An Oath to Mida

8 The circle of choice—and a vow is stolen

Thought returned with the opening of my eyes, yet I lay still for many reckid, unwilling to move. Clearly, in my mind’s eye, lay the memory of the previous darkness, and my bitterness and humiliation were great. I turned my head in the lenga fur to gaze at the fire, feeling no comfort from the softness beneath my cheek and upon my body. No longer was the leather garment upon me, yet this, too, was an infuriating cause for shame. Without doubt, Ceralt and Lialt had removed the garment from me, perhaps even amusing themselves with my unknowing body. Some small soreness remained from the touch of Ceralt’s leather, and I closed my eyes, tasting the sourness of confusion unrelieved. Many times had Ceralt done me so, giving me humiliation and pain, yet never before had he been so firm in his decision, so hard with the leather. Most often I had felt that he beat me reluctantly, wishing the need for it were unnecessary, yet this time there had been much of willingness in his strokes, and my flesh twinged in memory of such willingness to give me punishment. Once before had he beaten me so, with willingness, using naught save his hand, the occasion being the time I had lured the hunting hadat to me to keep it from being slain by city males. At that time he had told me that I was never to do again as I had done with the hadat, and I had known then that I could not gainsay him in the matter, that his word had been as the word of Mida. Strange did it seem that the word of a male might be likened to the word of Mida. I drew my hands below my chin so that I might lean upon them. Was there ever a time that a male must be heeded as a warrior would heed the will of Mida? Would there be a time when I, myself, would find the need to obey Ceralt as I now obeyed none save Mida? I shook my head angrily, dismissing the thought, yet it continued to plague me. How often would I find punishment and humiliation at the hands of the male? How long before I might ride free of his demands and disapproval?

A fair amount of time had passed before it came to me that rain covered the dwelling’s windows, yet the rain was of a sort which I had never seen before. Hard as stones did the rain seem, clattering upon the wooden frames of the windows and upon the roof as well. Dim was the dwelling even with the firelight, and few would be the folk about on such a fey. The thought at first caused little interest in me, then I cursed myself for a fool. On such a fey might escape be more than possible, my movements hidden beneath the tears of Mida. On the instant did I decide to make the attempt, and quickly sat up to throw the covering lenga pelt from me—only to find that which I had not earlier felt. A slim circle of metal held firmly to my left ankle, three links then leading to a bolt set newly in the floor. In anger, I reached over and tugged at the bolted links, yet my ankle remained held in the circle of metal as though there was naught which might free it. In fury, I pulled harder yet, then beat impotently at that which sealed my captivity. Ceralt had done this, had again set me in chains, and I would have gone for the eyes of the male had he been within reach! Much did I throw myself about in rage, shouting imprecations down upon Ceralt’s head, yet my struggles were to no avail. Chained did Ceralt wish me, and chained would I remain till he saw fit to free me.

In misery, I sat myself upon the lenga pelt, my knees drawn up to my chin, my arms wrapped about them, my hair partly beneath me, partly over my shoulder. I now felt the weight and inflexibility of the metal, holding me where I least wished to be. The wind blew the stonelike rain against the walls and windows of the dwelling, now softly, now with a force like that of charging warriors, and the warmth of the fire seemed to do little for the chill of the room. I sat so for no more than a handful of reckid, and then the door opened and closed quickly, admitting a dripping wet Tarla. The female wore her usual coverings, yet another covering had been added as well. Upon her upper body were furs, much like the leg wrappings, yet these furs covered her body to her waist including her arms, then rose from her collar to cover her head as well. No more than her face showed from the midst of them, and as quickly as the door closed behind her, she drew off the body furs, shook the water from them, then hung them upon a wall peg. The leg wrappings followed the body covering, also shaken and stood by the wall, and then the female turned to me, a pleasant smile of greeting upon her face.

“How do you fare upon this new fey, Jalav?” said she, her tone light as she pushed at her hair with one hand. “Though the fey starts poorly, it is sure to improve with the coming of darkness. ”

She looked down at me where I sat, her large eyes sparkling merrily, a delighted laugh bubbling in her tone. With the metal fast about my ankle, I saw little reason for such gaiety and less for pretending to pleasantness. I looked upon her with the coldness a war leader showed for an erring warrior, yet this, too, seemed to amuse her.

“Now, now, none of that!” she laughed, waving a finger in mock severity. “You must not frown at all this fey, for frowns put lines in the loveliest of faces. As soon as you have eaten your falum, we shall brush and comb your hair to shining.”

She then took herself to the fireplace and began preparing falum, humming softly as she worked. Without doubt she had seen that I was chained, yet she smiled and laughed and hummed as though in the best of spirits. I moved my eyes to follow her actions, frowning at such inexplicable behavior. Perhaps her wits had been taken by Mida, and she no longer knew what she was about. If that were the case, I would be kind to her, for one must always be kind to those who are bereft.

In a short while the falum was heated, and Tarla placed some in a pot, then brought the pot to where I sat. The odor of the cooking falum had caused my appetite to stir, yet captivity had ever proven itself an excellent curb to the urge to feed. I had no wish for the falum, and turned my face from Tarla’s offering hands.

“Take the falum, Jalav,” said Tarla softly, an odd hint of strength to her tone as she knelt before me. “You ate poorly upon the fey previous, therefore shall I see you well fed this fey. ”

“Shall you indeed,” said I, turning again to regard her. “I had thought I had made it plain that I no longer wished your presence. ”

The female showed no sign of the flush I had expected. Instead, her chin rose high and a flashing anger came to her eyes.

“Oh, aye!” she nodded shortly. “You did indeed make it plain that my presence was no longer wanted! And I, like a silly fool, ran blubbering from your displeasure, allowing you to make away from the village with none to stop you! Had Ceralt not found you and fetched you back across his lanthay, this fey you would be without shelter and food, alone in the woods, pelted by sleet, and half dead! Had I been Ceralt, the hiding you received would have done far more toward knocking the foolishness from you! Now, take the falum and eat!”

Again was the pot thrust at me, Tarla’s anger nearly spilling the falum from over the side of it. I was taken much aback by the female’s ranting, for she seemed a different Tarla from the one I had known. No longer did she seem to fear me, no longer were there tears close behind her large-eyed gaze. Now there lay a sternness upon her, as though I were not yet a warrior, and she an attendant grown weary of my disobedience, recalling again her warriorhood. Once, when I was a child, an attendant had grown angry with me in such a way, the warrior blood in her coming again to the fore. I had thereafter taken care not to anger her further, for her dagger had been sharp, and I had not had the skill to wield one. This Tarla, however, knew naught of the ways of a warrior, and once past the initial surprise, my annoyance rose to the fore.

“A warrior shall always escape when she may,” said I, looking upon Tarla with less than friendliness. “Had I been in the woods this fey, I would have found shelter and survived till the new light. A warrior does not fear that which Mida sends, for she has learned to deal with it. Jalav is no village slave-woman, to tremble before the thought of the forests and the displeasure of males as others do. Take your offering from me, slave, for I wish none of it!”

This time the flush grew ruddy upon Tarla’s cheeks, and her full lips tightened in greater anger. “I am no slave,” she hissed, “nor shall I ever be! I am a woman of men, a thing far better than being a woman who knows naught of men save what pleasure their bodies may bring. It was not I who smarted beneath the touch of leather last darkness, nor is it I who now sits chained in place as a further punishment!” Her words ceased, and she straightened her shoulders before regarding me levelly once again. “The High Rider has told me that should you fail to take nourishment, I am to send for him so that he may come with his leather and thereafter feed you himself. Should this be your wish, you have only to leave the falum uneaten.”

She then placed the pot upon the floor, beside the furs, and returned herself to the fire where she busied her hands with the clearing away of the pot in which the falum had been made. I sat a moment longer, my arms still about my legs, my thoughts going to the time when Ceralt had indeed fed me. The shame of the memory was so great that I closed my eyes and hid my face against my thighs, but then I saw that I had sought to hide myself too often of late. No more than shame might a warrior expect from a male, a shame which must be borne for Mida’s sake. Sooner would I have faced a slow death at the hands of enemies, yet such cleansing in honorable death was not for Jalav. Well did I know that Mida’s work was not yet done, and much shame would come to me before its completion. Heavily, I reached for the pot which Tarla had left, wishing to hurl it from me, yet knowing that such an action would bring Ceralt. Already had I been shamed before Lialt; to be shamed before Tarla as well was not to be borne.

The falum had gone down my gullet untasted and I had returned the emptied pot to the floor, when suddenly Tarla was again beside me, her arms reaching out to hold me around. For many reckid did she hold me so, I unmoving in my lack of understanding, and then she leaned from me to look me in the eye, her hand gently astroke upon my cheek.

“Ah, Jalav, I know not what might be done with you,” she sighed, a sadness now upon her. “Truly have I come to feel as a mother to you, so innocent and vulnerable are you in your savagery. When I learned that you took kindness for weakness, I grew angry at the thought, and vowed to show you no more affection that you might turn your back upon, yet how may a mother forsake her child? So hopeless did you seem at thought of Ceralt’s punishment that I could not bear it. Do not fear, I shall not send for him.”

Her words were a now-familiar jumble of confusion, yet there was that which I was able to comprehend. I pushed her arms from me and held my head high.

“I do not fear Ceralt nor his punishments,” said I, seeing surprise upon her face. “Do as you will.”

Many expressions crossed Tarla’s features, she seemingly unable to settle upon any of them. Twice her mouth opened as though she would speak, yet no words emerged to fill the silence. At last a sound escaped from her, a sound of annoyance and anger and vexation, and her fists closed tight where they lay upon her thighs.

“Never, Jalav, never have I been so sorely tempted!” said she through clenched teeth, her eyes narrowed. “Were you truly my child, I would take a harness strap to you! Will you never learn to accept the concern of others? I do not wish to call Ceralt! I wished only to reassure you in your need!”

“I have no need,” said I, understanding neither her words nor her anger. “I am a war leader, and the needs of my warriors are my only concern.”

The girl stared at me a moment, then slowly nodded her head. “I believe I begin to see,” she murmured, a thoughtful look about her. “You concern yourself only with your warriors. And what do you receive from them?”

“Obedience,” I replied, knowing not where her questions would lead. “Unquestioning obedience and loyalty to our clan, or the demand to stand with naked sword. In all things must my word be obeyed, else she who will not follow must try her skill with mine.”

“Therefore you must never know doubt or fear,” she whispered, a shudder running through her. “You must always be strong and courageous no matter the opposition you meet. And who is there who sees to your needs and frailties? Is there no one before whom you may cry out your hurt? Is there no place you may lie safe and protected?”

“A war leader has no need for these things,” I replied, again seeing tears in the large, dark eyes before me. The Tarla of old had returned, and I regretted my harshness with her.

Her head bowed low so her face might be covered by her hands, and her shoulders shook to the sobs which possessed her. I placed my arm about her shoulders, attempting to give her comfort from I knew not what. Had I erred in speaking of the duties of a war leader? I had once thought the child Tarla too young to be given such knowledge, and perhaps I had been right. To place such burdens upon one unready for them is a cruelty Midanna do not care for. Tarla cried for many reckid, clinging to me as no Midanna had ever clung to any other, and then her head raised to show me a tear-stained face.

“The pain is too great,” she sobbed, attempting to quiet herself. “I cannot bear the thought of such loneliness, such lack of-of-human feeling! Your life is ever in jeopardy, and not only from your enemies! Your own sisters stand ready to spill your blood! To never be able to show fear or hesitation—!” She shook her head violently, her eyes still upon me. “You are barely older than I, barely more than a child! It is too much to ask of a mere girl!”

“I am neither girl nor child,” I explained with a sigh, knowing my words would not soothe the girl before me. “I am Jalav, war leader of the Hosta, foremost of all the clans of Midanna. The position of war leader is not thrust upon one, it is eagerly sought by those who wish it. With my own hand did I slay she who was war leader before me, and with my own hand have I kept the honor mine alone. Do not weep for me, Tarla child. My prayers to Mida have till now been answered.”

“Till now,” she echoed, her eyes going to the chain about my ankle. “Truly do I believe that you have prayed for escape from Ceralt.” Her eyes returned to mine, and a deep pleading had filled them. “Jalav, do not seek escape from him! His love for you is deep, and he shall aid you in freeing yourself from the barren existence you now have! To rest secure in the arms of a man, to have his love as you give him yours, to have his presence banish any hurt that might ever come to you—it is your right as a woman to know these things!”

“Tarla, do not upset yourself,” I soothed, wishing I might speak to her of males and hurt. “My life and sword are pledged to Mida, a thing none may change. Ceralt knows of this, yet still he attempts to retain his hold on me, causing misery and pain all about. I am Mida’s, and may never be his.”

“Ceralt battles the gods for you?” she gasped, her mouth dropping open. “Never have I heard of so magnificent a thing! What mortal man has ever before battled the gods?”

“The matter involves but one god,” said I, “and there is hardly what one would call battle. Ceralt ignores Mida as she ignores Ceralt, and—

“To battle the gods!” breathed Tarla, hearing naught of what I had said. “Ceralt does battle with scores of gods, and shall carry you from them in triumph! Ah, Jalav, how magnificent!”

“Scores of gods?” I queried, feeling the confusion surround me again. What scores of gods might she be speaking of? So quickly did her moods change that my head spun from the effort to follow. Now the look in her eye seemed far distant and dreaming, and no longer did sadness and tears command her. She knelt before me, in some manner enthralled, yet I knew not what she was about. Clearly, my first thought had been truest, and Tarla had, by some means, been bereft of her senses. Abruptly, her mind returned from whence it had journeyed, and again shining-bright eyes were upon me.

“Now must we truly see to your appearance,” said she in a firm tone, rising with the pot which had contained falum. “Should a man battle the gods for his woman, it is unthinkable that the woman be dirty and unkempt before him.”

Brusquely, she took the pot to cleanse it in a bucket of water which stood not far from the fire, never seeing the manner in which I gazed upon her. I had met few city females in the lands of males, yet somehow they all seemed odd in some manner. Even Inala, in her anxiety to belong to Galiose, the High Seat of Ranistard, was not like warriors of the Midanna. In no manner was I able to fathom their actions, yet they seemed well made as companions to males. It is said among Midanna that like cleaves unto like; city males and females prove the saying sound.

With the pot returned to its place, Tarla came to stand before me again, her gaze thoughtful. I leaned back upon the lenga pelt, showing no concern, yet I felt a wariness as to what would next come to mind with her. Those who are bereft are not like other folk, and one does well to be on one’s guard with them. The coolness of the air made the thought of the covering pelt a welcome one, yet the chain about my ankle was hobble enough. Should the need for rapid movement arise, I would not care to have the added restraint of the pelt to overcome.

“Your hair we may brush,” murmured Tarla, a finger to her lips, “yet what may be done about bathing? The cleansing halyar is even now being readied, yet the chain remains fast about your ankle. The baths may not be brought here, and we may not go to them. I shall have to speak to Lialt, and obtain the key to your fetters. There is no other course of action possible.”

The rapid decision was accompanied by a firm nod, and then the female fetched the brush and comb with which to see to my hair. I had not thought that obtaining the key to my fetters from Lialt was at all possible, yet there are indeed some matters which the bereft may see to more easily than those of sound mind. Should my release be one of these matters, I would seek no basis for disagreeing with the outcome. At Tarla’s direction, I again sat straight, and we two worked at freeing the snarls and tangles which had settled in my hair.

The matter of my hair combing was nearly done when the door flew open with a rush of wind, admitting Lialt. He hastened within and shut the door, yet the wet and cold which accompanied him caused a shiver all through me. Tarla quickly took up the lenga pelt and threw it about me, yet the reason for her action was not clear. Her eyes had been upon Lialt’s entrance rather than my shivering, and the closing of the door left the dwelling no colder than it had been before the male’s arrival. I pulled the pelt somewhat down from my face as I spat out lenga hairs, and judiciously chose not to pursue the matter.

Lialt, too, wore furs about his upper body, and he, too, shook the wetness from them before placing them beside Tarla’s upon the wall. He then strode to the fire, leaving large, wet tracks behind him on the floor, and held his hands to the warmth with a contented sigh.

“This fire would be worth the fighting for,” said he, his back to us. “Winter comes too rapidly upon us, yet we may give thanks that sleet falls rather than snow.”

Tarla, who had again put the wooden comb to my hair, made a vague sound of agreement, then moved a bit where she knelt.

“Lialt, I shall soon require the key to Jalav’s fetter,” said she from behind me, the comb not ceasing in its movement. “I find it necessary to free her.”

Lialt snorted where he stood, and turned to face us. “The necessity for such an action escapes me,” said he, his tone dry. “The fetter shall stay as it is so that Jalav does not do the same. ”

The comb was abruptly gone from my hair, and Tarla rose to her feet to approach Lialt. The male stood within the glow of the fire, his arms folded upon his chest, tall and broad in his leathers and fur leg wrappings, the silver of his belt atwinkle in the dimness, the dark shape of a sheathed dagger at his right hip. Tarla, barefoot, in her knee-length leather garment, seemed tiny before him, yet there was no fear in the hand which reached out to touch his folded arms.

“Lialt, she must be freed,” said Tarla softly, her face raised to the male. “I know not how long it has been since her last bathing; in truth it matters not. Is Ceralt to throw his claiming leather about a woman who has not been properly prepared for him? The lowliest of his riders would not accept such a thing. Must he?”

Lialt made no immediate answer, but stood looking down upon the female before him, her hand yet upon his arm. The fire crackled in the silence, going about its business of consuming the wood in its embrace, and the rock-hard rain threw itself against the walls of the dwelling, mindlessly attempting entry.

At last Lialt stirred, and a tender smile touched his lips as his hand reached out to stroke Tarla’s hair.

“Tarla mine,” said he, most gently, “your constant concern for those about you has never failed to touch me. My brother shall not lack that which is due him, for this you have my word. When the other wenches have quitted the cleansing halyar, Jalav may then visit there. Ceralt would wish to give her no opportunity to lose herself amid the confusion of many wenches beautifying themselves.”

“But, Lialt, that will leave no time for all of the small things which should be done!” Tarla protested, stepping closer to the male. “The rain of flower essence, the mists of softening, the dance of desire . . .!”

“There will be desire aplenty on the part of Ceralt,” laughed Lialt, interrupting Tarla’s words. “Jalav is hardly a village wench whose fear of a man must be lessened. It will do her no harm to know a man’s full strength with undulled senses, and it may do her good. Now, heat a pot of rangi for me, so the chill may be chased from my bones.”

“Yes, Lialt,” said Tarla, a heaviness in her voice as she moved past the male to the fire. She, a village slave-woman, would not object further, for a male had put his will upon her. I made a sound of disgust and turned from them, seeking the comb so that I might see to my own hair. Tarla dared not be other than slave-woman to Lialt, and I, myself, had been bereft to believe that I might be unchained through her efforts. I remained a prisoner to males who must free herself, for my warriors were far behind me in their own imprisonment.

The fey was long and chafing, nearly driving me mad with triple confinement. The linked chain upon my ankle allowed no movement from the lenga pelt, and even had I been free of the chain, the frenzied rain beat ceaselessly from without, warning all who heard it of its savagery. Again, had I been free of the chain and uncaring of the strength of the cold, unnatural rain, still would I have been unable to leave the confines of the dwelling. Tarla had questioned Lialt upon the whereabouts of my covering and leg-furs—she, unlike me, having noticed their disappearance—and Lialt had replied that they lay in Ceralt’s possession, a further assurance that the cold, if not the chain, would keep Jalav from the woods of freedom. Hearing such a thing had caused me to hurl the wooden comb from me in fury, wishing Ceralt’s head might be that which was struck rather than the wall. Lialt laughed at my fury, he having taken seat upon a lenga pelt which had been spread not far from the fire, yet Tarla had lowered her head in upset, keeping her eyes from me. She had not again approached me since Lialt’s entrance, a thing which surprised me not at all. The male, helpless, like all males, required her service, and she, true slave, could not refuse.

Through most of the fey, Lialt drank pot after pot of that which he had called rangi. Deep black was the liquid, served with steam curling from the heated body of it, its aroma filling the dwelling with a strength difficult to conceive of. My nose wrinkled with the first onslaught of its presence, yet Lialt took it eagerly to him, sipping with a great deal of pleasure. At first, I had thought the drink somewhat like daru or renth, yet there was no hint of fermentation in its smell, and Tarla, too, sipped at a pot of the liquid, her pursed lips blowing cooling breath on the roiling steam. None of the liquid was offered me till Lialt saw my eyes upon him, then he rose from his place and came to hold his pot out before me. I wished none of the offerings of males, yet curiosity held me too firmly in its grip for me to spurn the offer. The aroma coming from the pot seemed to beckon to those it reached, and I wished to know the taste of the thing which drew one so. I took the pot from Lialt’s hands and put it to my lips, drawing a swallow from it into my mouth, yet nearly was I unable to down the stuff! So strong and bitter that my tongue nearly curled, the liquid burned its way to my throat and stomach, leaving no doubt as to its previous presence. I drew in a gasp of air as I coughed, and Lialt took the pot from my unresisting hands.

“What do you think of the rangi?” he asked, crouching before me so that he might peer into my face. I saw him drink from the pot as he awaited an answer, and did not allow my revulsion to show.

“The liquid is clearly made for city males,” I husked, wiping the sweat from my forehead. “A warrior does better with daru.”

“I do not know the drink,” he said, rising from his crouch, “yet it is undoubtedly more suitable for wenches. Not many women other than Tarla are able to drink rangi unless it is sweetened with wild honey. Does this daru of yours require sweetening?”

“Daru requires no sweetening,” said I, moving the lenga fur lower. The single swallow I had taken seemed to have brought the heat of the fire to all of my insides, causing the dwelling itself to seem warmer. Lialt stood before me, sipping from the pot of rangi, his gaze, for some reason, caught upon me. The dimness disallowed the clear seeing of his light eyes, yet the gaze brought me discomfort without bringing a reason for the feeling. No more than a moment did Lialt stand so, and then he shook himself and turned from me to return to his seat by the fire. Once he again sat cross-legged upon the pelt, Tarla crept to him so that he might put his arm about her. The male did so, yet there was a distraction about him which lasted for more than a hin. I cared little for Lialt’s distraction, and stretched myself out upon the lenga pelt to think about daru. I would have given much for the taste of it, yet it was not to be found in the land of males. Such a thing was wise of daru, a wisdom I would gladly have shared.

The mid meal brought a cut of meat cooked by Tarla, and also brought the attention of Lialt when I left the cut where Tarla had placed it, upon its wooden board, beside my lenga pelt. The passing hind had succeeded in forcing me deep within the caves of despair, a place even Mida’s light has no power to warm. I lay upon my back, the lenga pelt covering me from waist to thighs, my right leg bent, my left leg held fast by the links of metal. It had become impossible not to feel the clasp of the metal, not to know that free movement had been denied me, not to feel a frantic, unreasoning urge to escape. I clenched my fists where they lay by my sides, fighting to keep from showing weakness before my enemies. I wished to scream and pull madly at the chain, I wished to bite and tear at any who came within reach. Almost did I also wish to bite at my own leg in order to free myself, and the taste of this need was sharp and sour in my throat. The timbers of the dwelling’s roof lay far above me, in dimness, gazing down uncaring on all beneath, and then Lialt stood above me as well, disapproval strong on his face. He spoke words to me, words which I refused to hear, and in anguish I turned from him, burying my desperate need in the pelt I lay upon. I could no longer see the dwelling, and in the darkness I had made for myself, there was somewhat of a lessening of shame for the tremors which shook me. To be free! To be free! The words rang in my ears without sound, taking all else from my perception. Even when the furs were drawn more closely about me, I knew not whose hands had done the deed. With all my strength, I begged Mida to free me from the metal, for I could not free myself, yet naught came of the aid I had begged for. Weariness came then to add weight to the despair already too heavy upon me, and at last sleep came, to conquer them all.

I awoke to a knocking upon the door of the dwelling, opening my eyes to see Lialt cross to the door. Without were two males in leather, muffled close in furs which blew with the wind. The strange, hard rain had apparently ceased, and I moved lower in my lenga pelts as Lialt took a pile of leather and fur from one of the males, spoke quiet words to them, then closed the door. Tarla stood not far from me, and it was to her that he brought what had been given him.

“You may now dress her,” said he, handing to Tarla the leather and furs. “I will wait with the others.”

He then withdrew from his silvered belt a small bit of metal, that which I had learned was a thing called a key. Use of a key releases one from the grasp of chains, and in no more than a moment the metal fell from my ankle, to torture me no more. I sat up quickly in the furs, drawing my leg to me so that I might rub it, and again found Lialt’s eyes upon me.

“So much like a hadat released from a trap,” he murmured, his dark-shadowed face without expression. He then rose from his crouch and went to the wall where his furs hung, donned them, and left the dwelling. Tarla waited till the door had closed behind him, then she knelt and placed the leather and furs upon the floor.

“There is very little time, Jalav,” said she, handing to me my leather covering. “Lialt will see you to the cleansing halyar, and thence to the meeting hall. I would accompany you if it were possible, but I would not be allowed within the hall.” Her large, dark eyes, filled with sadness, were upon my face, and then her arms were about me in a brief embrace before she knelt again as she had done previously. “This should be an occasion filled with gladness,” she whispered, brushing at her eyes. “Why must I echo your pain rather than you echo my happiness?”

So upset did the female seem that I attempted a smile as I placed my hand upon her shoulder. “There is little use in feeling the pain of others,” I informed her, yet gently. “Is it not enough that one must feel the pain? And what occasion for happiness might there be? I could well use a thing to lighten my mood.”

Tarla stared at me so long that I was able to don the covering before she spoke.

“You cannot mean you do not know,” said she, shaking her head. “It is the time we have so often spoken of, the time Ceralt has so impatiently been awaiting. This darkness you must circle before the elders, where Ceralt may drop his claiming leather upon you.”

I halted in the tightening of my garment’s ties, my hands’ motion frozen in shock. I had not escaped the confines of the village, and now the males would seek to make me as their own females were, mindless and without volition or pride. I shook my head and whispered, “No!” then rose quickly to my feet and shouted, “Never!”

Tarla gasped, the back of her hand to her mouth, but I paid her fear no mind. My eyes darted about, seeking escape from the dwelling, finding no more than the sealed windows and the door. I would not again be placed before males as a slave, a thing to be looked upon and taken. Brushing past Tarla, I made for a window, yet the door opened before I was able to reach it. Lialt and the other two males ran toward me, obviously knowing my intent, giving me no time to rip the maglessa weaving from its frame. Lialt reached me first, and my head whirled with fury and battle lust, sending my clawed hands to his eyes and face. The male shouted hoarsely, fending me off, and Tarla’s scream sounded as spur to the actions of the other males. Roughly was I taken by the arms and pulled from Lialt, one of the males treading upon my bare feet in his haste, and then my arms were fast behind me, held in the grip of those with greater strength than I. I struggled uselessly, attempting to reach flesh with my teeth, yet Lialt’s hand tangled itself in my hair, pulling my head back so that I must meet his eye.

“The time is written clearly upon the Snows, wench,” said he, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his exertions and the heat of his furs. “In order that all may survive, the hadat must bow before the strength of the lanthay. Should Ceralt fail with you, all will know a similar defeat. I do not believe Ceralt will fail. Complete her dressing.”

The last was to the males who held me, Lialt then releasing my hair so that they might obey his word. I continued to struggle, still furious, and the males cursed as they tightened the ties to my covering, forced the leg-furs upon me, and lastly put the furs about my upper body. The sweat covered me strongly as Lialt stepped forward to clasp the copper belt about my waist, and he studied me briefly before turning to a Tarla who was sunk in misery. The female wept softly as his arms circled her, and his lips touched her hair in a gesture of comfort.

“All shall soon be well, Tarla,” he murmured, stroking her back. “Her destined place is with Ceralt, and happiness shall one fey find her there. There is no longer time for her to visit the cleansing halyar, and we also could not wish the need to force her within clothing a second time. Ceralt himself shall see to her with the new light as he cannot do on the moment. Return now to your father’s halyar, and do not distress yourself further.”

At Tarla’s nod, Lialt released her and gestured to the males who held me. We then moved to leave the dwelling, Lialt going first, I being taken by the arms after him. The darkness without was a great deal colder than it had been, a thing I would not have believed possible had I not felt it in my own flesh. My breath emerged from my mouth as a cloud of white, torn immediately away by the ravening of the dagger-sharp wind. The darkness contained a palpable cold, one which entered one’s coverings at any point it might, clutching with a blue-chill hand to freeze the blood, turning the sweat upon my brow to ice. I shuddered and tried to cringe back from the awful feel of it, yet the grip upon my arms disallowed this. Further from the warmth of the dwelling was I taken, beneath the dark upon dark of a storm-cloud-filled sky, past the flicker of wind-blown torches upon the dwellings, over a thin layer of white which covered the ground and crackled as one stepped upon it. The breath was snatched from my lungs, my cheeks felt brittle and cut, my body shook to the onslaught of the elements, yet I was hurried forward by the males, they seemingly uncaring that the death of the world would soon be upon us. It then seemed impossible that warmth would ever be known again, or that anything or anyone would survive to know if it did.

The walk, seemingly a lifetime in length, led across the central ground of the village, to a very large dwelling which stood, across the span of the open place, opposite the dwellings of Ceralt and Lialt. Each dwelling of the village was lighted from within, yet this overlarge dwelling fairly blazed with light through its many windows. Tracks in the white covering upon the ground showed that many feet had approached as we did, and others came even as we reached the door and walked within, still preceded by Lialt. The dwelling was more than thrice the size of other dwellings, with two fires blazing at either end of the room, and torches set close upon the walls. Some females and many males were about, most speaking with others or walking slowly to greet those who were newly come. The heat of the place was incredible after the cold we had come through, yet I was forced to the far side of the room before the body furs and leg furs were taken from me. I was then released by the males, to stand barefoot as I rubbed life back into my cheeks and hands, while they took my furs to the dwelling’s door. They shed their own fur coverings when they had taken up positions to either side of the door, and stood with arms folded to gaze about themselves with some small interest. Had I wished to face the darkness as I was, I might have sought a window, yet even that was denied me. Lialt, his fur upon his arm, had gone to speak with others in the room, yet his words had been brief and he quickly returned to my side.

“It is soon to begin,” said he, gazing about the room. “The wenches are here, and nearly all of the riders. Ceralt and one or two others shall presently make their appearance.”

I made no response to him, instead looking about at those who occupied the dwelling. Many lenga pelts covered the floor near where the greater number of males stood, yet none sat or lay upon them. The males themselves seemed pleased and unhurried, speaking and laughing in low tones as they gazed upon the females who stood by the wall, not far from a fire.

The village females stood about together, perhaps four hands in number, huddled among themselves like herd beasts. Some seemed unconcerned over the coming ceremony, yet most appeared both anxious and frightened. They glanced covertly at the young males who studied them, and their rapid breathing bespoke their agitation. One female stood somewhat apart from the others, her hands upon her hips, her head insolently high, anger clear upon her features. It took no more than a moment to know her as Famira, the female who had set herself against me when I was yet unable to stand unaided, and my own head rose high, in pleasure at this second meeting. Perhaps the sight of Jalav would cause her to give challenge once again, and I would then be granted the gift of spilling her blood. I stepped away from Lialt then stopped where I might be seen and folded my arms beneath my life sign. To answer a challenge in this place of males would be pleasure indeed.

To my great disappointment, there was no opportunity to give or answer a challenge. Before the female Famira grew aware of my presence, a male approached the females with what appeared to be a water skin. Gently, he urged a swallow upon most of the females, then went to offer the same to Famira. My enemy tossed her head in disdain and refused the skin, whereupon the male shrugged and took himself off toward me. As he neared, Lialt stepped out before him with a hand raised and slowly shook his head. The male halted with raised brows, glanced curiously toward me, then shrugged once more and returned to the other males, from whence he had come. An elder male stepped forward, arms raised high. At sight of this male all speaking ceased, and the male looked slowly about himself.

“We have come to another occasion for choosing,” said he, his eyes first upon the females and then upon the males. “Choose gladly, young riders, for there be many desirable wenches to choose from, yet I also caution you to choose wisely. The wench you take to frolic with will one fey bear your sons and daughters. Should you be unsure, give thought to it and await the next choosing. Now, we will see the beauties who await your pleasure.”

With these words, he gestured toward the young females, near whom were now a number of males. These males gently but firmly urged the females forward, sending them toward the center of the room where they began to move in a slow circle, looking out toward the young males who also moved to surround them. The female Famira, in fury, had been forced to join the others, and then Lialt’s hand was at my back. With a great shove, I was thrust forward into the midst of the circlers, and the males laughed as the outer circle of those surrounding us closed tight. I stood angrily amidst the moving females, forcing them to walk around me, refusing to give heed to the shouts of, “Circle with the others, wench!” and, “Let us see you move!” Again I folded my arms beneath my life sign and held my head high, showing that a war leader of the Hosta feared none of them. The small village females stumbled about me in their circling, urged on by the calls of the males, and even the haughty Famira moved so, obviously fearing what would come to her should she halt without permission. Her gaze touched mine and hatred flashed in those large, dark eyes, yet the hatred was not meant as mine alone. The female felt hatred for all those about her, and well was I able to share the feeling. I, too, stared about at the laughing, shouting males, seeing hunger in the eyes of many, also seeing great hatred upon the face of him called uncle, who stood behind the ring of younger males. His gaze went from Famira to me, bitterness filling his eyes and clenching his jaw muscles, yet no word of objection or intervention came from him. I knew not what ailed the male, yet it was of little moment beside my own towering anger.

The bright-lit room was close despite its size, filled with smells one might easily identify. The smell of fear clung thickly to the females, each as barefoot as I, each, perhaps, receiving the need-smell of the males, for they circled more and more tightly, attempting to take themselves from the watching, laughing males. The torches burned the air acrid from pitch, the fires added a pungent crackling, my own body added the odor of sweat, and behind all, very faint, was a sharp, spicy odor I thought I knew. My nostrils flared wide, attempting to catch more of the elusive odor, yet the body smells of male and female grew too heavy to penetrate. A number of the females now moved strangely in their circling, their bodies relaxed and free from fear. They slowly stepped wide and whirled about, their arms moving up and out, then toward the males, and murmurs of appreciation arose from the watchers. Much did this movement seem to bring pleasure, and more and more of the females joined those who had already begun. A sound, high and wild, had begun somewhere behind the standing males, a thumping accompanying it, and the females seemed to catch the sounds and move with them, each moving in her own way, yet also moving with the sounds.

Then all whirled around and about save Famira and myself, I standing as I had been, she stopped on the far side of the circle, her fists clenched, her body bent forward. Sweat shone on the face of her, and she searched the features of those males who stood about as though desperately seeking a particular one. More and more tightly was her body held as she searched from face to face, and then that occurred which took my attention from her. From the corner of my eye, I saw a leather rope flash out, falling about the body of a female who whirled with her arms high above her head. The rope tightened, halting the female in her whirling, and then was she drawn toward the male who had thrown the rope. Rapidly, her chest rose and fell, her eyes unstraying from the face of the male before her, he grinning slightly, then slowly laughing aloud as she attempted to resist the pull of the leather. Hand over hand, with little or no effort, the male drew her toward him, and when she was within his arms, he lifted her from the floor and carried her away, her own arms tight about the neck of him. The circle closed about the place he had left, and other ropes flashed out to fall about others of the whirling females.

Nearly two hands of females had been taken from the circling, moving throng, when a scream rang out, stopping laughter and movement alike. My hand aching for the presence of a sword, I sent my eyes about, searching for the source of the scream, and found that the female Famira had gotten herself well within the confines of a rope. The leather lay tight about her arms and body, yet she struggled wildly, attempting to free herself. The male who had thrown the leather laughed at her struggles and slowly, slowly, drew her to him, causing her to throw back her head and scream again and again. The screams continued till she was no more than three paces from the male, then she frantically raised her arms as best she could, and held to the leather which drew her forward.

“No, Cimilan, no!” she begged, her face drawn with fear. “Choose another from the circle as your woman, not I!”

The male, as large and as broad as Ceralt, laughed well at the pleading female. “But it is you I have always wanted, Famira,” he said, strong teeth showing in his dark face. “It was you, was it not, who laughed in ridicule when I first attempted to smile upon you? It was you, was it not, who boasted that a better man than I would draw you from the circle? Did you not scorn my very presence, saying that you were far too good for one such as I? Where is your superior suitor now, Famira? Why does he not come forward to challenge my claim?”

The frightened female did no more than shake her head, attempting to deny, not his words, but his intent. Surely she knew that the male would soon take his vengeance upon her, yet still she attempted to deny the consequences of her past actions. Briefly my thoughts touched Fayan, sister warrior to me in happier feyd, and I wondered how she had fared at the hands of Nidisar. So far away were the Hosta, so far from their war leader and their home lands. The constant ache in me throbbed with the thought, an unhealed wound which seemed destined to fester forever.

And then another rope flew, one which came from my right and settled about me in the same way that Famira had been taken, pinning my arms to my sides. I snapped my head about and saw Balinod, the male of the lanthay enclosure, his fist tight upon the leather, a laugh strong upon his face. Many another male laughed as well, for they saw me as naught save one like Famira, yet I was no empty-headed village slave-woman. Jalav herself had taken many wild mounts with tightened leather, and knew well enough that the leather remained tightened only with the pull of resistance. As quickly as thought, I jumped toward the male, bringing my arms out and away from my body, loosening the loop about me, and finally throwing it off. The male Balinod was caught unawares, and his frantic, over-late pull brought him naught save an empty loop. I returned to where I had stood to the sound of much laughter, yet the laughter was not directed toward me. Balinod, red-faced and furious, was the object of the ridicule, a thing his foolish actions had earned him well. With hands upon hips, I tossed my head to rid my face of loose-flying hair. keeping my eyes carefully upon the infuriated male who was then recoiling his leather. Should he be so foolish as to cast at me again, he would learn the true speed of a Hosta.

And then a loop dropped upon me from behind, one that closed tight upon the instant it settled. I twisted about, cursing at my inattention to any save Balinod—and saw Ceralt, his fist hard upon the leather, a wide grin splitting his face. In fury, I fought the hold of the leather, again attempting to move toward the male who had thrown at me, yet Ceralt was not like Balinod. Full alert was he to my movement, stepping back as I stepped forward, and then I saw the knots which had been placed in his leather. The knots were doubled toward their top, allowing the small loop through which the leather passed to draw tight, yet doing much to obstruct backward movement. Ceralt circled right, keeping the small loop tight against the knots, and slowly began to draw the leather through his hands. Against my will was I pulled toward him, a dragging step at a time, the edges of the leather digging into my arms through the garment I wore, my hair pinned behind me as my arms were pinned to my sides. The wood of the floor was smooth and worn, offering no foothold in aid of resistance, and Ceralt loomed closer and closer, his light eyes triumphant and very, very pleased. Another step was forced upon me, and another—and then a second loop flashed past my eyes to settle below my breasts, just above Ceralt’s leather. Exclamations came from about the dwelling, male voices rose in a flurry of murmurs then died away, and Ceralt’s eyes no longer showed pleasure. Snarling anger flashed there as his gaze went past my shoulder, and he no longer drew me to him. Though I was caught between the two loops and could not turn, I had no doubt that Balinod stood behind me, his leather at last secure about me. I attempted to use the interruption to loosen myself from the loops, yet found the thing impossible as both males held fast to their lines. The warmth of the dwelling had increased tremendously, and the brightness of the torches caused an ache to the eyes.

The males and females all about drew back somewhat, allowing the elder male who had spoken earlier to step forward. This male looked with uncertainty at Ceralt, glanced past me to Balinod, then drew himself up.

“A challenge has been put forward upon the female now being drawn,” said he, his voice expressionless as his eyes nested upon me. “Let her be bound in the circle till the dispute has been settled.”

Two strange males came forward, each taking the leather from the two males who held it, and Ceralt and Balinod were free to step closer to one another. Ceralt stared at the other male, his gaze seeing naught save him, his fingers toying with the dagger at his silvered belt, his face expressionless save for a tightening of the jaw line. Balinod grinned into the face of Ceralt, insolent and uncaring in his challenge, well prepared to again make a fool of himself. His arms were folded across his chest, well away from his dagger, a stance no Midanna would have taken had she chosen to try her strength with her war leader. Once a challenge is given, the warrior in question is no longer beneath the war leader’s authority and protection, and may be struck at with full warning or no warning at all. Had Balinod been Hosta, he would have quickly lain in a pool of his own blood.

The two males who had taken the leather from Ceralt and Balinod were now beside me, the ropes held tightly in their fists, their free hands reaching for me. In anger, I fought them, yet my anger was destined to grow greater, for my strength was no match for theirs. Easily were my wrists put behind me and bound with Balinod’s leather, and then I was lowered to the smooth wooden floor so that my crossed ankles might be drawn up behind and bound with Ceralt’s leather not far from my wrists. Both loops remained about my body, allowing no freedom of movement to my limbs, and I writhed helplessly in the bonds, staring up at the males who towered over me, feeling the tightened leather cut into my flesh. I lay to the left of Ceralt and Balinod, and the position seemed to suit those who had bound me. They grunted in approval and nodded to one another, then left the emptied circle to stand with those who watched from without.

Strangely, naught had yet occurred between Ceralt and Balinod. They stood as they had, with the elder male beyond them, till all were gone from within the circle, then both looked toward the elder male, who again drew himself up.

“Should either one of you have rethought his position,” said he, his eyes upon Balinod, “that one may now end the matter by reclaiming his leather.” Neither male made answer to this statement, and the elder male nodded solemnly. “Very well,” said he. “As you each feel the need for a test of blades, you may now proceed. I may do no more than urge you to keep the laws of the Belsayah clearly in mind.”

The elder male stepped back to the ranks of those without the circle, and I frowned as I watched Ceralt and Balinod draw their daggers. What laws had the elder male meant in his speaking, and why had the two younger males awaited his permission to draw their weapons? When two warriors stand blade to blade, there is naught to concern them save who shall survive the meeting of metal. Even their war leader might deny them personal conflict only if there are enemies about. Straining at the leather, looking up at the males, confusion adding to discomfort and rage, I again wished myself elsewhere than among these males of strangeness, yet Mida either heard not or chose to disregard my plea.

Ceralt and Balinod now circled with drawn daggers, their eyes upon each other, Ceralt remaining expressionless, Balinod still possessed of his insolent grin. A moment longer they circled, then Balinod slashed toward Ceralt, trying for his middle, yet found naught save empty air for his blade to part. Ceralt had quickly moved from where he had been, and just as quickly closed again to catch the other male’s right arm with a backswing. Balinod paled as both sleeve and arm were opened, covering the edge of Ceralt’s blade with bright red, and the insolent grin was at last gone from him. He staggered briefly as pain touched him, his teeth clenched in his dark-skinned face, then managed to bring his blade up to guard himself as Ceralt tried for his left side. With the blow countered, the males again returned to circling, yet matters were no longer as they had been. Ceralt now showed a grin for the sweat upon Balinod’s brow, and Balinod’s dagger arm seemed to grow heavier and heavier for him. Much difficulty did the male have in raising it toward Ceralt, and then Ceralt moved again. Through the stream of blood flowing to the wood, Ceralt leapt upon Balinod and drove the other male backward, finally sending him flat to the floor. Balinod’s right wrist was in Ceralt’s left hand, Ceralt’s knee was deep in Balinod’s chest, and Balinod’s throat lay hard against the point of Ceralt’s dagger. Surely, I thought, the male would now pay with his life for his foolishness, yet even so simple an action was far beyond the doing of males.

“I yield!” screamed Balinod, writhing as the dagger bit into his throat. “In the name of the Serene Oneness, I yield!”

Ceralt, as was proper, seemed deaf to this plea, yet the elder male who had spoken earlier hurried from the fringes of the circle to place his hand upon Ceralt’s shoulder.

“He has yielded, High Rider,” said this male unevenly, grasping Ceralt’s shoulder. “The wench is yours, and you may now release him.”

To my great surprise, Ceralt then leaned back from Balinod, wiped his blade upon the wounded male’s leather, then sheathed his weapon and rose to his feet. He stood above the weeping Balinod, gazing down upon him, and I felt my lip curl in disgust at the doings of these males who presumed to feel superior to warriors. Never does a Midanna warrior show quarter in battle, whether the battle be one to one or involve many clans. To allow an enemy her life is to invite attack when one’s back is turned, and to spare a craven is to weaken the group as a whole. These males seemed not to know such things, else they knew and did not care. Ceralt turned abruptly from his inspection of Balinod, caught sight of my expression, and felt the sharp rebuke therein. His face darkened as he scowled, and he strode purposefully toward where I lay, then crouched down beside me.

“My actions do not have your approval?” he murmured softly, for my ears alone, his light eyes angered. I made no answer to him, for the thing was self-evident, and his anger grew even greater. He shifted quickly to one knee, reached toward me and lifted me from where I had been placed, then stood and carried me past the still-weeping Balinod into the mass of males who had watched the dispute. The male called uncle now knelt beside Balinod, attempting to stop the flow of blood from his arm, and as Ceralt passed, he sent a malicious glance toward his back. There was another one, I thought, who would not long be left among the living had there been Midanna about. To give one such as he the opportunity to do ill was foolishness indeed, yet Ceralt paid the elder male no mind. The group of males parted to allow Ceralt his way, and I was carried toward the side of the dwelling, where lay the lenga pelts I had seen earlier, yet much reduced in number. Ceralt placed me upon one of the remaining pelts, then stepped back to regard me as others of the males came to clap him on the back.

“A fine catch,” grinned one, looking down upon me. “I, too, would have taught Balinod his place had he attempted to take her from me.”

“Aye,” laughed a second, standing to Ceralt’s other side. “With one such as she, a man has no need of a fire in his halyar. ”

I writhed against my bonds in fury as all joined their laughter to that of the second male, and even Ceralt showed a grin, though his anger was still with him.

“Her fire derives too much from willfulness,” said he, his eyes yet upon me. “I shall quickly give it a new source, and teach her that which has been too long in the coming.”

He then turned from the males and walked a few steps to where a fur covering had been placed upon the wall. He took the covering and donned it, and began to turn back toward me when his eye was caught by the sight of the two drinking skins hanging upon the wall not far from him. Ceralt now gazed briefly upon the drinking skin to the right, then walked to it and took it from the wall. The males who yet stood above me guffawed loudly and elbowed one another at sight of the skin at Ceralt’s lips, and some few turned to grin down upon me with secret knowledge in their eyes. I still knew not what the skin might contain, yet it certainly seemed that its contents were not meant for my benefit.

Ceralt replaced the skin upon the wall, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then returned to where I lay and drew his dagger. One touch of the blade freed my legs from their cramped position, yet did not remove the leather from about my ankles. Ceralt straightened my body upon the pelt, wrapped me in it, then threw me easily to his shoulder.

“I bid you all a good rest this darkness,” he called cheerfully to the other males as he carried me to the door. Bound and wrapped in a lenga pelt was I, upon the shoulder of a male, seeing naught of where I went save the backs of Ceralt’s leg furs as he crunched upon the thin white ground covering. Ceralt had me, and what befell me next would be entirely of his choosing.

The fire in my dwelling seemed bright when we entered, so bright that I averted my eyes when Ceralt turned to close the door behind him. He turned again to continue into the room, and I saw that he had pulled the leather through the door hole, leaving it to hang within the dwelling. Now none might enter the dwelling from without save by the actions of one within, although the chill we had left in the darkness entered somehow to touch me deep. I recalled the Ceralt of old, considered what he had come to be, and again attempted futile efforts to free myself. I did not wish to be with him. yet as he had said, my wishes were of no consideration.

Without ceremony, I and the lenga pelt about me were dropped to the pelt I had slept and lain upon so long. Ceralt pulled the covering ends of pelt from me, then removed the copper belt from my waist before turning away. I lay upon my back, my bound wrists beneath me, my ankles crossed and tied as they had been, the crackling fire throwing shadows everywhere I looked. Never might one feel so helpless as when one is bound tight and weaponless, awaiting that which Mida has seen fit to send. Over and again does Mida test her warriors, and often does she send punishment to those who displease her. Much had I displeased her of late, and, if I were not faced with punishment, then testing was to be my lot. I threw my head from side to side, breathing heavily, yet there was no escape from the misery which held me.

Ceralt I found in the midst of removing his coverings, leaving naught save his leather breech. The breech, too, was quickly removed, and when he had tossed it from him, truly did I wish to gasp at sight of him, for never had I seen his manhood so enlarged nor so enraged. The male hungered furiously for the use of Jalav, and nearly did I miss the sight of the dagger in his hand and the strange glint in his eye. When he saw my gaze upon him, he smiled faintly, and moved to stand over me where I lay.

“Your disapproval of my actions is no longer evident,” said he from his height, free hand caressing the blade he held. “Have you come to change your opinion, or are you merely concerned with other matters?”

The softness of his tone disturbed me, as did the flashing of the firelight from the blade in his hand. I wet dry lips with an anxious tongue, and made no attempt at response.

“Your sharp tongue seems stilled,” he mused, crouching down to stroke my hair. I shivered at the touch and attempted to shake his hand away, but he held my head still. “No, Jalav,” he denied, tightening his grip till my neck felt close to snapping and tears stood out in my eyes. “You are now lawfully mine, and may not deny me. So you feel I showed weakness in not slaying Balinod, do you? Had it been you, would your dagger have drunk from his throat?”

He crouched above me, his fist in my hair, his broad, strong body menacing, his eyes demanding a response. My breath came and went quickly, shaking me, and never had I felt so before another living being. It was my will to give him no answer to his demands, yet my voice, of its own volition, whispered, “Yes!”

“So you would have killed him,” he nodded, his grip loosening somewhat. “A savage has no mercy within her to bestow upon another, yet a man deals with others as he sees fit. To Balinod, a man, I chose to show mercy, yet you, wench, shall have none of it. You are not a man.”

His hand, holding the dagger, moved to my throat, and I felt the cold, sharp edge of it upon my flesh. My hands and feet, bound tightly in leather, were numb, and a similar numbness touched the rest of me, shocked that Ceralt would act so. I had never thought the male capable of such a deed, and the light touch of his breath upon my face cooled the sweat which covered my brow. A long moment he remained unmoving, during which time I held firmly to the memory that my life sign still hung about my neck, and then he grinned and moved downward with the blade, severing the leather tie at the top of my garment.

“I had not really expected you to beg for your life as Balinod did,” he said softly, removing his fist from my hair. “Had you done so, I would have been disappointed, yet there are other things which touch you more deeply than a threat to your life.”

His grin widened as he said this, yet I knew not which things he meant. A great relief had come with the removal of the blade, for it is deemed a deep shame for a warrior to die so, bound at the feet of a male, without the glory of battle. I had been prepared for the journey to Mida’s realm, yet I was greatly pleased that I need not arrive there in shame. Ceralt moved his blade first to one side of my garment then to the other, and with the final passage of the blade, my garment hung loosely upon me, having been cut at the points where the ties had bound it closed. Though I knew not what he was about, the grin was strong upon him, the gleam in his eyes now pleased. Ceralt took hold of the severed garment still upon me and continued to pull and tug at it till it was free of my body and he was able to cast it from him. I then sat up, struggling to remove my hair from before my face so that I might see what was about me, yet the seeing was no comfort. The male had placed himself upon the pelt beside me, the dagger no longer in his grasp, the sword of his body nearly quivering in its eagerness to plunge deep. It was my will to have naught further to do with this male Ceralt, yet it had been so long since I had last taken a male, and my body recalled the pleasure he was able to give. The moisture flowed from within me as I smelled the strong smell of a male in need, the familiar smell of Ceralt, the smell of my own desire, yet I attempted to deny the urgings thus brought upon me, and began to move from the side of the male. He, however, liked not such movement, and quickly grasped my arms to draw me close.

“You seem reluctant,” he murmured, pressing me so close to the hair of his broad chest that I could taste him. Strong was the taste of Ceralt, full and hard as the manhood which thrust against my thigh. I moved in his arms to escape the embrace, yet his strength was, as ever, too great to overcome.

“I do not desire you,” I whispered, my hands upon his deeply muscled arms. “Release me at once so that I may complete Mida’s work.”

He laughed softly and stroked my side from breast to buttocks. “You have already completed all that you shall ever do for your Mida,” said he. “You are now in my service, and shall remain there till I release you. And I shall not release you.” His hand then darted to my tightly clenched thighs, forced its way between them, and found the moisture I had wished to keep hidden. He laughed at my moan of misery, and touched me deep as he had so often done before. My body writhed well at his touch, and I felt the slickness of sweat on all of my face as the flames rose to roaring within me.

“For one who does not desire me,” he murmured, “you seem well prepared for my arrival. Is it possible that you would dare to lie to me?”

I raised tortured eyes to his face, and saw the faint grin upon it, the dark, unruly lock of hair upon his brow, the deep hunger in his light eyes. Again I shuddered to the questing of his touch, and dug my fingers deep within his arms.

“Perhaps you do not lie,” he continued, lowering his lips to my shoulder. “Perhaps you are merely unknowing of your desire, and need only be shown.”

And then his lips took mine, hungrily crushing the breath from me as he sought my soul. What little resistance had been left to me was then gone, taken by his strength, leaving naught save the weakness which his presence brought. Deeply was I lost to his embrace, my lips responding to his, my thighs clenched about his hand, my breasts pressed into his chest. I felt his nearness with all of my body, the heat within me crying out to be quenched by him, demanding it, begging it. I moved wildly in his arms, no longer in possession of my will, and he, with a laugh, thrust me to my back upon the fur. I opened my thighs wide, welcoming his presence, and when he thrust within me, I cried out in ecstasy, closing my eyes so that I might feel his strength with every part of me. As from a distance, I felt his hands about my wrists, forcing my arms above my head, and then his lips were upon my breast, bringing screams to my throat with the nipping of his teeth. In madness, I threw my hips against his thrusts, seeking to bury him deeper within me, and knew not that one of his hands had left my wrists till that hand held to my hips, stilling my movement. I screamed in fury, trying to wrench loose, and then his manhood withdrew from me, poised at the entrance to my inner being, no more than a finger’s width within. My fury turned instantly to deep fear, and I whimpered and trembled, unwilling to face the possibility that he might leave me so, aflame in every fiber of my being, my need rising up to choke the breath from me. My eyes opened to the sight of his shadowy form above me, he crouched unmoving as he gazed down upon me, my wrists yet held by one of his hands, his other hand firmly at my hip. Again I whimpered and moved in his grip, and his light eyes, catching the flicker of the fire, glowed strangely in the darkness of his face.

“Jalav,” he whispered, leaning forward slightly, “tell me now whether or not you desire my use. I would hear the words from you.”

My mouth no longer had spittle to wet it, yet I could not have held back the words to save my soul. “I desire your use, Ceralt,” I whimpered, looking up at him entreatingly. “I ask your use. I beg it!”

He laughed softly, and moved against me enough to set me moaning. “Poor Jalav,” he whispered, leaning down farther to blow upon the spears my breasts had become. “Again does Ceralt force her to beg her use, as though she were no more than a wench beneath a man. Tell me what you are, Jalav.”

I attempted to swallow dryness as my body shook to his breath upon it, knowing what answer he sought. Within me a scream of rage began, yet I blurted out, “I am a wench beneath a—a man, Ceralt! Do not leave me unused!”

“Calm yourself, Jalav,” he chuckled, attempting to sound soothing. “You have now learned what your place in this world is, but you do not yet believe it. Should I continue to use you, the end of your use will again bring you to your former state. Perhaps it would be best if I made no use of you at all.”

“No!” I screamed as he withdrew even farther from me. My limbs trembled uncontrollably, my head flew from side to side, and my need was a crippling, demanding thing, impossible to refuse. “Ceralt, do not leave me so!” I begged, tears coming to my eyes. “The agony is unbearable! I will be anything you wish!”

“You will be no more than a wench beneath me?” he demanded, his hand tightening about my wrists.

“Yes!” I wept, throwing myself about. “I will be that to you,”

“You will be a full woman to me?” he demanded, presenting himself again to my desire and thrusting a short way within.

“Yes!” I screamed, the ache in my thighs too great to think upon. I babbled then, caring naught for what I said so long as he returned to ease me.

“You will obey my every command’?” he demanded, withdrawing again. “Swear that you will obey me!”

“I swear!” I screamed, demented beyond knowing ought save my need. “By Mida do I so swear!” I wept. “Return to me, Ceralt! Do not leave me so!”

“You shall not be left so!” his laughter boomed out, pleasure and triumph strong in its sound. “My own hunger need no longer be contained, and now that I have what I wish from you, I shall also have your body. I, too, swear, Jalav, that you shall always recall the use you so ardently begged for.”

And then he thrust deeply within me, so deep that I screamed again to the feel of it. Never before had he used me so fiercely as he did that darkness, and as I was swept away before his hunger, I knew I would truly never forget it.