, and a comforting smile came to his face.

“Calm yourself, wench,” he murmured, drawing a thick strand of my hair toward him. “Speak to me of what disturbs you, and I shall do all possible to assist you.”

He waited patiently for what words would come from me, yet I was nearly beyond speech. I pulled myself to my knees and tore the breech free of my body, then put my hands upon his chest.

“I must be used,” I whispered in pain, pleading with my eyes. “My need is such that I will beg if necessary.”

He pursed his lips at my confession and gazed thoughtfully at the strand of hair in his hands, yet made no move to do as I had asked.

“So you are willing to beg,” he murmured, keeping his eyes from mine. “When one is willing to do a thing, that thing has proven itself less distasteful than another thing. Just how high does your need rage?”

His hands released my hair and suddenly came to me, one hand behind my waist, the other to test the intensity of my desire. I cried out and attempted to throw myself upon him, yet this he would not allow.

“We are beyond the time when you may force me to your service!” he snapped, keeping me from him by his hands upon my arms. “Have you no knowledge of anything other than forcing your will or begging to be taken?”

I struggled in his grip, unable to reach him, miserable in the knowledge that he would refuse me use. I burned within me, my flesh demanded service, yet I knew this service would not be forthcoming. From somewhere in the depths of my being, I found the strength to pull from his hands, yet when I attempted to take my misery to a far corner, this, too, was denied me. Ceralt’s fist came to my hair, and my head was forced to the furs.

“A question has been asked you, wench,” he pursued, his voice close to my ear as my face, as I held to the fur beneath my knees. “Have you never thought upon other methods of bringing relief to your flesh than taking it or begging it?”

His hand gripped my hair with such force that my head whirled, and my own hands went to his fist in an attempt to ease the strain.

“What other methods can there be?” I choked, seeing naught save my knees and the lanthay fur they rested upon, feeling naught save the squareness of the fist beneath my hands. “One is natural,” I gasped, “the means warriors have ever used upon males. The other is shameful, yet necessary when one has been made captive to males. There are no other circumstances.”

“Captive!” Ceralt growled in anger, his hand giving my head such a shake that I cried out in pain. I had no hope of loosening his grip, yet my hands went again to where he held me, resting gently against the corded strength of his fist. “Still you persist in calling yourself captive!” he ground out. “When will you no longer be a captive?”

“When Mida frees me from your presence,” I whispered, knowing he would give me pain again, yet unable to speak other than the truth. “This has been promised me, and it will surely come to be. I will not forever be the captive of a male.”

I had thought to hear him shout then, and perhaps see him beat me, yet no sounds came other than those from Cimilan and Famira. And then my head, held so cruelly to the lanthay fur, was slowly raised by Ceralt so that I might look upon his face. Strange did that face appear when once I knelt straight, strange in the impatience of his expression, the pain in his eyes. No anger showed from that which he had earlier felt, yet it lingered in the set of his body, the grip of his hand.

“You mistake the meaning of my question,” said he, his voice held low through effort of will alone. “When I asked when you would no longer be a captive, I meant I wished to know when you would begin to know yourself my woman. I had no wish to hear the fantasies of your frustration, nor do I care to hear them now. You may tell yourself you will one fey be delivered from me, yet such soothings to your pride will only bring aches to your bottom. It will be much the better if you learn what is needful for your place with me, for you will never cease to be mine while breath is left to my body.”

His eyes, the color of a vast stretch of water I had once seen, spoke to me as always of the belief he had in that which he had said. Till the breath leaves his body, he had sworn, and thus had he sealed his own fate. Each of us has the right to live her life as she sees fit, yet I gazed upon Ceralt’s body, so broad and strong, the flesh so firm, and wished I might force him to withdraw those words. That he stood himself against Mida’s will was plain, equally as plain as the certainty that he would fall. Lialt had seen it so, and I was indeed meant to ride free once more, and therefore Ceralt’s life was forfeit in a cause which had long been lost.

“I think it best that we return to our original discussion,” said Ceralt, his eyes examining me once again. “I have disallowed your taking service from me, and find no interest in having you grovel at my feet. In such an instance, this is what you must do. He then released my hair to lay himself flat upon the lanthay fur, his broad chest no more than a handspan from my knees. I shook my head to free myself of the lingering feel of his fist forcing me to his wishes, and his hand came to take a thick strand of my hair again.

“Here I lie,” said he, “toying with your hair, and there you kneel, deep in your need. I have no interest in seeing to your need, yet you cannot continue with it unseen to. What you must do is waken my flesh to feel a need approaching yours, and the way this might be done is to bring your flesh to mine, using it and your hands and lips to see to the task. You have only to remember that should you displease me with too great an insistence, I shall cast you from me to suffer in solitude. Come, now. Let us see what you may accomplish.”

His fingers played with my hair, his eyes awaiting my actions, yet I knew not what his instruction might mean. That I was to touch him was clear, yet less than clear was the manner in which this might be done. All confused, kneeling beside him, I reached a hand out to touch his belly with one finger, feeling the hair that clustered there just above his breech. How much simpler it would be to merely tear the breech from his body, taking that which he refused to give. And yet, when I had first touched him I had not attempted to force him to my will with strength and insistences, but had toyed with him to build his heat. Once, in the darkness, I had thought myself back in the forest with a sthuvad before me, and had attempted to take Ceralt as I would have among the Hosta. I clearly recalled the shock I had felt upon discovering an unbound male before me, yet such now seemed foolishness. Had Ceralt never taken and used me, that shock should result from his doing that very thing? If such was my purpose—and the ache in my body swore it was so—then why would I refrain from doing that which I had done in the forests? Again I looked to Ceralt’s eyes, seeing him as he watched me, knowing for how short a time I was destined to remain in his furs, and saw myself for a fool. Was I to refuse the enjoyment of his presence merely by cause of my captivity by him, denying myself as I could not deny him?

I shook my head slowly back and forth, holding his eyes, seeing the frown begin to crease his brow and then disappear as my finger trailed across his belly and down to his thigh. My left hand moved then as well, to the broadness of his chest and shoulder, and slowly, slowly, I leaned down to touch his middle with my lips. His firm flesh quivered as I touched it, lightly, gently, once, twice, thrice. My arms spread out upon his body, my lips barely touching him, I was yet able to feel how he fought to keep his breathing slow, to keep his hands from reaching for my body. I smiled to know that he sought a lost disinterest, and raised my head to send my gaze to his.

“Have you no interest in me as you are?” I whispered, keeping my hands amove upon him, in all places save where his rising hips sought to direct me. “Must I find another to quench the heat which you yourself have raised in me? What other shall I go to?”

“None other!” Ceralt growled, anger in his eyes as he raised up and pulled me to his arms. “You may not go to another save with my permission, and this you do not have!”

His lips took mine then, violently, demandingly, and soon I knew naught of what Famira and Cimilan were about. Ceralt had me, in his arms, in his possession, in the throes of a desire he had been unable to deny. I moaned with pleasure at the feel of him within me, knowing that the pleasure he gave was indeed fit for a war leader, for who else had the right to seek such? Ceralt was sthuvad beyond compare, and his loss would cut me more deeply than any other.

The joy continued for many reckid, and when I was at last released to lie alone on the lanthay fur, Ceralt, spent, at my side, I found a silence which had not before filled the tent. Yet lying upon my back, I turned my head toward Cimilan and Famira, discovering two sets of eyes filled with interest. The female sat upon the lap of the male, her arms as far about his body as they might go, he also with his arms about her, yet his hands were not unmoving as were hers. Cimilan joyed in the presence of his female, unclothed, near to his touch, and Famira, though most recently seen to, moved as though fire again began to claim her.

“There you have seen what you must strive for,” said Cimilan to his female, his lips briefly touching her hair. “You saw how her body moved to meet his, how the openness of her called him to heights of added pleasure. It is a thing all women are capable of, should their men know enough to demand it of them. Presently you will find that I demand no less.”

“I will strive for its attainment, Cimilan,” Famira whispered, her voice breathy with weakness. “I will give great attention in future to—oh! No, do not touch me so! You take my strength away doing so, and so soon again after having just—No, no, it cannot be done so soon again.”

“Can it not?” murmured Camilan as Ceralt chuckled and put his arm about me. “Very well, as you say it cannot be, I shall bow to your greater wisdom. Desire cannot again be raised in you, therefore shall I cease my efforts.”

He then took his hands from her body, moved her from his lap to the lanthay fur, and stood to stretch his broad body to the tent’s roof. Famira, having been unceremoniously placed alone upon the fur, looked up at the male above her with abrupt uncertainty, her thighs pressed tightly together. I shook my head over her foolishness as Ceralt continued to chuckle, for it seemed clear to any with eyes that Famira had been made to feel her need, yet had refused the male who might see to it. Cimilan retrieved his breech and quickly donned it, then reached down again for his leather chest covering.

“Do—do we now return to our own tent, Cimilan?” asked Famira, her tone uncertain and yet filled with considerable hope. “There is—a thing about which I would—speak with you alone.”

“Oh?” said Cimilan, gazing fondly down upon her, mellow good humor having been restored to him. “You need not await our return to our tent, satya. Speak to me now of that which concerns you.”

“I—I cannot,” choked Famira, her gaze slipping to Ceralt and myself before finding the fur beneath Cimilan’s feet. “It is a matter for your ears alone.”

“Such foolishness,” laughed Cimilan, crouching down beside her to touch her hair with a gentle hand. “Surely there can be no matter which may not be spoken of before the High Rider. Speak now so that we may ease your questioning the sooner.”

Again Famira’s eyes moved, this time to Ceralt alone, and though she seemed near to bursting, her head shook resolutely.

“The matter is not so pressing,” said she, pulling her legs beneath her so that she might rise to her feet. “I shall accompany you to our tent as soon as I am clad.”

“Cimilan, I insist you and your wench stay and take the evening meal with us,” said Ceralt, sitting straight to watch Famira reach for the leathers which Cimilan had removed from her. “There is little to be done till Hannil and his riders join us, and no need for the time to be spent in solitude.”

“High Rider, my thanks,” glowed Cimilan, standing the straighter with pride as Famira stiffened behind him. “We will be pleased to . . . .”

“No!” snapped Famira, fury filling her eyes and voice, her body beginning to tremble. “I wish to return to my own tent, and I wish to go now! Perhaps another time, Ceralt!”

“Woman, hold your tongue!” growled Cimilan, turning quickly to face her. “I will not have you spit upon the honor granted me! Stand yourself before the High Rider and ask his forgiveness for your ill manners, then thank him for requesting our presence!”

“I shall do no such thing” gasped Famira, clearly shocked at the insistence, taking a step backward from the male. She held her breech and leather shirt to her, as though to ward off Cimilan’s wrath with them. “I wish to leave, and need no one’s permission to do so!”

“You require my permission,” said Cimilan, his voice grown hard and cold as he kept his gaze upon her. “And now it returns to me that you must be punished for your earlier actions, yet at this moment the High Rider awaits your words of apology.”

One large hand went to her arm, the other to the leathers she held, and a moment later the female was once again bereft of leathers and quickly pushed to her knees less than a pace before me. It was Ceralt she had been knelt to, of course, yet Ceralt did not move himself before me. He remained seated upon the fur as he was and awaited what would occur.

“We await the apology, wench,” said Cimilan from behind a Famira who was well taken with rage. She had been shocked to find herself put to her knees after having her leather taken again, yet the shock had quickly changed to fury. Her fists clenched, her eyes blazing hot, she attempted to regain her feet, yet this Cimilan would not allow. His hand moved quickly to her hair, tangling therein, bringing forth a cry of pain from the female.

“The words?” repeated Cimilan, his voice soft as his eyes continued to rest upon a female who now knelt rigidly, aware that movement would increase her pain. Her eyes had returned to an awareness of shock, a disbelief that she might be treated so by a male, perhaps most shockingly that it was Cimilan who treated her so. Again I shook my head, despairing of her foolishness, yet what might one expect from a village slave-woman?

“I shall speak!” Famira choked, her hands to Cimilan’s fist in her hair, a tremor in her voice. “Release me and I will speak!”

“The choice of when to speak is no more yours than whether or not you may do so,” returned the male, his voice as soft as it had been. “Speak the words you now understand are necessary, and then, perhaps, you shall be released.”

“Perhaps?” the female whispered, meaning the word for no one other than herself. It had come to her that Cimilan need not release her if it was not his desire to do so, and her eyes, when moved to Ceralt, glistened with tears. “Cousin, I ask your pardon,” she whispered, the tremor in her voice grown greater. “I would have you—forgive my—lack of good manners and—also have you know—that your invitation is—most gratefully accepted.”

“Cousin, the pleasure is mine,” smiled Ceralt, speaking as though the words came freely from his kin. “You will ever find a welcome beneath my roof.”

“High Rider, we thank you,” said Cimilan, his hand yet in Famira’s hair, a smile again upon his face. “In token of our gratitude, my woman will be pleased to see to the preparation of the provender—without the aid of your wench. Is this acceptable to you?”

“That is very generous of you, Cimilan.” Ceralt grinned, again pretending that he had no knowledge of the stricken look which took possession of Famira. “There is time yet before the meal need be cooked, yet perhaps it would be wise for Famira to familiarize herself with the whereabouts of the supplies and utensils. I am quite sure she would be upset if our meal were delayed by cause of her unpreparedness.”

“In such an event, I have no doubt of her upset,” said Cimilan, speaking in main to the female he now raised to her feet by the hair. “Come, Famira, let us have you inspect the cooking facilities. You may remember such things from your time in your father’s halyar.”

The female drew her breath in in mortification, yet made no attempt to resist the male as he led her toward the holder of glowing coals. She stumbled along in his grip, striving to keep pace with him, and neither she nor the male were aware of my eyes having left them to go to Ceralt. That male sat and laughed softly as he watched the others, then suddenly became aware of my gaze. His eyes moved to mine where I lay in the lanthay fur before him, and his laughter softened to a smile.

“Why do you study me so?” he asked, his hand coming to smooth my hair. “Do you, too, have a thing which must be discussed in private?”

“It is more a matter of confusion,” I sighed, doubting my wisdom in speaking of it. “At first Ceralt would not allow Jalav to touch him, now he demands that she do so. I do not understand why this is—nor when it shall again become forbidden.”

“My poor Jalav,” said he, a sigh to match mine in his voice. “All about her is confusion, yet one fey understanding will come. For now she has only to understand that Ceralt welcomes the touch of her hands—as all men welcome the touch of their women. Come, Jalav mine. Stand now and replace your breech.”

My look must have told him of my new lack of understanding, for he chuckled as he took my hands and pulled me to my feet.

“I am sure Cimilan intends keeping Famira unclothed as an added punishment,” he said very softly so that only I might hear. “Should this be the case, the presence of your breech upon you will increase her embarrassment and decrease her willfulness. It is more than time she was taken firmly in hand.”

He turned from me to reclaim his own breech, and as I took mine in hand I again wondered at his concept of duty toward his kin. It was evident that the thought of Famira’s coming embarrassment pleased him, a thing no Hosta would allow herself to feel. Perhaps one must be of the cities and villages to consider such an act a part of honor—and find pleasure in it.

No more than a hand of reckid later, Lialt and Telion entered the tent. They paused beside the entrance to remove their body furs and dry the bottoms of their leg furs, and only when they stepped full within the tent did they see Famira and she them. The female had been kneeling among the packs of provender, seeking knowledge of what lay where, hidden behind the crouching bulk of Cimilan. As the two newcomers entered within, Cimilan rose to his feet to greet them, and Famira, all unknowing, also straightened from her search to find the eyes and grins of Lialt and Telion full upon her. Her flesh reddened, from face to ankles, her breath drew in in a gasp of mortification, and she quickly placed herself again behind Cimilan.

“My leathers!” she choked, grasping at the back of the male she stood behind. “Cimilan, I cannot reach my leathers!”

“For what reason do you require your leathers?” asked the male, an easy amusement to his tone. “It is warm within this tent, and we shall not be leaving for some time yet.”

“But there are others!” the female pleaded, pulling again at the male. “I cannot go unclad with others within the tent! I must have my leathers!”

“Nonsense,” laughed Cimilan, closing one eye toward Lialt and Telion. “I am pleased to have other men see my good fortune. Stand here before me and give greeting to the Pathfinder and the High Rider’s chosen brother.”

“No!” wailed Famira, once again reduced to tears. “I cannot, I cannot, I cannot!”

Then did she whirl away from Cimilan and throw herself toward the back of the tent, in among the packs and provisions, in an attempt to bury herself among them. Telion and Lialt chuckled well as Cimilan, with a grin, followed after the female, Ceralt also watching the sport with amusement, I, alone, finding no humor in the matter. Shame touches each of us in different ways, yet even village slave-women were able, at times, to feel its pain. Famira had undoubtedly earned her shame, yet there need not have been such—complete amusement—in the giving of it. The original doing had not been through her efforts alone.

The male Cimilan, full bent upon his amusement, drew the female from her hiding place with an arm about her waist. Her voice rose in a wail of pleading, she kicked and fought to remain hidden, yet naught moved the male from his purpose. In no more than a moment was she placed upon her feet among the three males, they having made a loose circle about her, seeing that they gave her no place to run. She stood with head down, weeping, attempting to hide herself with her hands, making more of the thing than any save a city female would have done. The males examined her with their eyes, yet Cimilan found himself dissatisfied.

“Remove your hands from before you, satya,” he directed, his voice not unkind. “Should it be necessary, your wrists may be bound behind you.”

Famira raised her head to look upon Cimilan, her eyes widened in denial of belief, her arms slowly dropping from before her. The female now knew, beyond doubt, that she was bound to males, theirs to do with as they pleased. Should Cimilan wish it, she would be bound tightly with leather, displayed before others or left untouched in a corner, to pull at the leather and struggle in vain. She dared not disobey his commands, dared not even consider such, and I folded my arms beneath my life sign, struggling to see the matter as Famira saw it. It is possible for any to fall captive to males, yet how might one give over dignity and freedom with no more than token protest? Had Famira been beaten near to death her fear might be understandable, yet naught had been done to her save the suggestion of a possibility, and there she stood, fearful lest she be bound in leather, a fate too horrible to contemplate. Much did I struggle for understanding, yet such was not meant to come to me.

“A lovely morsel, Cimilan,” said Telion with a grin, causing Famira to redden further. “It is good of you to allow us to look upon her.”

Indeed,” agreed Lialt, also with much of a grin. “I had not known my cousin to be so much of a woman. My congratulations on your good fortune.”

“You are horrid, all of you!” wept Famira, her hands now before her face, her head lowered to them. “You shame me with every word and care naught for doing so! I shall never forgive you never!”

The males looked upon one another with a twinkle Famira saw naught of, and again I shook my head at her foolishness. To berate those with power over you may be done only when one cares naught for the consequences.

“So you feel you have been given shame,” said Cimilan with a sternness his eyes belied. “I think, my girl, you have not yet learned the meaning of shame. Men have complimented your appearance, and you have returned them discourteousness. The insult must be wiped away. Lialt, Telion, please take seat and make yourselves at ease.”

Cimilan did as he had bade the other males do, and all looked up toward a Famira who now stood warily apprehensive, her hands no longer before her face, the tears running unheeded down her cheeks. Ceralt came to stand beside me, his face expressionless, his eyes amused, yet Famira no longer looked upon him. She looked only upon Cimilan, sparing not even a glance for the other males.

“Now,” said Cimilan sternly. “Hold your arms away from your body and turn to face Lialt and Telion. Do not return your arms nor face away from them without my permission, else you shall be punished on the spot.”

A lack of understanding showed in Famira’s eyes as she slowly did as she was commanded, yet the movement was not lost upon the males she stood before. Her arms, bent at the elbows, held away from her body, beckoned the males toward the sweetness of her form, the large breasts, the small waist, the obvious presence of her womanhood. A murmur of approval arose all around, from Ceralt as well as the others, and startlement at last came to Famira, to see such desire in the eyes of males. She looked upon Telion, then upon Lialt, seeing the heat sight of her brought, and then a feeling came to her which I was able to recognize from also having felt it. When Ceralt looked upon me with pleasure and desire, I often found that I wished to show myself to him even though the heat rose high within me at his gaze. I wished to show myself to him yet did not wish it so, for the desire I felt then was near to crippling, nigh unto agony. Famira stood with her long legs at ease, the left one straight, the right one somewhat bent at the knee, gazing at Lialt and Telion as they gazed upon her, and then, as though in curiosity, her head turned to Cimilan where he sat. Naked desire shown from the male’s eyes, pleasure and heat and pride bound together, and Famira suddenly shuddered, drew her legs tightly together, then threw herself to the fur at his feet.

“Cimilan, take me back to our tent!” the female wept, clawing her way to his lap and arms. “I beg you, Cimilan, I cannot bear the pain!”

“There is a way your pain might be eased, satya,” the male murmured, drawing her close to his chest. “Here, now, without the need of returning to our tent.”

“No!” the female whispered, twisting about in his arms. “You could not use me before these others! You would not!”

“Do you feel the act would shame you?” the male asked, moving his hands upon her body. “As badly as you have thus far been shamed?”

“Oh, much more!” Famira moaned, knowing naught of where Cimilan’s hands went till she cried out as though in fear of her soul. Her screams rang out again and again as she attempted to force Cimilan’s stroking from the center of her being, yet the male was not to be denied—nor was her flesh. It took no more than the briefest moment before she began to beg her use, there, upon the spot they sat, out upon the snow, anywhere possible that it might be done immediately. Cimilan laughed to see the change in her, put her to her back in the fur, and soon had full, deep possession of her. Telion and Lialt chuckled as they rose to their feet, and Ceralt stirred beside me.

“So much for the shame of use,” said Ceralt, stretching his broad body hard. “How quickly a wench may be made to change her views.”

“From whom were such views learned?” I asked as Telion and Lialt stopped beside us. “Should all village females glory in their use by males, who might be left to instill such beliefs in those not yet touched?”

My question had been for Ceralt, yet he himself made no answer as he looked to Lialt and Telion, who quickly avoided his gaze as they coughed into their cupped hands. Ceralt glared upon the two he called brother, then returned his gaze to me.

“Famira had the ill luck to be daughter to one who delighted in the unhappiness of others,” said he, his voice showing difficulty with the words. “In his attempts to protect his daughter from men with no honor, he, perhaps inadvertently, instilled too great a mistrust in her. It is, after all, a man’s duty to protect his daughter from unwelcome advances. How else might she be protected save with cautions deeply instilled?”

“Would it not be simpler to slay those without honor?” I pursued, frowning at the concept presented me. “The innocent are cruelly handicapped so that those without honor might live in peace? No Hosta would countenance such a thing.”

“Perhaps the Hosta are not mistaken in all of their views,” murmured Telion, drawing unreadable glances from Ceralt and Lialt. “In our civilized lands, the innocent do indeed suffer for the guilty.”

“I dislike straying from so fascinating a subject,” said Lialt, his haste causing him to speak before my own words might be uttered, “yet I feel that Ceralt should know that Hannil’s group has been sighted. They will be here well within the hin, and should be properly greeted.”

“By me,” nodded Ceralt, already turning toward his leg coverings. “We will take our evening meals separately, yet Hannil will expect our presence afterward. You two will, of course, accompany me.”

“Of course,” agreed Lialt with a nod from Telion. “Do you wish us with you now?”

“No,” denied Ceralt, taking himself toward his body furs. “I have rested and refreshed myself, and so must you do as well. Hannil is not one to visit with an unguarded tongue. Should you feel up to it, Lialt, you may give Jalav another reading lesson.”

By then Ceralt was well covered in furs, therefore did he take himself from the tent to see to the matter he had spoken of. Lialt and Telion looked upon one another with shrugs, removed their leg coverings, then found a skin of near-renth to share. Famira continued to writhe and cry out beneath Cimilan, causing Lialt and Telion to gaze musingly upon me, yet their musing looks no longer disturbed me. Were I to be used by them it would be so, for Mida had not freed me from my capture. I would accept their use as the trial it was, knowing my capture would one fey come to an end. I sat myself upon the lanthay fur, cross-legged as became a warrior, and awaited the end of my capture.

Perhaps half a hin passed in quiet as the males shared near-renth, and then did Lialt fetch the sheaf called book which contained black stokes called letters. Again I was made to kneel before the sheaf, and again did Lialt point to various strokes and pronounce their calling, yet this time was not as the time before. I immediately saw a stroke I believed I knew the calling of, and when I pointed toward it and spoke its name, Lialt was much pleased. He told me the stroke was the letter “see,” the letter which began Ceralt’s name, and then I paused, recalling the silent speech of the Midanna, which was taught to all warriors-to-be. So long had it been since I had learned it that nearly had I forgotten, yet all first signs taught to warriors-to-be had but a single sound. The sound “see” was made by all the fingers of the right hand, cupped in a semi-circle, as though measuring a small distance. The sound, the sign and the stroke, then, all had the same calling. I asked the stroke for Lialt’s name and the one for Telion’s, and each appeared somewhat the same though differences were apparent after inspection, each sound matching a sign I knew. Lialt became eager at my interest, near excitement in his manner, causing Telion to come close to watch our doings and speak a word or two of his own. It became apparent the strokes were much the same as tracks in the forest, identical to those with no knowledge of them, easily differentiated by one who has studied the matter. Jalav knew each track and print, each scent and habit of each child of the wild; was she to allow mere strokes upon thin leather to best her?

Much did I labor till the evening meal was prepared, Lialt and Telion by my side. Lialt had wished to end the session considerably earlier, yet I had pressed him to continue till all the sounds of all the letters had been shown me. There were less than six hands of such, nearly all the same as the signs I already knew, yet I found it as difficult separating one from the other as a new warrior finds separating the track of the hadat from the track of the zaran. It was this at which I labored, the separating of the strokes, till Telion stretched and stirred where he sat.

“It seems our meal has been prepared,” said he, gazing back away from the sheaf toward the metal holder of glowing stones. “I am pleased to see our stomachs need not suffer due to Jalav’s new-found zealousness. I had not thought it would be so.”

“The High Rider kindly accepted my woman’s efforts,” said Cimilan, causing Lialt and myself to turn toward him as well. He lay at his ease upon the furs, his breech and leggings and leg furs having been replaced, his expression strong with satisfaction. Famira knelt beside him, three cuts of meat upon the board she held, the aroma of cooked flesh only then coming to me. The female remained completely unclothed, her hair falling free down her back, her head bent so that the blush on her cheeks might partially be hidden, though the blush on her body showed clearly her awareness of the attention of males. Lialt and Telion grinned as they looked upon her, causing her to further lower her head in misery, and Cimilan chuckled as he sat up and reached over to stroke her hair.

“I feel you now know yourself to have been punished, satya,” said he to a Famira who seemed near to tears. “Should you wish to disobey me again, should you attempt to force me to your own selfish ends, you will in future know what the attempt will bring you. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” whispered Famira, tears glistening in her eyes as she raised her head to gaze upon Cimilan. “Indeed, all is completely clear to me now.”

“Such understanding should be shared with Jalav,” said Ceralt from the entrance, having entered in time to hear Famira’s words. “I often feel understanding is a total stranger to her.”

“In this matter, my understanding is complete.” I shrugged, turning about to sit cross-legged upon the fur. “Males may give shame and pain to see their desires brought about, yet females are forbidden to do the same. The reason for this is that males have greater strength and size, therefore, they are free to do as they please. The matter is called, ‘concern’ or ‘civilizing’ or possibly, ‘love’ or ‘generosity,’ and is clearly a male thing. None save males might act so in the name of honor.”

A moment of silence passed, broken only by the rustle of Ceralt’s furs being removed, the eyes of all those within the tent resting upon me. The males gazed upon me with frowns, Famira stared with pained yet silent agreement, then Ceralt dried the bottoms of his leg furs and came forward.

“Such sentiments are nonsense,” he asserted, removing his leather chest covering before crouching to face me. “Would you prefer seeing men give women true physical pain to see themselves obeyed? Would you have them beat their women with a lash to spare them the discomfort of embarrassment? Should these women be struck down with swords for the crime of insolence or haughtiness? Men are indeed larger and more powerful than women—yet they need not be brutal in their strength. It is enough to do only that which must be done to see themselves obeyed. ”

“And who is to decide what must be done?” I countered, looking up into his light, serious eyes. “It is, of course, the male himself. Surely it is more brutal to lash a female than to shame her to the point of wishing for death, says he, therefore do I show great generosity in doing no more than giving shame. That she may no longer hold her head up in dignity is of no moment, for surely she is more appealing to males with her head lowered and her eyes upon their feet. Surely does the male feel more a male with his female cowering upon her knees, a living tribute to his prowess as a male. How difficult it is, to put a small frightened, unarmed, female to her knees before you! How great is your concern for others, and how noble!”

“Enough!” growled Ceralt, putting his hands to my arms to shake me. “It is bitterness which speaks within you, not reason! The dignity you speak of is no more than foolish female pride, a pride now pinched to tenderness. It galls you that you may not be served by those about you, but must instead serve them, and as a woman. Women do indeed serve men because they are the smaller, the weaker. Those who serve well need fear neither pain nor embarrassment, a fact which you seem to have overlooked.”

“Ah, they are free, then, to obey,” I nodded into his anger. “How may one not envy such freedom, such glory? Indeed is Jalav wrong to bemoan her lot when such freedom may be hers as well.”

“What has gotten into you?” demanded Ceralt, releasing my arms to send a frown toward me. “Why do you suddenly speak so when heretofore the words must needs be torn from you?”

“I have learned a thing from males,” I shrugged, putting my hands. to my arms where his fingers had dug so deep. “To shame a female gives a male great pleasure, the more he desires her, the greater his pleasure. Too, her silence in the face of his great generosity does no more than convince him of her fear of him and her approval of his actions. Jalav is a warrior born, bred to fear no male living or dead. She shall never find aught save shame and pain at the hands of males, for such is the trial imposed upon her by Mida. To remain silent to avoid such shame and pain is the act of a coward, a thing she has, till this moment, failed to see. Ceralt may beat her or shame her as he wishes, yet no longer will she remain silent in cowardly escape. She shall speak as she sees fit till commanded to silence by he who holds her captive.”

“Yet, even then, the sentiment shall remain, the words merely unspoken,” nodded Ceralt, his eyes flat, his expression veiled. “No matter how I speak upon the matter, no matter what kindness I show you, still will you see naught save your own views, hear naught save your own beliefs. In your own thoughts you remain a captive—and a warrior. You have previously been warned concerning such attitudes; now shall you be punished. Come with me.”

Ceralt again stood erect in the silence about us, then turned away to walk to the center of the tent. The other males appeared most sober-faced as they watched me rise to follow him, yet none spoke a word as Ceralt seated himself cross-legged in the fur, then indicated a place at his feet.

“My captive may now kneel here, before her captor,” said Ceralt, gazing up at me where I stood. “Remove that breech and place yourself at my feet, where you belong, and speak not another word till you have my permission to do so. As you care so little for what is done to you, the position should cause you neither pain nor shame.”

My hesitation at his command was brief indeed, yet the lack of understanding which caused it was longer in duration. Fully had I expected to be beaten for my words, yet Ceralt, it seemed, was not of a mind to do so. He watched as I removed the breech and threw it from me, his light eyes showing little anger. It seemed more like pain which lurked in the pale, deep pools, yet naught had been said which might have caused such pain. I had spoken naught save the truth, yet the male felt pain from the words. Did he truly think himself blameless that the truth would put such a look in his eyes? As I knelt before him I would have spoken my questions, but I had been commanded to silence.

“You do not yet seem the proper captive,” mused Ceralt, studying me where I knelt, then his hand came swiftly to my hair. “I believe it would be best if this warrior’s head were bowed in proper humility. Bend yourself so, Jalav, and do not move till I release you.”

His fist in my hair put my head to the furs, forcing my body forward toward him as though I bowed in his presence. I knew a moment of anger and humiliation, then forced the feelings from me. The shame given me was by the will of Mida, no more than another trial her warrior must endure—yet the need for endurance was a trial in itself.

“Now, let us eat,” said Ceralt, a thick heartiness in his tone. “Come and join me, brothers. Cimilan, is your wench prepared to serve us?”

“Certainly, High Rider,” replied Cimilan, his voice somewhat subdued. “Famira, my heart, see to the others first.”

“Yes, Cimilan,” replied the female, the sound of her rising lost in the sound of the others taking their places. There was much moving about, murmured comments and questions, and then all seemed at last to be settled with their provender. I knelt as Ceralt had placed me, my head to the fur at his knee, my eyes seeing naught save the fur and my own knees.

“How went the arrival of Hannil?” asked Lialt after a few moments of silence. “Surely their tents already stand about the clearing with ours.”

“Their tents stand,” agreed Ceralt about a mouthful, then he paused to swallow before continuing. “Hannil himself stands with anger, for he is far from convinced of the wisdom of the journey. We must see to it that he does not return immediately from whence he came. When our meal is done, we are invited to visit his tent.”

“Surely, his own Pathfinder has seen the necessity for the journey,” protested Lialt. “Why does he continue to hesitate?”

“I know not,” muttered Ceralt, once again at his provender. “Perhaps we shall soon find out.”

The meal continued in silence, telling me little of the doings of others. I knew not whether those seated upon the lanthay fur looked upon me, yet it mattered not. Should the males press Ceralt for my use, they would show they had looked upon me. I knew the meal as having been concluded when the sound of movement betokened someone’s rising.

“We will now return to our own tent, High Rider,” said Cimilan, his voice as subdued as it had been. “I thank you for your assistance, and wish you success in your dealings with Hannil. Famira, replace your leathers.”

Soft footsteps hurried through the lanthay fur to do Cimilan’s bidding, and again the silence descended till Cimilan himself donned his leather chest covering and went toward his body furs. Then came the sound of footsteps close to me, and Famira’s voice above me.

“Ceralt—cousin—I beg of you not to be too harsh with her,” she whispered, a catch in her voice. “I feel sure she spoke as she did primarily on my behalf. I would not wish to see her punished because of me.”

“Do not be concerned, cousin,” Ceralt replied, his voice as soft as hers. “Jalav must reap what she sows—else she feels herself free to do as she pleases. Would you see yourself punished for insolence while Jalav goes free?”

“She and I are not the same,” the female replied, a wistfulness in her voice. “I would deny it if I were able—I have never before felt another woman superior to myself—yet denial would be idle. She is more than I shall ever be able to become.”

“You speak foolishness,” snorted Ceralt, an impatience entering his tone. “The wench is no different from you, no different from any other. She kneels at my feet, obedient to my wishes, and may be put beneath me as easily as you were put beneath Cimilan. Where, then, lies the difference?”

A brief moment of silence came, underscoring the heat of Ceralt’s demand, and then a stirring sounded, accompanied by a sigh which was half sob.

“Ah, cousin, my heart aches for you,” whispered Famira, her voice muffled as though against Ceralt’s shoulder. “I see now how greatly you desire her to be yours, so greatly you attempt to deny the evidence of your senses. May the Serene Oneness hear your prayer for aid and assist you to victory; I fear she will never be mastered as easily as I.”

“Famira,” Ceralt began, his voice softened again so that it nearly faltered. “Cousin, I thank you for your thoughts on my behalf. You make me proud before the man who has chosen you. Go with him now, and feel no further concern. All shall be well.”

A sound came as though they embraced, and then the female rose to her feet and departed the tent, the amount of cold entering saying two left at once. Stirring dotted the silence, and then Ceralt spoke again.

“No, Telion, do not say you agree with the wench,” he growled, all softness having left his tone. “A female may be thanked for uttering muddleheaded foolishness; a man should know better.”

“I intended saying nothing of the sort,” replied Telion with a yawn. “I merely intended pointing out that our wench here has felt herself responsible for all wenches about her for quite some time. Perhaps it is too soon to expect her to witness another wench’s punishment without the bitterness of being helpless to prevent it.”

“Perhaps,” Ceralt conceded, his voice unconvinced. “She may indeed be bitter for such a reason, yet a reason does not dispense with the need for punishment. If naught else, she must learn her old responsibilities are no more.”

“Such a thing may take more time than we currently possess,” Lialt sighed, rising to his feet. “I feel the Times pressing, the Snows demanding their due. There shall soon be room for thought of naught else. Is Jalav to accompany us to Hannil’s tent, or remain behind?”

“She must accompany us,” Ceralt replied, also rising to his feet. “Hannil must be shown every bit of evidence we possess to convince him of the necessity for the journey. How may we do so without the presence of the hadat? Jalav, straighten yourself now and replace your leathers. All of them.”

I raised my head from the furs in obedience to Ceralt’s word, yet found the need to kneel in place till the lightheadedness and whirling left me. The males, including Telion, all moved about fetching their leathers and furs, yet soon were able to stand and watch as I donned mine. Their interest in me seemed other than usual, with no word spoken even as we left the tent.

Without the tent the cold seemed to draw the life from one, a small wind sending it deep within one’s leathers and furs. Through the strange, lightened darkness and snow we trudged, toward a set of tents which had not stood about the clearing earlier. One tent, larger than the others as it was like that of Ceralt, three tents as one, was that to which we walked, all hurrying to the urging of the wind and cold. In but a few reckid we had reached its entrance, and Ceralt led Lialt within, Telion’s arm urging me in before him.

The new tent appeared no different from Ceralt’s, yet the smells within were strange and unattractive. Ceralt and Lialt paused to remove their furs, as did Telion behind me, yet it took a nudge of some strength from Telion before I was reminded that my leg furs must be removed with the rest. I did so most unwillingly, uneasy in the atmosphere which lay heavily all about, then Lialt and Ceralt moved more fully into the tent, and I was able to see those who occupied it.

Three males sat in a line upon the furs, two reclining at their ease, the third seated cross-legged as he drank from a skin which undoubtedly contained near-renth. Dark of hair and eye were these males, like all village males save Ceralt and Lialt, large, broad and strong like the others, yet somehow less alert, less alive. Each male was attended by a female, slight, dark, unclothed—and chained. The females knelt beside their males, their wrists, chained together, held close to their throats by yet another chain which circled their throats, their faces tense, their eyes filled with misery and fear. It was this fear which stained the air, fouling it so that to breathe it was to breathe terror and defeat, despair and hopelessness. Ceralt and Lialt moved as though reluctant to enter, and Telion made a sound in his throat, too low for others to hear. Had it been possible, I would have left on the instant.

“Ah, Ceralt!” boomed he with the skin of near-renth, wiping his mouth upon the back of his hand. “Thinking you would be longer in coming, we were about to begin a sport with our wenches. See, they have already been chained.”

“What a shame our arrival has caused you an inconvenience,” murmured Lialt, looking down upon the females. “The sport would undoubtedly have been an extraordinary one.”

“Not at all,” laughed the seated male, putting his hand to the female kneeling beside him. “Deela has many times played at the sport, therefore do the other two wenches lose to her with regularity. Perhaps it is time to devise a new sport, one which is equally unknown to them all.”

The female Deela, kneeling beside the male, had seemed as fearful as the other females—till one looked into her eyes. Secret triumph lurked within the large, dark orbs, twisting the female’s beauty to pleasured cruelty. At the male’s words her skin paled and terror came to her eyes, and immediately she bent farther and began putting her lips to the male’s belly and thighs.

“I see Deela wishes no part of a new sport,” laughed the male, putting his fist to her hair to hold her still. “To the rear of the tent with you, wench, on your knees and head to the fur. Serious business is now at hand; sport must wait for another time. All of you wenches, go!”

The three females struggled to their feet, hurried to the packs at the rear of the tent, then knelt with heads down as they had been commanded. Little relief had shone in their eyes, for their torment had merely been postponed.

“Does that one not know herself female?” asked the seated male, his eyes of a sudden resting upon me.

“Did I not say all females were to obey me?”

“Hannil, this is Jalav,” said Ceralt, turning to regard me without expression. “Do you forget the words describing the hadat of our journey? This one is hadat in truth, as opposed to accompanying us as would be one which walked upon four legs. She obeys none save me, for I have made her my woman.”

“Her eyes show little obedience of any sort,” muttered he called Hannil, displeased to a large degree. “How is she beneath those leathers? Worth the taking?”

“She is scarred,” said Ceralt, returning his gaze to the seated male. “She was near death when we retrieved her from the forests to which she had fled. She will wear the marks upon her for all of her days.”

“Indeed,” murmured the seated male, leaning back at his ease. “And yet, how badly wounded might she have been, that she now stands before us? I understand you claim the intervention of the Serene Oneness, preserving her solely to allow her to make this journey. Perhaps I had best see these scars you speak of, so that I, too, may be certain of the matter of intervention.”

Ceralt gazed down upon the male Hannil, his face expressionless, his body unexplainably more tense than it had been, unaware of the look Lialt sent him, unaware of Telion’s stirring beside me. No more than a brief instant did Ceralt stand so, and then he nodded as though naught had occurred.

“Certainly,” said he, something of a smile upon his face. “Let us by all means make certain of your belief. Jalav, remove your leathers.”

The eyes of the seated males came to me at Ceralt’s words, and I disliked their stare in its entirety. They anticipated more than the sight of the tracks of Silla spears, a thing obvious from the gleam in their eyes, the licking of their lips. They seemed more youthful than their appearance would indicate, mere children all aglow, about to indulge in forbidden pleasures. These males were males in appearance only, as some Hosta captives had proven to be, fit only to have lips curled when warriors looked upon them.

“Remove that look from your face!” Telion hissed in my ear, unnoticed by the others as they inspected my legs where I had begun taking the leather from me. “Would you force Ceralt to punish you here, before these others, to salve their pride?”

I made no reply to the male, merely removing the covering from my upper body, seething within at the battle my mind fought. Was I to hide my disgust at these new males to keep from being shamed before them? I could not bear either thought, wishing only to be shut of the entire lot of them, gone about Mida’s business as I was destined to go. How long, Mida, how long?

“Surely those are spear scars,” frowned one of the seated males, moving his eyes about me. “it seems unbelievable that she walks and uses her hands. I have seen riders permanently crippled with wounds less severe.”

“Yet they do naught to distract from the femaleness of her,” said Hannil, his eyes resting upon my breasts. “Have her remove the breech as well, Ceralt.”

“There are no further scars to be seen beneath her breech,” replied Ceralt, folding his arms across his chest. “Do we speak as those who shall ride together, Hannil, or do we merely nod in passing, each going his own way alone? Have you come here merely to see another wench stripped before you? Your own wench seems attractive enough to satisfy the wants of any man. Must we exchange wenches to have your agreement to the journey?”

Ceralt spoke sharply, deriding the other male, seemingly out of patience with the foolishness presented him. Hannil turned his head sharply toward Ceralt, nearly angered at having been spoken to so, and then he laughed.

“We had best not quarrel, brother,” said he, something distasteful behind his amusement. “The journey ahead of us will take much effort—if it is to be successful.”

“You will go then?” Lialt pounced, gladness in his tone. “You believe in the journey?”

“I have been forced to believe,” grimaced Hannil, reaching again for the skin of near-renth. “My own Pathfinder spoke to me of it before the arrival of Ceralt’s messenger, a dozen feyd before. I was also told of the hadat, what her appearance must be, how she would respond to the journey—and the certainty that death awaited us should the journey not be made. I wished only to see this wench of yours, to assure myself she was indeed the one spoken of by my Pathfinder. Take seat and let us drink together now, for who knows how much longer we will be able to do so?”

The three males about me looked upon one another, then took their places upon the lanthay fur, facing those who already sat. He called Hannil drank from the skin he held then passed it about, seeing that each of the males did as he had done. Once the drink had been partaken of by all, the females were ordered from the back of the tent, touched and kissed briefly by the males to whom they had run, then sent to the three males who were guests within their tent. She called Deela threw herself upon Ceralt, squirming and kissing at him, causing him to laugh in delight as she attempted to please him with her wrists chained near to her neck. I alone stood where I had been, arms folded beneath my life sign, body straight, head held high. The males had come for serious talk, yet there they sat, arms about the females who had crept to them, laughter in their voices, desire in their eyes. After some reckid of sport the talk again turned to the trail, a matter which should have been seen to at once. These males made mighty warriors indeed.

Surely more than a hin passed in talk of formations and march times, supplies and hunting, how many would remain behind with the females, how many would continue on. The males seemed intent upon the talk, yet how may one discuss possible battle amid the giggling and wheedling of slave-women? Ceralt and Lialt and Telion seemed pleased with the distractions pressed upon them, a thing Hannil did not fail to note. Many times did his eyes come to study me where I stood, and at last he leaned back once more in the lanthay fur.

“I see, Ceralt, that Deela pleases you,” said he, showing a pleasure of his own. “I find it odd that your own woman fails to kneel by your side, allowing, instead, another female the task of seeing to her man’s pleasure. Have you instructed her to act so?”

Ceralt raised his eyes to regard me, listening to Hannil’s words without expression, his hands spread out upon the female Deela, who pressed nearer and ever nearer to him. A moment passed in silence after Hannil had completed his observation, then Ceralt shook his head.

“No, I have not instructed her to act so,” said he, all inflection gone from his voice. “She continues to refuse acknowledgment of her position as a man’s wench, and I grow weary of it. Your wench’s welcome is a pleasant change.”

“Yet you must continue to keep the cold wench by you, for her presence is critical,” nodded Hannil, sober concern and complete understanding clear in his manner. “A pity you, who labor in the cause of all, must suffer while others make merry about you.” Hannil’s head shook in commiseration, and then his face lighted as his hand smote his thigh. “No, by Sigurr’s putrid breath, it need not be! You, too, shall have pleasure, for this darkness at the very least! You may use Deela, and I shall keep watch over this silent statue.”

“That is very kind of you, Hannil,” Ceralt began, his hands amove upon the female he held, “yet it may not . . . .”

“No, no; I insist!” interrupted this Hannil, his face pleased and full of friendship. “You need not protest out of a sense of, propriety, for I shall hear none of it. As there be two other wenches in the tent, I will not find myself bereft. Take her, brother, and find the joy in her you have so valiantly earned.”

Ceralt hesitated, and then his eyes touched me again, staring as though he searched for a sign which might guide him. I took my gaze from his and looked toward the tent wall, already knowing which way he would decide. Ceralt wished a village slave-woman for his own, one who knew naught of being a warrior. Jalav was not one such as that.

“You see, she makes no protest,” said Hannil, his voice as pleased as it had been. “To an unwilling wench, one place is as distasteful as another.”

“Apparently you see the thing more clearly than I,” said Ceralt, and then came the sound of his rising to his feet. “Had she desired to return with me, she would have spoken of it. I accept your kind offer, Hannil, and shall find some means by which to repay you. Remove the chain from this wench. so that she may find her leathers and furs. Jalav, as my company is so distasteful to you, you will remain here.”

Further sounds came, of rising and dressing and preparations for departure, yet through it all I continued to look upon naught save the far wall. Ceralt had the female he desired, clearly his free choice in the matter, yet had he attempted to show the choice as one forced upon him by my actions. Was I to believe he had no memory of commanding me to silence, that he spoke of the lack of words from me? Perhaps the male spoke to confuse the others, yet it mattered not. Again had I been given to a strange male, to face the trials imposed upon me by Mida.

Ceralt and the others, accompanied by the female Deela, at last left the tent to a considerable silence. Hannil and his males sat in silent contemplation of me, eyes hooded and faces thoughtful, and then, after a full hand of reckid, Hannil rose to his feet to approach me. His face showed naught of what he was about, yet suddenly was I taken and held by male strength, his arms about me and holding me still, till the chains taken from the female Deela were firmly closed upon me. About my throat was the largest secured, to that one the two upon my wrists attached, all holding me as Hannil wished, confining me as though I were a slave. Hannil laughed to see the manner in which I struggled, useless as always against the metal of males, then his fist found my hair to force my gaze up to his.

“It is now time for sport earlier begun, wench,” said he, stroking his hand down my belly to the breech about me, then tearing the breech away. “Now you seem much the same as any other wench, save perhaps a bit more to pleasure a man’s hands and eyes. Truly are you well made, well made indeed.”

His hands, free of the breech, came to fondle and stroke my breasts, quickly bringing them to eager points. Again I struggled against the chain which held me, shamed to my soul that the touch of one such as he would reach my blood.

“You are quick to heat for one so cold,” he laughed, taking the points he had made between his fingers. “It is my sincere hope that you will be first to lose the game, allowing me rapid access to this body of yours. Taking you now would be pleasant, yet entirely against the rules of the game.”

The other males asprawl upon the lanthay fur laughed with the one before me, then was I pushed to the center of the tent, a moment later joined by the other two females, propelled in the same manner.

“For the benefit of the newcomer, I shall explain again the rules of the game,” said Hannil, coming to stand before myself and the two who cringed in fear beside me. The male now let cruelty stare from his eyes, now that males who knew him not were gone. “The matter is simple, Jalav, in that there are the bodies of two forest scarm hidden within this tent. You wenches must search for them without use of your hands, and immediately upon finding one must take it in your teeth and bring it forth to lay it at our feet. She who fails to find a scarm is the loser, and must then pleasure my riders and me till our desire is spent. We, of course, take the loser together, that she not feel undesireable and unwanted. Do you understand?”

His eyes again moved about me, his grin strong as he stood with fists upon his hips. I said naught to that which I had been told, for I had not been given instruction for my own benefit. These males held to a twisted code, one which demanded that they give warning to their intended prey, a warning which would nevertheless prove useless. Though I failed to acknowledge their instruction, their codes were satisfied, as Hannil’s nod immediately showed.

“You may now all begin,” said he, stepping back and to one side. “We bid you good hunting.”

The other males laughed softly with their leader as the two females beside me looked fearfully about, then moved in opposite directions to begin their search. I continued to stand as I was, declining even to look in the places where the scarm must lay hidden. A smell of dead things came from two places to the rear of the tent, one which should have been clear even to those of cities and villages. Though Jalav continued to be captive to those about her, her senses had not yet died as theirs had long since done. The males looked upon my refusal, glanced at each other and to their leader, then those upon the lanthay fur rose to join Hannil in standing before me.

“Unwilling and unbending,” murmured Hannil, a hand to his face, his eyes calculating. “Shall we declare her loser now, or wait till the others have found their scarm?”

“If she will not search, she cannot win,” said one of the others, putting out a hand to stroke my thigh.

“And yet, the insolence in her gaze annoys me,” said the second, staring deep into my eyes. “As though she might win easily should she wish to make the effort.”

“Aye, there is much insolence to be seen in her,” nodded Hannil, his eyes aglow. “I feel she will make no effort to please us as she is, therefore must we give her reason to make the effort. ”

He then turned away from me to go to his belongings, and when he straightened to face me once more, his hands held a lash. Those females who had been searching the tent froze where they knelt, terror filling their eyes, a terror I, myself, could feel in no small part.

“See the look in her eyes now!” Hannil exclaimed, pointing with the coiled, heavy leather lash. “The bite of the sednet has not even reached her, yet she knows and fears it. Once, she has felt its kiss, her service will be eager indeed. Hold her.”

I turned to run from the males, from the pain they intended for me, yet escape was not possible. With my wrists fast to my throat, I was caught easily before I might gain the opening of the tent flap. The two males turned me roughly back to the center of the tent, threw me to my knees, then forced my head to the fur with their fists in my hair. I fought them uselessly, near mindlessly, recalling again and again the touch of the lash, the fire of its track, the scream of its presence. I writhed in the males’ grip, feeling their amusement through the relentlessness of their hold, hearing when Hannil shook out the coils of the lash as Bariose had done so long ago in the city of Bellinard. I shook to the fear which held me even more tightly than the males themselves, trying in vain to keep my voice still.

“No!” I screamed, the word forced from me, though my insides came forth with it. “No! Ceralt!”

“Ah, the wench speaks,” laughed Hannil, pleasure much in evidence. “A pity her words are wasted on one who lies elsewhere, sporting with a gift. He does not hear you, my pretty, nor would he care even if he were to hear. Let us begin.”

I screamed the scream of a wounded hadat, fear and hatred and pain co-mingled, trapped by those who would savage my soul. I twisted about in helplessness, awaiting the first stroke of fire, and then a voice spoke, startling all within the tent.

“You are mistaken,” came the soft, menacing tones, fury held carefully to feed the softness. “Ceralt does hear and does indeed care. Release her now or face me with weapons. I care not which you choose.”

The hands of the males, so tight to my arms and hair, quickly disappeared, allowing me to straighten upon my knees. Within the tent stood Ceralt, Lialt and Telion entering behind him, all staring with deep anger at Hannil and his males.

“Remove the chains from her,” said Ceralt, looking as though he kept himself from speaking further only with great difficulty. Hannil stood where he had been, the lash in his fist, fury upon his face, without words to counter Ceralt’s demands. One of the two males who had held me removed the chains from my throat and wrists, and Ceralt gestured to my leathers and furs, indicating that he wished me to don them. I rose to my feet and did as he commanded, sickness filling me over that which I had done. When completely clad, Lialt and Telion held the tent flap for me, then they and Ceralt followed my track into the cold and darkness.

I walked across the snow, surrounded by the males, so completely filled with shame that I could not bear my own company. I had been a fool to think no further shame could touch me, a fool to believe no worse could come to me than at the hands of males. I had shamed myself more than the males had ever done, a thing I had not thought possible to do. And yet the why of it eluded me, the reason for its having happened. Never before had I sunk so low, and I knew not how a warrior might bear it.

“Those vermin!” snarled Telion suddenly, no longer able to keep silent. “It is now no wonder that those wenches cringe when near them! Do we truly require their presence, Ceralt?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” replied Lialt when Ceralt did not speak. “The Snows demand their presence as they demand ours. Should matters change, I will speak of it at once.”

“Jalav, were you hurt?” asked Ceralt, abruptly stepping beside me to put his arm about me. At the shake of my head his arm closed more tightly, his free fist rising before him. “Through no fault of mine!” he spat, his anger directed elsewhere than at me. “Sigurr take my wits, for surely I, myself, have never used them! To leave you there. . .!”

“Gently, Ceralt,” soothed Telion, coming to place a hand upon his shoulder. “Even I failed to see the truth at first. A man cannot be blamed for being blinded by pain and disappointment. You thought she wished none of you, forgetting her inability to show her true emotions, thought she refused even to speak to you, forgetting you commanded her to silence. Be thankful we saw the truth in time to correct the error.”

“Barely in time,” muttered Ceralt, yet he gave over railing at himself for the balance of the walk. When we reached his tent he thrust me first within, then he and the others followed. I immediately began removing my furs in the heat, and was startled by the abrupt appearance before me of the female Deela, who had earlier been taken from Hannil’s tent by Ceralt.

“No!” snapped the small female, seemingly in great anger. “You were to remain in my place while I took yours! You may not return here this darkness!”

“Do not fear, wench, you shall not be so quickly returned,” said Ceralt, coming to stand beside me. “There are other furs to be filled in this tent aside from mine.”

“Let her fill them!” spat the female, tossing her head in fury. “I am too beautiful and desirable for any man not a High Rider! Hannil allowed the others to toy with me, yet only he took me! I am meant for the High Rider of the Belsayah, and so it will be!”

“I see,” murmured Ceralt, stepping forward to look down upon the small, pretty female. “I also see that the fear you felt in Hannil’s tent is no more. Why should this be so, wench?”

“What is there to fear here?” The female shrugged, looking uninterestedly about the tent. “All know Belsayah men are weak, too weak, even, to own a lash. I am weary from the fey’s ride, Ceralt, and wish to be taken to your furs now. We may not dally long, of course, for Hannil will insist upon an early beginning come the new light. Should you intend to use me at all, it must be now.”

“Must it indeed,” murmured Ceralt, his head high as Lialt and Telion joined him about the female. The poor, foolish slave-woman saw naught of the manner in which the three gazed upon her, for she seemed more interested in her own appearance than in the thoughts of males. She stood somewhat turned from them, her hands to her hair, her body held gracefully beneath the leathers she yet wore. As the three males exchanged glances of annoyance and anger, I turned from them all, went to the far side of the tent, removed my leathers, and sat. I cared not how the discussion would be resolved, so filled with shame and dismay was I.

“Brothers, we have been ordered to our furs,” said Ceralt, looking not upon the other males but upon the unseeing female. “Think you we dare do other than obey?”

“Certainly not,” said Lialt, folding his arms across his chest. “Belsayah riders, in their weakness, dare do naught other than obey. ”

“Yet, I am no more than a visitor among the Belsayah, a lowly warrior of the cities,” said Telion, also with arms afold. “Perhaps I, alone, might be permitted to disobey.”

“Have you truly such courage?” asked Ceralt of Telion, watching as the female at last turned to regard them with a frown. “l, myself, am too fearful, too beaten down.”

“Should Telion do such a thing, I, too, may find the wherewithal to act so,” said Lialt, looking, like the other males, no place other than upon the female. She, seeing their stares, slowly began shaking her head, slowly-wide-eyed, began backing away, yet the realization of her true position came far too late. Telion and Lialt moved no more than two easy paces before the female found herself trapped between them, her leathers the most immediate object of their hands. She struggled and screamed as though being torn limb from limb, indignation high within her, yet so quickly were the leathers removed that she stood bare before them in no more than a moment.

“This may not be!” the female fumed, attempting to pass the two males and approach Ceralt. “I am not meant for the likes of them!”

“You may be correct,” Ceralt nodded most soberly, looking upon the female’s body with pleasure. “Should they touch you and find you completely unresponsive, they will allow you sleeping furs of your own, where you may lie undisturbed. If, however, they find a spark of warmth within you, they will encourage it till you politely request your use. Belsayah men allow a large measure of freedom to wenches who do not belong to them. If it is this which you mistook for weakness, you will not mistake the two again.”

The female cried out in anger as Lialt and Telion, having removed their leg and chest coverings, took her to the far side of the tent, Telion holding her arms as Lialt unfolded two sets of sleeping furs. The three were quickly down upon the furs, Ceralt doing no more than removing his chest and leg coverings as he watched Lialt and Telion begin to give the female their attention. The female truly seemed to dislike their touch, yet was she female and they male. They touched and stroked her body, kissed and caressed it, demanded and took; when next she cried out it was with desperation, a look of disbelief strong upon her face. Her body writhed to their smallest touch, showing it would not be long before she begged her use. Ceralt stood and chuckled as he watched, and I turned away, too ill to scorn or commiserate.

It could not have been more than two hands of reckid before the female began screaming in her need, causing laughter among the males. I barely knew when one of them began giving her release, knew naught of the approach of Ceralt till his hand touched my arm. I opened my eyes to see that the flames-within-boxes had been extinguished, and was glad of the darkness which hid me within it.

“Come to my furs, satya,” Ceralt said softly, a shadow rising straight beside me. I, too, rose to my feet, made my way through the darkness in his wake, then lay myself down beside him. His hands touched my body, found the breech I yet wore, quickly removed it, then drew me more closely to him. I had not resisted, could not resist, yet his lips touched mine only briefly before his head drew back.

“What disturbs you, satya?” he whispered, a concern to be heard in his tone. “Are you yet disturbed that I was so foolish as to leave you with Hannil?”

I shook my head, dismissing the suggestion, knowing there was a thing of greater moment concerning me.

“Your misery is so strong that I feel it in your flesh,” said Ceralt, moving his hand upon me. “Speak of that which disturbs you, so that I may share it and perhaps ease it.”

“Do not ask me to speak of it,” I whispered, closing my eyes even against the sight of his shadow form. “Have I not shamed myself enough that you would have me add to it?”

“Shamed yourself?” echoed Ceralt, confusion in his tone. “In what manner have you shamed yourself? I bid you speak, woman, for I would hear of this.”

I writhed briefly in his arms, consumed with the need for silence, achingly aware that I could not disobey, then choked out, “Why do you force me to this? You yourself heard my shame, the weakness and fear so great within me that I called upon a male sooner than face it. How am I to call myself a warrior, knowing I behaved so? How am I to think myself a war leader, who must know no fear? And how am I to bear being forsworn, from speaking my cowardice after having been bidden to silence? Truly have I shamed myself more than any effort of yours. ”

I attempted to twist from his arms, to take my shame further away into the darkness, yet he pulled me tight to his chest and held me there, stroking my hair with a gentle hand.

“You are not forsworn,” said he, sounding much like a war leader correcting the misconceptions of her warrior. “Were you not told, long ago in the forests between Bellinard and Ranistard, that should someone again offer you harm you were to raise your voice and shout for my assistance? To obey my command is not to be forsworn.”

I paused in my agitation, suddenly recalling the time he spoke of, yet the discovery did little to ease my upset. I had not had memory of such instruction, had not recalled it and purposely acted to obey. If not forsworn I remained much shamed, for such a thing could not be faced with other than the truth.

“Ah, Jalav,” Ceralt sighed. “Still does the misery hold you. The strictness of your codes continue to give me pain—and your adherence to them as well. You spoke of shame, yet I failed to see what shame there might be for you in a thing which gave me such joy. Do you not know, woman of my heart, how long I waited to hear you call upon me in need, rather than bear the load yourself, alone and in silence? My heart leaped with greater joy than it had ever known—and you found naught save shame therein? Can there be shame in giving another such joy?”

“How can there be joy in another’s fear?” I whispered. “How can there be joy when that fear should never have been voiced? Why must males forever find joy in that which brings a warrior agony?”

I spoke these words, aching within, caring naught for what Ceralt might do upon hearing them. Should he end my life in his anger, the world would be the better for it.

“Why must such fear be unvoiced?” he demanded, suddenly less than gentle. “Are you so different from others that you, alone, must feel no fear? Men feel fear, and wenches too, and all gain in the feeling of it. How can there be bravery if fear is never felt? To overcome such fear is the mark of a man, not the denial of its very existence. When the thing feared is worthy of fear, there is no shame in the voicing of it.”

“There can be no bravery without fear;” I echoed, my hand reaching to touch his arm, my mind, though well confused, recognizing the truth in his words. “Yet I cried out to you, like a craven, begging the aid I should not have needed. I showed no bravery, and the words cannot be called back.”

“When fear and need are so strong that one cries out, to whom does one call?” he asked, gentle yet not to be denied.

“Does one call to a stranger, to the one offering harm, begging their lenience? Such a thing would indeed be weakness—yet this was not what was done. You called to one who holds your trust despite the witless things he does, despite the pain he has caused you. You called to one who holds your heart as you hold his—to one who is forever a part of you. Is there shame, my heart, in calling upon another part of you?”

I fell silent in confusion, knowing his words mistaken, yet knowing not how they might be denied. And a peace stole over me, a peace which might have come from words Keeper-spoken, one which soothed the distress and took all trace of it. Again his lips came to mine, gently demanding, softly taking, and this time the male scent of him came as well, causing my head to whirl as ever it seemed destined to do. My hands touched him as his touched me, and the female Deela and her moans and pleadings were quickly lost for all of the darkness.