An Oath to Mida

9 The sharing of falum—and a place is found

The dwelling was chilled and dark in the gray of the new light, and I found that I had no desire to move from the warmth of the place I had been given in Ceralt’s arms. No fire leapt in the hearth to send forth its warmth, and briefly I thought upon the fact that a fire had ever before greeted me upon awakening in that village. Then I recalled that none could have entered to build such a fire, for Ceralt had seen to our solitude the darkness before. I lay wrapped in his arms, my cheek against the coarse hairs of his chest, my body pressed to his, the slow rhythm of his breathing attempting to force itself upon my own. I did not move where I lay, for an unaccustomed soreness was upon me, a result of the fierceness of Ceralt’s use. Over and again had he used me through the darkness, at times upon my back, his lips to my throat, at times upon my belly, my hips raised to the fury of his thrusts. At no time had his manhood flagged, a thing most astonishing, and not till the new light lay no more than a few hind away did he allow me rest from the pummeling. I had then been taken by an exhausted sleep, knowing no more till my eyes had opened a scant few reckid earlier. I sighed softly and moved my tongue to the dark hairs that lay beside my cheek, licking at them lightly so as not to awaken Ceralt. Never before had a male used me so, giving such pleasure through uncompromising demands. Solely at his bidding had I been allowed to move, no actions of my own devising being permitted. At first I had raged and attempted to defy him, yet his presence within me had brooked no defiance. He made his demands and saw them obeyed, and I had wept and cried out with the depth of my pleasure. Such thoughts of his doings awakened my body, the moisture again beginning to flow, soothing the soreness his actions had caused. I little regretted the soreness, deeming it a small inconvenience for the glories of the darkness, and found that my belly rubbed against Ceralt’s without my volition. I stilled my hips, thinking it possible that I might be clad and away before his awakening, yet such proved impossible. Ceralt’s hand moved upon my back as his breathing altered, and I then knew him to be awake. His other hand came to my face and raised it, and his lips met mine with a softness which had not been present during the darkness. I drank in the softness with a different sort of pleasure, one that contained neither heat nor excitement, merely a soothing pleasure stemming from I knew not what. His lips remained upon mine some few reckid, and then his head raised so that he might look upon me.

“The darkness has ended, little savage,” he said softly. “How did you find it?”

“Like no other,” I replied, running my hand down his firm, hard belly to what lay beneath. “Ceralt is a male without equal, fit for none save a warrior.”

The laughter of his pleasure sounded even as his manhood stirred beneath my fingers. “Such is not the reply of a well-bred village wench,” he chuckled, striking me smartly upon the bottom. “Such a wench would bewail the tortures she had gone through, begging the Serene Oneness to spare her from such use again. You do not see the matter in such a light?”

I stiffened in anger at being struck so, and also at the mockery in his tone. “Tortures are to be avenged, not bewailed,” I informed him, drawing away as far as possible. “And your words hold no meaning for me, as it was pleasure I felt, not torture. ”

“There, you have done it again,” he laughed, paying no heed to my stiffness. “Such immodesty is unbecoming in a good wench, and we must school you in the matter. Do you wish my riders and their wenches to think you a pavilion-she—a mere varaina?”

His humor grated as did the term varaina, which was unfamiliar to me. “I do not know the word!” I snapped, truly annoyed. “Nor do I comprehend the nature of a—a pavilion-she! I am a warrior of Mida, a war leader, not a denizen of villages and cities!”

My opinion of the places of males came through clearly in my tone, and Ceralt grinned faintly as his hand went again to my face.

“You are a what?” he asked, his voice soft yet filled with that which I could not define. “Surely I could not have heard what I thought I heard.”

His face was mainly in shadow, his voice was not menacing, yet the words he spoke were somehow disturbing. With uneasy awareness of his hand upon my face and his arm about me, I replied, “I am a warrior of Mida. Ceralt has known this since first we met.”

“Since first we met,” he echoed, the strangeness yet within his voice. “And from the moment I first laid eyes upon you, I vowed that one fey you would be mine, not as a warrior, but as a woman. My woman. That fey has now come to pass.”

No further trace of the grin was upon him, and his hand had tightened where it held my face. I moved in discomfort against his grip, finding instead that his reawakened manhood sought me also where I lay against his body. So large was this Ceralt, and lately so strange, that Mida herself might have hesitated before him. I knew not what his intent might be, yet it seemed one with the chill of the air and the gray of the fire’s ashes.

“Ceralt has ever known that Jalav is Mida’s,” I whispered, my hands to his broad, bare chest. “Though once I might have wished it otherwise, I can never be yours. Do not fault me for that which is beyond my power to alter, Ceralt. I am chosen by Mida to serve her, and must do so till the sweet earth drinks of my blood. Such are the ways of Midanna.”

“No longer are you of the Midanna!” he snarled, so like a child of the wild that my hand grasped frantically for a weapon. No weapon came to me, and I shivered, held there so near to him. “Now have you been chosen by me,” he rasped. “Your service mine alone! By Mida you vowed that you would be full woman to me, that you would obey me in all things, and so it shall be! Do you recall the vow, woman? Do you?”

He shook me now, by the face and the arm, so savagely that my neck and shoulder ached to the clenching of his fingers. Wildly, I pulled at his hand, attempting to free myself from it, all the while refusing to hear the import of his words.

“No.” I moaned, unable to counter his strength, a vast emptiness spreading within me. “I could not have vowed such a thing! You lie! You lie!”

“Do I?” he demanded, the lightening of the fey spreading within the windows to show me the coldness in his eyes. “Do I lie, Jalav? Are you to be forsworn?”

“Never!” I screamed, throwing myself at him in a frenzy. “Sooner the final death than to be forsworn!” Madly I clawed at him, raking furrows in his arms and chest, my body twisting upon the furs so that I might have greater purchase in my attack. I wished to destroy him then, to send him to Mida’s chains or the great darkness, to still his tongue so that it might never speak again. My chest heaved and ached with the madness of my efforts, yet his strength kept my claws from his eyes, my teeth from his throat. His hands captured mine and his body fell upon me, forcing away what little air I had. I threw my head to one side, away from him, squeezing my eyes shut so that I need not look upon him. Deeply I gasped for air that would not come, my wrists held prisoner between his hands, my body caught beneath the weight of his, my agony too horrible to bear. I had made the vows he had said I had made, faintly yet clearly I recalled the act, yet I could not accept the results of the vows upon my lifeshadow. When a warrior stood in her true self before the Midanna who had gone before, all actions of her lifeshadow lay open to their view. To think how such vows would be seen by them! Rightly would they condemn such a one to eternal solitude, never to join Mida’s everlasting legions! I screamed then, feeling the tortures of my loss from the self-imposed darkness of a withered soul, cursing my body for the consequences its hungers had brought upon me. I, once a war leader of the Hosta of the Midanna, was now no longer fit to stand in the company of the lowliest of warriors, was now to be thought of as less than the least of city slave-women. My screaming grew higher and wilder, rising in waves to the dwelling’s rafters, then Ceralt’s hand struck my face hard, and again, driving the screams from my throat. I lay shaking beneath him, shattered by the enormity of what I had done, yet even so his annoyance came to me clearly.

“Jalav, cease this caterwauling,” he commanded. “I shall not allow you female hysterics over the simple fact that you have been mastered. You are mine now, and shall remain so forever. Accept it.”

Accept it. So easily did he command me, he who knew naught of honor. Bitterly I looked upon him, seeing the deep scratches upon his chest and arms which his light eyes refused to acknowledge. As ever, a lock of his dark hair fell over his brow, a clear symbol of the unruliness he demanded for himself, yet would never allow to me.

“Release me from the vows!” I rasped, breath still coming hard to me. My cheek burned where he had struck me, and my hands and wrists no longer had feeling.

“Such is not my conception of acceptance,” said he with a dryness in his tone, and then he grinned. “Know yourself defeated, my varaina, bested as surely as though you stood among your own, and nearly as savagely. Your life has not been lost to you in the living, merely in the directing, and though your restrictions shall be great, the living of it shall prove sweeter. You are now no more than a wench beneath a man, a position you will often be required to take. How stand your views upon the matter now?”

Well amused was he, this male who spoke of besting a war leader without sword in hand, he who sought vows when others sought pleasure. I moved my wrists within his hand, seeking to regain use of my fingers, recalling the time I had thought myself bested by him. Mida had appeared to me then, in a dream, and had assured me that the strength of males might never best a warrior. Only upon the point of a blade might a warrior be bested, her lifeblood sole proof of her loss of position. I had often questioned my ability to raise sword to Ceralt for the male affected me strangely, yet now, with the possibility of an eternity of solitude before me, I saw that the thing must be done.

“Jalav has never been bested,” said I, foolishly seeking to hold my head high. How might a warrior hold her head high beneath the immobilizing bulk of a Mida-forsaken male? Abandoning the attempt, I merely met Ceralt’s gaze. “Jalav has considered the matter,” I continued, “and agrees to meet the male Ceralt with swords. Should the male overcome her, she shall then be bested. Let the matter be done now.”

“So you would agree to meet me with swords,” he mused. “And from whom would you receive permission to touch a sword?”

My mouth opened to reply, yet no reply came forth. I had been about to say that a warrior needed no permission to defend her honor, yet he had not released me from my vows, and his feelings upon weapons and myself were well known to me. That his permission was necessary before I might face him with a blade was infuriating, and I writhed in frustration beneath him as he laughed.

“I see you understand the point,” he grinned, his hand moving to pat the top of my head. “Jalav must now be an obedient wench, asking Ceralt for his leave before she undertakes an action. Should Jalav truly wish a thing, she must ask politely.”

Fury rose up to tangle my tongue in its curling, blazing vapors, yet I forced myself to hiss, “Indeed, I shall ask for that which I wish! I wish to see your blood upon my blade, Ceralt! I wish to send you to Mida’s chains and an eternity of sthuvad use! Allow me but a few short reckid with sword in hand, and the matter shall be quickly seen to!”

Again my breathing had grown heavy with the heat of emotion, yet a gasp was forced from me as Ceralt’s grip tightened upon my wrists. No longer was he amused, and that strange glint shined coldly from his eyes as he leaned nearer to me.

“A man cares little for being threatened by another man,” he rasped, his voice grating with anger. “Should the one who threatens him be female, he may choose between amusement at such foolishness, and punishment for such insolence. I am not amused. ”

His hand went again to my hair, and nearly did I cry out as his fist took strong purchase therein. “Perhaps, by cause of what has previously occurred between us, you feel I fear to face you with sword in hand.” His voice, laced with contained anger, had grown very soft, so soft that my fury cooled quickly in the face of it. “Such is not the truth of the matter, yet I feel no need to present you with proof you would accept. Suffice it to say that you shall not again touch hand to sword, dagger, bow or spear for any reason, save with my express permission. You are to banish all thoughts of flight from your mind, for you travel to no place lest it be by my side. Should the fey ever come that I raise sword to a female, that female will not be you. I do not fear you, varaina, yet you may perhaps learn to fear me. Some wenches require such fear to keep them where they belong.”

That disturbing coldness did not leave his eyes as his maleness sought and found its place within me. I no longer wished the vigor of his use, yet he took me as he willed, knowing he increased the soreness he had caused and caring not. My femaleness flinched from him in vain till my body acknowledged its helpless response to his presence, and then was I soothed and lifted in his wake, to follow slave-like the demands he put to me. Well used was I by this Ceralt who ruled me, yet his anger increased with each of his thrusts till I thought he would end me with such fury. I cried out in protest, half with pleasure, half with pain, yet he chose to ignore my protest though his eyes had not left my face. He used me to the full, at last sending his seed within me an action which seemed to drain his anger as well. When he left me to lie beside me, his breathing had already begun to quiet, and with great difficulty I moved my arms to where I might see my wrists. An angry redness circled them from his unrelenting grip, and the daggertips in my fingers tingled then blazed with pain. A moment I flexed my fingers, regaining some sense of feel, and then I clumsily touched myself, wondering if Ceralt had caused me damage. Was this male ever to do me as none before him? In the past, it had ever been a warrior who took an unwilling sthuvad, never the warrior who was taken herself. I cared little for the manner of turn about; however I saw no way the distortion might be corrected. Males are strange in their doings and thoughts, and seem ever to wish the rights and privileges of warriors.

“Do you at last begin to learn the meaning of your place?” asked Ceralt from beside me. I turned my head toward him, and saw that he lay stretched upon his side, leaning upon one arm. Those light eyes noted where my fingers had gone, and my cheeks filled with heat at the grim satisfaction he showed. Surely he now thought me bested, for he had taken his pleasure with me above my protests. I had no wish to see the matter so, yet his gaze was difficult to meet. I turned to my left, away from him, bringing my hands to my middle and drawing my knees up, suddenly feeling the lack of the lenga pelt upon me. The dwelling was cold in the gray of the new light, and the dampness of my flesh drew the cold as an unprotected infant kan would draw a hungry zaran. Ceralt watched me turn from him, yet he would not allow me to take my shame from his sight. His hand grasped my arm and returned me to my back, then placed itself upon my breast.

“This is the sign of a woman,” said he, stroking the breast then cupping it in his palm. “Women are smaller than men and weaker, not nearly as swift, and easy prey to men. Such things are necessary, for women are also the bearers of children, and if it were impossible for men to take the women of their choosing, our race would not survive. The lives of your clanswomen are perversions, Jalav, for they do not acknowledge this necessary difference, and waste untold numbers of precious child-bearers in bloody and senseless battle. I may not know how such a thing began, but I need not allow it to continue. I shall show you the vulnerability of a woman again and again, till the truth of the matter is known in the very bones of you. Then, perhaps, we may seek another manner of living with one another, yet the choice will be yours. I shall not change my treatment of you till you request it.”

So seriously did he gaze upon me as he spoke, and so quietly, that I knew he felt the matter one of importance, yet I could not fathom his meaning. All knew of the physical differences between male and warrior, and all knew as well that males could not bear children, yet when he spoke of waste, I could not follow his reasoning.

“Those warriors who are with child are never wasted,” I informed him, ignoring the discomfort his fingers brought. “Though some might wish to hide the presence of the quickened seed within them so as not to be denied the glories of battle, all Midanna know it their duty to bear new young warriors into the world. They then give over battle till the child is born, returning to a warrior’s life only upon placing the child with Keeper’s Attendants to raise.”

“So they then give over battle,” Ceralt snorted, removing his hand from me as he sat up and crossed his legs before him. His eyes were angry now, and he tossed his head impatiently. “And if they do not survive the last battle they have allowed themselves?” he demanded. “The child within then dies as they do! And to go even further, how many are slain before there is aught within them? There are few men to see to the women in your lands, and rarer yet is the man who is allowed to decide which of the women will bear his seed. Should a warrior woman love battle too greatly, she need only refrain from using a man to remain childless. In our lands, such a woman’s foolishness is not tolerated. If she possesses qualities which men desire, she is bred whether she wishes to be or not. Upon such a thing does survival of the race depend, and women cannot be trusted with the decision. Too many fear to bear the children of men, so the decision must be made for them.”

“Warriors do not fear males!” I hissed, beginning to sit up. “It is a warrior’s decision whether or not she will use a particular male, and there is no fear involved!”

“So say you!” he retorted, pushing me flat again. “And I say that there is deep fear within the woman who refuses to bear a man’s child! Do you fear that you will not survive, Jalav, or is the fear an entirely different one? A woman who is given a man’s child is one who has been possessed by him in her entirety, one who has been made to bow to his mastery. Should she have mastered him, he would bear her child. I think the root of your problem lies in the fact that you have never been bested in battle. You have never been taught the value of submission to those stronger than you, and such is not the way of survival.”

“I have survived!” I snapped, struggling against the hand at my throat which now held me down. “Many have come forward upon the field of battle, claiming to be stronger, yet none have been able to stand against me! Submission is for slaves, not for those who would lead!”

“And you wish to lead,” he murmured, calmly taking in my struggles beneath the strength of his hand. “There is no shame to be found in wishing to lead, yet one must first know where he is leading, else all those who follow are as doomed as the leader. You now lead blindly and to no purpose, yet perhaps the matter may be rectified.” Till then he had spoken as though to himself, yet with the final words he straightened himself and hardened his gaze upon me.

“Cease this useless motion!” he commanded, tightening his grip upon my throat. “Will you never learn the futility of testing your strength with me? I am now going to dress, but you must first be punished for your earlier insolence. Sit up and obey me as though I possessed your sworn word.”

At reminder of my vows I ceased struggling, and his hand came away from my throat. Bitterly, I raised myself to sitting upon the lenga pelt, knowing not what he would do, yet knowing that my body deserved whatever pain he brought to it. Come the leather or the lash, an unwarrior-like hunger had invited the thing, and Jalav must now face what her weakness had wrought. Truly were the ways of the Midanna wise, to allow no males among them, save through sthuvad use.

“I do not care for the manner in which you sit,” said Ceralt, studying the cross-legged position I had taken. “The posture is ungraceful, hiding the lines of a woman’s body. Place yourself upon your knees, varaina.”

I bristled at the name he again called me by, yet there was little I might do other than obey him. Brushing my hair well back from my arms, I knelt where I had formerly sat, and Ceralt nodded thoughtfully.

“Better,” he conceded, still unsatisfied. “Yet you still seem too well prepared to defend yourself. A woman must know her vulnerability before men before she may learn submission. Reach back and grasp your ankles, and do not release them.”

I wished to snarl at such direction, yet the doing would have been idle. I reached back beneath my hair which now fell about my feet, and grasped my ankles from within as I had been bidden. My hands now rested between thighs and ankles, held easily in place by my body weight as I sat upon my heels. Ceralt rose from his place to crouch before me, and his hands took my thighs and moved them widely apart.

“This position is more to my liking,” said he, a grin beginning as he gazed upon me. His body, so broad and hard, rose before me even in a crouch, and suddenly the knowledge struck me more fully than it had before. This wide-chested male, whose arms were nearly the size of my thighs, might use me whenever he wished, his former concern for my comfort no longer present. How might I, weaponless and alone, aid myself against his will? I knelt before him, my breasts thrust forward, my thighs invitingly open to his sight and touch, and a trembling prepared to claim me that I might not even draw away. In misery, my eyes sought his face, and he chuckled when our gaze met.

“You do not care for being placed so?” he asked, his hand moving to my face. “Such is a great pity, for this is the position you will take whenever I require it of you. Your insolence brought this upon you, little savage, and I would have you consider a thing: should we ever face one another with swords as you so earnestly requested, I will not take your life. I will rather take your sword from you and kneel you so before all of your wenches, and make you beg your use. They are sure to find the sight most entertaining.”

I looked upon him with great horror, my mouth falling open, yet he did no more than laugh at my plight. Those without souls have no concept of honor, yet would even a male do such a thing? Many lives had I taken in my kalod as a warrior, yet never had I so shamed another, nor even conceived of the possibility. Vile and dishonorable are the males of the cities, and I vowed within that I would never so lose myself to the touch of a male. Sooner the touch of an edge to one’s throat, and a slow beginning upon the journey to Mida’s realm.

“You now seem determined,” mused Ceralt, a grin still upon him though his light eyes glinted. “Perhaps you feel yourself able to resist me. If such is the case, look here.”

Without volition, my eyes followed his hand as it left my face and moved lower, his second hand joining the first at my breasts. He did no more than brush at them before taking my life sign into his hands, yet my skin burned hot where he had touched, as though I had been struck. He held my life sign for a moment, his thumbs rubbing at the texture of it, and then he placed it against my skin, his fingers tracing the shape of the hadat upon me. My breathing had begun to grow rapid and uneven, and I was unable to move my eyes from his hands even as my limbs began to tremble. I heard his chuckle as though from a great distance, yet watched with unusual clarity as his fingers traced a slow path from my life sign, down my belly to my thighs. My breathing now grew wilder still, yet his hands did not remain upon the tops of my thighs. To the sides they went, beginning at my knees, and then singly, slowly, began the ascent. I writhed where I knelt, unable to free my hands to stop him, knowing that even had my hands been freed, I could not have stopped him. My body cried out for him to hurry, my mind cried out for him to leave me be, yet both were overcome when my voice cried out at his touch upon my heat. My need was great then, yet the soreness he had brought upon me caused my eyes to close and my head to throw itself back in misery, wishing his touch with every fiber of my being, shrinking from his touch lest further pain attend me. I moaned and tossed my head about, shamed through the needs of my own body, then gasped as his fingers entered me to probe gently at my pain.

“Have I used you too far, little savage?” came Ceralt’s voice as I sobbed without tears at his testing. “Though it was my intention to impress you, I had not thought it possible to accomplish this. I now find myself pleased.”

I forced my eyes to look upon him, and he regarded me in turn, the glint strong in his eyes. His fingers had not left me, and I knelt before him in great need and much pain, biting back the plea that he use me and ease some part of my suffering. His fingers moved again and I stiffened with a moan, yet no more than satisfaction showed itself upon his face.

“Do you recall our first meeting, wench?” he asked, his voice so soft that I shivered. “The first fey you kept me for yourself alone, yet after that I was given over to your-warriors. Do you know the fate of a man at their hands?”

His eyes had grown so hard with memory that I knew not what he might be about. No longer could I bear his touch, and wished no more than to thrust his hand from me. I began to rise from my heels to free my hands, yet the sharpness of his tone froze me in place.

“Be still!” he snapped, an icy wildness having entered his eyes. “You may not move till I release you! I asked you, wench, do you know the fate of a man bound before savage females?”

His fingers probed so deeply now that I closed my eyes again, nearly lost between screaming need and shrieking pain. Sweat stood out all over me, causing my body to shine in his sight, yet I suddenly knew that his eyes saw another sight, one which came to me in the darkness beneath my lids.

“I was bound wrist and ankle to stakes in the ground,” said Ceralt, bitterness causing his voice to choke. “My severed clothing was then brushed aside, and I lay bare to the laughter of the females who stood about me. I fought the leather they had bound me with till my wrists and ankles were near to bleeding, yet I could not free myself, nor could I keep from swallowing too much of that Sigurr’s brew which my men had also had forced upon them. Then the females put their swords aside and crouched about me, waiting for the brew to do its evil work.”

I felt his body move upon the lenga pelt, and then his fist was tight within my hair, forcing my head even farther back, his other hand as deep within my body. I moaned aloud as he did this, not only from the pain he gave, but also from the fury of his memories. Harsh was his breathing not far from my ear, and I kept my eyes tight closed lest I look upon what welled within him and cry out from the sight.

“In no more than a matter of reckid, my body was no longer mine,” growled Ceralt, far too close to where I knelt. “I looked upon the females about me, saw their bare, impudent breasts, the softness of their bodies, and fought to reach them with my manhood. I burned, Jalav, burned as I never had before, aching with my need and nearly splitting asunder. The females laughed again, that sneering, insulting laughter piercing to my very pride, and then one of them rose from her crouch and approached me. No more than a child was she, barely nubile and with breasts too large for her frame, yet she placed her hand upon me and laughed at my efforts to reach her. I would have torn her apart in the depths of my need, yet I was unable to reach her! And then she lifted up that bit of skirting done in Hosta green and straddled me, allowing no more of my manhood within her than suited her pleasure. Slowly did she take her pleasure, slowly driving me insane, and when my stream burst forth to fill her well, she moved from it, and laughed again to see me cover myself and the ground. No release had I found in spilling my seed, instead the fire burned higher and then another took the place of the first, and then another and another till I could do no more than shout and curse and demand the surcease of death! No surcease did I find till all had used me to their will, and with the waning of the drug came a pain the likes of which I had never known. My manhood seemed a thing apart and truly aflame, and I heard the moans of my men even above my own. That, Jalav, was what I found at the hands of your females. I had thought to forgive you your savagery, excuse the necessity of that which you did, yet I now find myself unable to do so. Do you ache from my use, Jalav? Shall I tell you how pleased I am? I took no more than a single swallow of that which aids a man in impressing a stubborn woman, yet I now wish I had had access to that brew once given me at your orders. Your ache would be considerably greater.”

He released my hair with a final shake, and sharply pulled his fingers from me, leaving me to kneel untouched by anything other than what had just transpired. I shook from the venom of his narrative, from the heat risen within me, from the pain of many things, and knew naught of what occurred about me save an occasional scrape till the sound of footsteps came, approaching the door. Once there, the voice of Ceralt came again.

“Remain exactly as you are till I return, Jalav,” said he, his voice no longer uncontrolled. “When I return, you shall follow me to my halyar.”

No more than those few words did he speak, and then he was gone, the sound of the closing door preceded by a gust of colder air. I shivered more deeply at the touch of it upon my skin. My eyes remained closed to the sights of the world, yet my inner eye insisted upon viewing sights which were long past, sights which brought even greater pain upon me. Ceralt, he upon whom I could not look without a strange weakness taking me, was no longer the Ceralt I had known. That Ceralt had been strong and fine, humor warming his light eyes, concern creasing his brow beneath the lock of dark hair, a gentleness often to be found in the touch of his hand. This Ceralt had been taken by—I knew not what—and the gentleness was gone as though it had never been. Again I threw my head about and cried out in the emptiness of the dwelling. I had not known how sthuvad use would touch him, by Mida do I swear this! Why, in the name of the final glory, had it not been so before?

My head fell forward upon my chest, and my hair came about my arms to cloak before me. I shifted very slightly where I knelt, yet little ease came to feet, hands or legs. I knelt as Ceralt had left me, open and bare to the sight of any who might come, and again my heat surged so high that my head tossed about and I moaned. Why had he not used me? Why had he left me kneeling so—and why did the memory of his sthuvad use burn so within him? He was male, and what else might a male expect save sthuvad use?

No longer was I able to bear shutting out sight of the world, therefore I opened my eyes to look miserably about. The dwelling was empty save for myself upon the lenga pelt, empty and dim despite the strengthening gray light from beyond the windows. My breathing was much too rapid, yet I could not calm it. His fingers had touched me, upon belly and thighs—I screamed madly, needing to tear at myself, unable to tear at myself even though neither chain nor leather touched me. He had touched me! Ceralt, I did not know! Ceralt, do not leave me so! Ceralt! I wept and moaned, writhing as I knelt, demanding answers from untenanted air. He had not been so changed when first he had found me, when I lay near dead from Silla spears. His gentleness had then been with him, yet now it was gone and bitterness and hatred had taken its place. What other purpose might males be put to if not sthuvad use? Did all males see it as he did, was this why they fought the leather and the drug? I gazed down at my opened thighs and shook, recalling the sight of his hand there. Why had he knelt me so, commanded to remain unmoving? What else is a warrior to do with a male? Ceralt!

I know not how long I knelt there in the dwelling yet the time then seemed to be measured in feyd. Brighter and brighter grew Mida’s light, more and more numb grew my hands and legs and feet. I shivered from the lack of a fire, yet a constant moisture crept from between my thighs. My body ached as though I had been hind upon a hard, fast trail, and my head hung down, bringing my hair forward to gather about my face. A throbbing had begun within me, and I knew not how it might be made to cease. A sound at the door brought my head up sharply, for it might have been any who entered, yet my eyes met Ceralt alone, upon his return. He gazed at me closely as he closed the door, then came to stand over me where I knelt. I sent my own gaze to the stained and well-worn lenga pelt beneath my knees, to see no more of him than the tops of his fur leg-wrappings.

“It seems I have been obeyed,” said he, a satisfaction to his tone. “How has the time passed for you, varaina?”

“Slowly,” said I, attempting to recall that I had once been a war leader of the Hosta. I keenly felt the humiliation of my posture, yet even as I strove for a dignity that had been lost to me, my body felt the nearness of Ceralt and gave him his slave due. The heat he had left me with had quieted only a little, and he chuckled his amusement with renewed good humor.

“Never had I thought to see you so completely within my power,” said he, and a pile of furs and other things fell to the floor beside me with a thud as he released them. “It makes a man feel odd to have it so, yet greatly pleased. Do you yet know why you have come to such a pass, Jalav? Are you now able to see your vulnerability?”

He stood above me, awaiting an answer, and I saw little reason to withhold it from him. “Long have I known of Mida’s displeasure,” said I, refraining from raising my head. “I am either to be punished or tested, yet in any event, my trials are yours to mete out. I am abandoned by Mida’s love and helpless before you, male. Why do you not end me and have done with it?”

A moment of silence followed these words, then Ceralt crouched before me to once again take my hair in his fist. More gently than previous was my head raised so, and sight of his eyes showed a great annoyance aflicker there. The dwelling was cold without a fire to warm it, yet much warmth was brought by the mere presence of his hand upon my hair. Surely Mida’s judgment had been harsh upon me, to so enslave my body to a male. Much harm had already been caused by it; could there yet be more?

“You are the stubbornnest, most ridiculous female I have ever met!” said Ceralt, his annoyance evident in his sharpened tone. “Have I not told you that you are no longer to be concerned with this Mida nonsense? How might a fiction be displeased with you? It is my displeasure which must concern you, for it is I, and I alone, who has put you upon your knees! And what idiocy do you speak, asking why I do not end you! Would a man draw a woman from the circle of choice merely to end her? Have you no sense within this great, empty head?”

His fist shook my head by the hair, emphasizing his words, yet it was his question which was senseless, and then I recalled that it was a male with whom I dealt. The weariness returned to me, and I much regretted ever having ventured forth from Hosta lands.

“Truly, I had forgotten,” I sighed, looking past his shoulder to the darkened wood of the walls. “That males have no knowledge of Mida and her doings is understood, yet I had forgotten that through this lack of knowledge, honor is also unknown to them. Even those who had stolen Mida’s Crystals and the lives of my warriors were allowed death after their punishment. Males take captives whom they might torture forever.”

“Torture!” he snorted in derision, releasing my hair to hang his arm across his thigh. “The sole torture you feel, wench, is the pinching of your pride! Your body has been taught to know mine as its master, and this is what disturbs you. Sooner would that overweening pride of yours face death than see you knelt at a man’s feet. You battle with a woman’s needs and yearnings, attempting to deny them, yet this shall not be allowed you. You will learn to kiss your place at my feet, and also learn to beg the privilege of being placed there. This I shall see to during our journey.”

Much anger had come to me at the smugness of his insistences, yet his final words gave me pause. I watched as he stood erect and removed the fur covering of his upper body, considering where this oft-mentioned journey might take us. Danger had been spoken of by Lialt, a danger which might, perhaps, free me from the hold of this male. There was no battle within me of the sort he spoke of, no yearnings save the wish to ride free. That my body was in bondage to his was no more than the wrath of Mida, a thing to be ended should she once again allow me her work. Much did I believe this, and even the strain of my hardened nipples did not dissuade me from the view.

Ceralt put his body fur aside, then crouched again to sort among the pile of things he had but recently fetched. Within the bulk of that which seemed to be another body fur were two long leather strings, one short string, and a small, leather-covered pot which he removed, leaving the strings where they were. His uncovering of the pot showed a light pink liquid, thicker even than sword oil, yet thin enough to run slowly down the side of the pot when the male held it out toward me.

“Here,” said he, gesturing with the pot. “This will ease what soreness is upon you—till I choose to return it to you. Take the jar and see to yourself.”

I had no need to attempt movement to know the struggle which lay ahead, for my body’s numbness spoke eloquently of it. Slowly, carefully, I sought to raise myself from my heels, to release my ankles and free my hands, yet it seemed as though I was bound in place, my limbs of a weight too massive for movement. Deeply I breathed, feeling the greasy pads of sweat upon my forehead, knowing I must bring the pain to my flesh before freedom would be granted from where I knelt. Ceralt looked narrow-eyed upon my efforts, then shook his head with a sound of annoyance.

“Stubborn!” he muttered, once again displeased, then raised his hands to brush my hair back. “You know full well that you have knelt there too long to move without assistance,” he accused, “yet I hear no words from you asking my aid. Had you asked, you would have received it, just as you would have received my protection from those minions of Vistren who set upon you with daggers. Then, as now, you spoke not, and I do not care for the practice. Heed my words, woman, and mend your ways.”

I looked upon him in confusion, seeing his light-eyed annoyance and understanding none of it, yet he made no further explanations. Silently, he placed two fingers within the pot he had opened, withdrew them covered with the thick pink liquid, placed the pot upon the floor boards beside him, then held my neck with his free hand.

“We will see to one pain at a time,” said he, his voice now softened. “This must be done before your limbs are stretched. Brace yourself.”

His hand upon my neck brought further confusion, yet all was swept away when he reached toward me with the liquid. The touch of it was icy silk upon my irritated parts, an iciness I wished to draw away from, yet found myself unable to do so. He spread the liquid well about, returning his fingers to the pot from time to time, and in no more than a hand of reckid, I again writhed where I knelt, having been freed of the lesser pain and thrown completely to the mercy of the greater. Ah, Mida! How the touch of him upon my heat was agony! I moaned at the circular. movement of his fingers and a grin appeared upon his face, shortly to be joined by gentle laughter. My thighs were opened to him as he had demanded, and he pleasured himself with that which was unshielded from his touch. Then his fingers left the victim of his probings, and the pot of liquid was removed to a greater distance.

“That seems sufficient for the moment,” he murmured, putting his hands upon my arms. “Now let us see to your unwinding.”

A sudden reluctance was upon me to move, yet this reluctance did naught to keep him from placing me upon my belly in the furs. One by one he lowered my legs, releasing my hands, and I forced my face within the furs to keep from voicing the pain. It began heavy and dull, a mutter within muscles, rising from there to a flaming of the limbs, worsened by Ceralt’s briskly rubbing hands. Daggers of fire pierced me all about, bringing to mind the agony produced by use of two of Mida’s Crystals. I thrust the thought from me and clenched my teeth, at the same time drawing my arms forward. The effort needed was great, yet I could not remain unmoving, knowing naught save Ceralt’s ministrations. The male was heartless, rubbing my legs to screaming life, and I had no wish for the same to be done to my hands and arms. At last my hands were before my face, and I leaned upon my elbows so that I might flex the fingers and reaccustom them to movement. My life sign swung between my breasts in rhythm to the flexing, and I knew that I must rid myself of it, should it prove impossible to find freedom from the vows Ceralt had stolen. My life sign was the guardian of my soul, its presence an assurance that should my life be lost, my soul would find its way to Mida’s realm. With the prospect of an eternity of isolation before me, I had no wish to enter Mida’s realm. Far better that my soul seek the endless darkness, there to thin and spread till it was no more. A coldness touched me briefly, bringing a shudder, for I greatly feared the final darkness, yet fear was not to be acknowledged by a war leader. Though I was war leader no more, there was little to be gained by falling prey to fears and weaknesses. Though my soul would find no more than the final darkness, it was yet possible for my body to give up the breath of life with some modicum of dignity. Even should Mida wish no more of me, she would still expect my end to be worthy of a Midanna.

“Let me see you move your legs,” said Ceralt from behind me, leaving off the rubbing. My legs now tingled hotly, yet I knew their control was again mine. Long hind had I knelt upon the lenga pelt, yet not so long that recovery would be as long or longer. I rolled to my side and drew my legs up, reaching down to knead the back of my left thigh. Ceralt’s eyes were upon me, yet his gaze had found the spear scar upon my thigh, and his hand reached out to touch it gently, a strange tightening of his lips in evidence at sight of the ridged pinkish flesh against the darker skin of me. His fingers barely touched the scar then pulled away, and his eyes rose from my thigh to my face.

“Never again shall such a thing happen,” said he, the soft menace fully within his voice and eyes. “Above all things, heed me in this, Jalav, for if ever I find a weapon within reach of your hand, your punishment will be feyd in the doing. See if you are able to stand.”

He rose from his crouch to await my efforts, and I, with very little difficulty, also gained my feet. I wished to remind him that the wounds had come about by cause of the absence of weapons in my hand, not their presence, yet the glint in his eyes dissuaded the attempt. He wished naught of the truth, this male who looked down upon me narrow-eyed, issuing his commands as suited him, and would not hear it being spoken. I stretched myself as I stood before him, keeping the truth in my own heart, and he in his blindness seemed satisfied.

“Now that you are restored,” said he, reaching about himself to pull his leather chest covering over his head and from his arms, “you may see to repairing the damage you have done. Fetch the jar, and salve these scratches you put upon me.”

He indicated the pot of pink liquid as he tossed his leather covering aside, therefore I bent to retrieve the pot, then turned to inspect him. The tracks of clawing were deep and inflamed upon his chest and arms, also showing signs, here and there, of having bled. I glanced at his face as he stood waiting, and saw no sign of anger at my having marked him so. Indeed, he seemed serene and complacent, as though such markings were acceptable to him. Confusion, my constant companion, stirred within me, yet I quieted it with a surmise. Perhaps, to the male, the clawings were a symbol of his victory, no more than a small cost for having had his way with me. I now stood before him, having been commanded to tend to his needs, and such victory must be sweet indeed. Midanna warriors tended their own wounds when possible, or were aided by other warriors when such aid was needed. Never would a sthuvad be allowed to perform such a function, for even with males who chose to remain with Midanna after the time of their sthuvad use, the thought of vengeance for their initial capture might come. Ceralt feared no such vengeance, and my lips tightened in fury at the thought. He possessed my word to chain me to him, and knew me helpless before the male strength of him. So close was the dagger at his silvered belt, so close and tempting, yet I had been forbidden the welcome presence of its hilt within my grasp, forbidden its very nearness to me. Angrily, I reached two fingers within the pot I held, coming away with a thick coating of the liquid, yet my wrist was suddenly grasped by his hand before I might touch him.

“Gently,” he cautioned, an amusement now clear in his eyes. “I wish the scratches salved, not savaged. Let us see how near you may come to a woman’s touch.”

He released my wrist and watched closely as I spread the liquid upon the first of the clawings of his chest. It lay among the dark hairs which covered him, much like a sednet in grass, and as I spread the liquid about, I became aware of the rise and fall of the chest I tended. The wounds lay before my eyes, for Ceralt stood a full head taller than I, and I felt that he now looked down upon me rather than the doings of my fingers. I renewed the liquid and moved to another of the wounds, recalling this chest before me, and how often I had pressed my face to it, lost in the pleasures of Ceralt’s manhood. My hand trembled in the spreading, and I quickly turned to the markings of his arms, yet the Mida-forsaken remembrances would not give me peace. How often had those well-thewed arms been about me, holding me for his lips and caresses? How often had I clung to them in the throes of his body’s delights? Even through the liquid, I was able to feel the warmth and strength of his flesh, and I squeezed my thighs together to halt the flow of the moisture which ran from me, mute evidence of the male’s near presence, helpless response to the thought of him. Quickly, I finished the task he had given me, placing the pot once more upon the floor, yet when I stood straight again, I found I was not done with him. His arms went about me, pulling me to the chest I had tended, and then his lips were upon mine, taking the kiss he sought, and more as well. His silvered belt pressed into my body as his hands moved about my bare back, beneath my hair, stroking my skin and bringing forth a moan from my throat. Again was I slave to his demands, held in his arms and to his lips as though the thing were proper, as though his body had the right to own mine so. I shivered in my need and pressed against his hardness, and his lips left mine so that he might laugh.

“Is there aught you desire, varaina?” he asked, laughter in his eyes. I knew he mocked me in my weakness, yet I was unable to free myself of his chains. A warrior often has deep needs, and never before had I been so powerless to satisfy them. The strength of his arms about me, the warmth of his body—I was unable to keep the words from stumbling from me.

“Use me, Ceralt,” I whispered, my eyes begging the laughter in his. My body, uncontrollable, forced itself against his manhood, demanding release, piteously pleading for it. His arms tightened about me, holding me still against him, his amusement increasing.

“Think you I have naught to do this fey than put you to your back?” he chuckled, his hand moving to my bottom to halt the swaying of my hips. “It is nearly the time for one’s mid-fey meal, and we have not even shared falum as yet. We must now see you clad, varaina, so you may follow me to my halyar. Should your conduct of the fey please me, I shall use you for further pleasure in the darkness. Fetch your garment, Jalav, and do not speak again.”

I had been about to plead with him, debasing myself as he had previously demanded, yet his command cut short the flow of words. He released me and turned away, dismissing his own need, and I crouched where I stood, hugging my knees against the pulsing flames within me. My cheek felt the bones within my knee, my feet felt the wood of the floor beneath me, my crumbled pride felt the agony and humiliation of having been denied after lowering myself to begging. That he would do me so, I, once a war leader of the Hosta of the Midanna! Now that he had possession of me, soon there would be naught left save an endless shame, one never to be cleansed. My eyes closed tight, I moved my face against my knees, unexpectedly feeling the touch of the silver ring of a blood warrior, that which was matched upon the other side by the second silver ring of a war leader. A great fury rose up in me, fury at all things which now surrounded me, fury at that which had once meant so much to me. I put my hands to the rings, intending to tear them from my ears, and again Ceralt’s hands closed about my wrists.

“The decorations please me,” he said, forcing my hands from their grip upon the rings. “Do not touch them again, nor attempt to remove them. And you will be punished for failing to obey me. Now, fetch your garment!”

Miserably, I opened my eyes to see the anger upon him, an anger which shone from his light eyes. Decorations, he had called the rings of a warrior, demeaning them to the point of meaningless trifles; lowering them to the place he had lowered me. Never would a male end the life of a captive, for that would be savagery. Sooner would he show mercy and spare that life, preserving it so that he might make it not worth the living. Truly was mercy a thing of males, a thing far beyond the simple savageries of warriors.

Ceralt pulled me straight again, and despite my pain, I went to fetch my covering. Ceralt knew what pain I felt, long ago had he learned of my body’s demands, yet the thought no longer concerned him. Much changed had Ceralt become, and I knew not why this was so. My covering was easily straightened, yet it seemed beyond repair with the ties having been slit by Ceralt’s dagger. Ceralt directed the removal of the cut ties, then produced the strings which had lain with the pot of liquid. These strings once within the garment, made it whole once more, yet their color was somewhat lighter than the color of the old strings. Sight of them restored Ceralt’s good humor, and though I had no understanding of the significance of such a thing, it mattered not. Walking had become a difficulty, and a further annoyance plagued me. The pink liquid Ceralt had placed within me gave too greasy a feel, yet I was forbidden to touch the place in an attempt to remove it. With the covering upon me, the copper-colored belt once more around my middle, my leg and body furs, fetched from the large dwelling, again in their proper places, I miserably followed Ceralt from the dwelling. The last I saw of it was a cold and finished sight, the fireplace bereft of fire, the lenga pelts soiled and abandoned, the severed strings of my garment scattered about, all in a chill dimness of that which is not to be returned to. Now, I would dwell elsewhere, in a captivity more complete than I had yet known. Ah, Mida! How great my sins must be to have brought this about!

The fey was cold even though a thin remembrance of Mida’s warming light shone down in an attempt to scatter the chill. A small wind blew, rifling the leaves which remained upon the trees, and no longer was there a white, frozen covering upon the ground. Males and females moved about the village as I hurried to match the pace of Ceralt, who had decreed that I follow behind him, yet no further than two paces from his broad, fur-covered back. He strode across the hardened ground, not once looking to see if indeed I followed, knowing full well the manner in which I was bound to him. I looked toward the forests as I hastened in his track, feeling their call, longing desperately to flee in the direction which would return me to Hosta lands, yet I could not leave my word unreclaimed, nor could I ignore the whimperings of my body. Well bound was I to Ceralt, and only Mida might free me of his hold.

Well amused were the males of the village who saw us, and I entered Ceralt’s dwelling covered by the red of humiliation. Ceralt, who stood to one side of the door to hurry me within, showed a fine grin of amusement, knowing precisely the cause of the color in my cheeks. Much hate did I feel for the male then, he who so gloried in my debasement, he who flaunted it for the world to see. Vile were males in their multitude of ways, and I hated them all for the many things they had done to me. Mida teaches that hate is a useless emotion, for one may challenge she who would normally evoke such a feeling and end the need to feel hatred, yet was I unable to do such a thing among males. My hate of all things male grew higher the longer I moved among them, and I knew not where the thing might end. Perhaps madness awaited me in place of honorable death, yet as I drew my body fur over my head, I knew I cared not. One end now seemed as welcome as another.

“Remove your boots as well,” remarked Ceralt, taking his fur body covering to hang upon the wall. With the door closed and a fire blazing in the hearth, the dwelling was overwarm, yet he did not attempt to remove his own leg furs. I sat upon the floor to pull the furs from me, and Ceralt turned to regard me with a faint smile.

“I find great pleasure in seeing you obey without explanation,” said he, “yet this matter requires your understanding. Wenches of this village are not permitted footwear within a halyar, therefore you will remove your boots no matter whose halyar you enter. Is this clear to you?”

His eyes awaited an acknowledgment, therefore I nodded, which seemed to be sufficient. He turned from me with a grunt and walked toward the hearth, and my fists closed with impotent fury upon the leg furs I had removed. Stroke and stroke again with the lash of shame, and care naught for the miserable female beneath the lash. I began to feel pity and compassion for those females raised trapped among males, and also began to understand somewhat the why of their lack of escape attempts. Their treatment at the hands of males left little pride to which they might cling, yet Ceralt erred in thinking me of their ilk. The memories of a warrior yet stirred within me, and never would they be excised from my thoughts.

Ceralt’s dwelling was much like Lialt’s, with lenga pelts scattered about, piles of garments to one side, small platforms here and there, and thick leather strung tied across one corner, yet as I placed my fur body covering upon the wall beside Ceralt’s, I saw the weapons hung to the right of the body coverings. A large, well curved bow hung beside a sheaf of arrows, the dark, polished wood grain of it catching the light of the fire. The string was slack between the curves of its body, yet I knew a good deal of strength would be required to bend it. Beside the bow hung a sheathed sword, somewhat longer and broader than those used by Midanna and city males. The hilt of the sword was two hands in length, cast in metal and aglow with the presence of shiny stones, those which males seemed to care so greatly for. Use of the stones within the hilt seemed improper, for shiny stones had no value other than to soothe the upset of males when sthuvad use was done, yet the hilt glowed brightly above the plain, worn leather of the scabbard which held the blade. I wished to know the feel of that blade within my grasp and put my hand out to draw it from its sheath, yet my hand halted short of the hilt, bitter memory recalling my new lot. I drew my hand away again, pain from the stolen vows twisting within me, and turned to see Ceralt’s eyes upon me, a tenseness to his stance as he watched me from the hearth. No word had he spoken as my hand had approached the sword, yet surely he had seen my intent. Would he now pronounce a punishment? Would he use the twisted leather lash hung at his belt? My body wished to tremble at thought of that lash, memory of Galiose’s doing suddenly before my eyes, yet I would not allow the trembling. I took my eyes from Ceralt’s gaze and studied the fire, contemplating its serenity and seeking to share it.

“You may now prepare the falum,” said Ceralt, a softness to his tone, yet not of menace. He stood with a small sack in his hand, his eyes unaccusing, his stance now relaxed. He made no mention of what had just occurred, and I saw at last that there was little cause for mention. Completely had I obeyed him, just as he demanded, refraining even from touching fingertips to the weapon. There would be no punishment for complete obedience, no lash to fall for obeying his word, no more than the sickness deep within me, of shame and hate and freedom lost forever. I moved toward him without comment, and took the sack of dried grain.

The falum was not difficult to prepare, yet when it lay ready in its pot upon the hearth, I looked upon it with loathing. Never before had I prepared sustenance for a male, indeed, it was often that a male prepared sustenance for me, yet Ceralt sat upon a pelt not far from the fire and awaited his portion to be given him. I tossed my tangled hair free of my arms, then filled a wooden bowl for the male who had commanded slave-duty from me. The odor of the falum had returned the pangs of hunger to me, yet I would not ask to partake of the male’s provender. Perhaps Mida would smile a final time, and starvation would halt my trials.

“Fill another bowl,” said Ceralt, looking up at me as I handed the pot to him. “And fill it as full as possible.”

I knew not what the male wished to do with a second portion, yet it was possible that his hunger was great. Males have unreasonable appetites in many things, and a warrior does well to dismiss the point. I filled a second wooden pot with the cooked grain and returned to the male, yet instead of taking the pot, he gestured to the floor before him.

“Kneel there with it,” said he, sitting straighter with the pot he held. “I do not care for an unfleshed woman, and you have too long followed your own inclinations. I shall see the roundness returned to your bones, for I am not Lialt.”

I knelt as he bid me, frowning at the words he spoke. Still Mida failed to smile upon her warrior, and my frustration was great. Would naught pass the notice of this male before me? Would he leave me no means by which I might escape him? He sat cross-legged upon a lenga pelt, yet the wooden boards of the floor were my lot, immediately bringing an ache to my knees and feet. Again, I had been knelt before a male, and I cared less for it than the instance previous.

“Take this spoon,” directed Ceralt, handing to me a stick of wood which was wider at one end, and somewhat hollowed in the wideness. “With the spoon, you are to bring some falum to my lips and say, ‘As we share the grain of life together, so may we share our lives forever.’ Are you able to recall the words?”

I gazed upon him, the seriousness in his light eyes a palpable thing, and could do no more than nod my head. I knelt before him, a slave to his bidding, the heat within me scarcely bearable, and this was to be my chosen state forever? Perhaps the custom had meaning between others, yet I, from my knees, could not envision such a thing. Stiffly, and with great reluctance, I raised the falum to his lips, speaking the words without tone or inflection, wishing I might hurl the entire thing from me and run to the forests and from the sight of him. He took the falum from the bit of wood, his gaze unmoving from my face, and the taste of the grain seemed more than sweet to him. He swallowed it with great and solemn joy, then took the bit of wood from my hand.

“ ‘As we share the grain of life together,’ ” said he, dipping the wood in the pot I held, then bringing it full to my lips, “ ‘so may we share our lives forever.’ ”

I swallowed the falum, as was expected, yet the taste of it brought no sweetness to me as it had to Ceralt. The male, however, laughed softly in pleasure, and put his hand to my face.

“Now that I have made you truly mine,” said he, “we must remove the sourness from your disposition. That you do not wish to be mine is evident, yet you may not deny me. Perhaps with a hot meal within you, the sourness may be lessened.”

He then removed his hand and proceeded to offer me more of the falum, refusing to hear my demurrals. The grain in the pot was fed to me, a bit at a time, till I felt ill and near to bursting, yet the male continued on till the last of the falum had been swallowed. My mouth burned from the heat of it, and my teeth ached as well, yet every drop slid down my gullet till the pot contained no more. I was then given the bit of wood and instructed to see to Ceralt’s hunger, and the male leaned back at ease as I fed him from his own pot, his body relaxed upon the pelt, his eyes unmoving from my face. When I was finally done and the falum was no more, Ceralt stretched wide upon the pelt and grinned at me.

“It is truly pleasing having you tend to me so,” he said, then placed his hand upon my thigh beneath my garment. “Women bring greater interest to a man’s life, and the softness of their bodies is but a part of that. See to the cleansing of the bowls and cooking pot, for I would have you visit the bathing halyar this fey. Tarla shall soon arrive to show you there.”

I could not have moved from his hand of my own accord, yet when he withdrew it, I rose unsteadily to my feet and returned the bowls to the hearth. His continued satisfaction was a constant grating upon the sharp edges of my shattered former self, yet I longed for his touch even as I bitterly berated myself for such weakness. Cook this and clean that said the male to a Midanna warrior, and the witless warrior poured forth the juices of her slave-need even as she bent to his commands. There was little wonder that Mida had abandoned me, little question now as to the nature of my sins. Mida had not made my body slave to the male, but had condemned me for the stupidity of my needs, giving me over into his hands so that I might know the suffering I had brought upon myself. How such a thing had come to be I knew not, no more than how such a thing might be ended.

Tarla appeared not long after the pots had been seen to, a gentle knock announcing her presence beyond the door. Ceralt looked up from the sharpening stone he had been using upon his dagger and bid her enter, and I turned from the window through which I had been gazing. The chill of the land was no longer able to touch me, for I had covered myself with a shame which was unending. I had been taken by a male, and had not proved strong enough to withstand him.

“May Jalav now accompany me?” asked Tarla of Ceralt, a shy smile upon the prettiness of her face. She had taken no more than two steps within the dwelling, seemingly fearful to enter farther, for she had not removed her leg coverings. Ceralt looked to the edge of his dagger with a thumb, then nodded to Tarla.

“Show her the whereabouts of the bathing halyar,” said he, “and see that she makes full use of its facilities. I wish to see her hair shining again, but do not allow it to be bound.”

Tarla acknowledged Ceralt’s instructions, then waited as I replaced the needed furs. Ceralt had interest only in his dagger, and looked not once upon me as I left his dwelling. Tarla closed the door behind us, then hurried to match my stride as I walked from my new abode.

“Jalav, I am indescribably thrilled,” said she, a breathlessness to her voice. “I heard how Ceralt fought for you, then carried you away with him! How pleased I am that happiness has come to you at last!”

She sighed again as she redirected my steps to the right, and nearly did I speak to her of how I felt, yet she was so much a child and so covered with gladness, that the words hung back and could not be spoken. There were few to whom a war leader might speak, Rilas, Keeper to the sister clans of Midanna having been the sole exception I had found, yet even Rilas would spit and turn away were she to hear what I had done. Forever alone I was destined to be, and that loneliness had begun even before my final breath.

We walked to the far end of the village, away from where my dwelling had stood, till we came to a dwelling which seemed odd to the eye. Upon short legs of wood the dwelling stood, something of a pit to be seen below, and steps had been placed before it, so that the door might be reached more easily. As we climbed the steps together, I saw the crackling of a great fire beneath the dwelling, yet Tarla seemed undisturbed by it. She went directly to the door and then within, and as I entered behind her, I saw the reason for the haste with which she began removing her coverings. The tiny windowless room we stood in, no more than three paces by four, held a greater heat than Midanna lands at the height of Mida’s blessing. The walls held flames within boxes, many covering and furs lay about, and as soon as I had closed the door upon the cold without, I, too, began removing my coverings.

“The water should be well heated,” said Tarla, removing the twistings of her hair as I placed my coverings beside hers. Tarla had the body of a young girl, sweet in its budding promise, yet she colored in embarrassment when I looked upon her, and averted her gaze. “I know,” she sighed, finishing with her hair and placing her hands before her. “I am naught when compared with you, and Lialt will find great disappointment when he brings me to his furs. I have seen him looking at your body, Jalav, and for some time he has not looked only upon your wounds, yet there is little I may do; The Serene Oneness has not seen fit to grant me your largesse.”

So miserable did the child suddenly seem, that I could not bear her sorrow. Finding pleasure in the sight of males was a curse to a warrior, yet Tarla was no warrior and never would be. Deliberately I approached her, and placed my hand upon her shoulder.

“Much would I be pleased to see your face when you find yourself mistaken,” said I with something of a laugh. “The bounty you speak of has not been withheld from you, it is merely slow in the coming, and even were it to fail to come at all, there is no accounting for the tastes of males. I recall a warrior of mine, made more in the image of male than female, who yet found herself greatly surprised when a sthuvad begged to remain with her. To him, her form was more pleasing than mine, though he often looked upon me with hunger. How may one know the thoughts of a male?”

Tarla once more lifted her large, dark eyes to mine, and great hope shone clearly therein. “Do you speak truly?” she asked, her hands yet held before her. “You do not seek to give false comfort?”

“I do indeed speak truly,” I answered, refraining from saying that among Midanna, one doubted the word of another only at swordpoint. The female meant no insult, and sought only to believe that which was so difficult for her to believe. Her face again took on the glow of happiness, and her hands fell from their shielding position.

“Oh, Jalav, I do so hope you are not mistaken.” She laughed. “I wish to give Lialt naught save happiness, and now it is possible that I may do so. Let us hurry now to the bathing water, for there is much to be done with you.”

Having spoken so, she then turned to a door which led farther within the dwelling. Beyond the door lay the balance of the dwelling yet it was floored no more than halfway across. Beyond the wood of the floor was water, held within the metal of a container fully half the size of the dwelling. Flames within boxes lit the room to sufficiency, replacing the light which was not permitted through the curtained windows, and many variously colored lengths of cloth lay about upon low wooden platforms and the floor itself. The inner room contained even greater heat than the outer room, yet the numbers of females who sat about upon the platforms or wet themselves within the water, seemed to feel naught of the closeness. Many of them looked about as we entered, and some called greetings to Tarla. Tarla, in turn, returned the greetings, then led me to the edge of the flooring.

“Into the water and soak, Jalav,” said she, placing her toes so that she might test the warmth of the water. “Ceralt wishes to see you softened for his arms, and he may no longer be denied. Your softness shall surely please him more this darkness than the last once we are done with you.”

“Softness has little to do with pleasing a male,” I murmured yet Tarla heard not for I had spoken very softly. I, too, placed my toes within the water, and was not surprised to find that it had been heated in the manner of the city folk. Often had I bathed in chill forest streams, yet such a practice seemed beyond the ken of those of cities and villages. I sighed in resignation and slid within the water, finding that it rose to my breasts when I stood erect. The water moved somewhat to the motions of the others within it, yet I stood quietly by the edge of the flooring, once more obedient to Ceralt’s will.

Tarla moved about among the females on the flooring, and following her, my eyes fell upon a female who was beginning to be heavy with child. As pleased as a warrior did the female seem to be, speaking and laughing with those who sat and stood about, and the sight of her recalled Ceralt’s words to me. The male had spoken of my fear of being with child, and had also said other things equally as foolish. To a male, it might seem that the getting of a child was a sign of his mastery, yet the simple truth was that a warrior might take the seed of a male without his let, and still bear the child he had no wish to plant. In such a way did the numbers of Midanna increase, and all warriors knew that it was expected by Mida that she bear her young for the greater glory of her clan. All warriors knew this—and knew as well that a war leader was denied such glory, for she had been chosen by Mida to lead the Midanna to war. One glory replaces another, yet I had once stood above a warrior who held her new-born daughter in her arms, seeing the love my warrior had felt for the tiny life at her breast. This, knowing the fruits of my own body, had been forbidden to me with the placing of the second silver ring, and no male could know the depth of my loss. In obedience to Mida, I had forsaken the life of my life, and Ceralt had mindlessly pratted on about fear and mastery. A warrior feared only the displeasure of Mida, and that I had already found in plentitude.

It seemed more than a hin that I stood within the water, my hair growing wetter and heavier, my skin beginning to grow wrinkled and ill-fitting. I had spoken often to Tarla, explaining my discomfort and my wish to leave the water, yet the young female had maintained that Ceralt wished me to remain as I was, heeding her advice. I knew not whether that was the truth of the matter, yet were it so, Ceralt might find himself regretting the decision. I wiped the sweat from my brow and face, and thought that when Ceralt next put his arms about me, I would likely fall to pieces from so long a submersion in water.

At last Tarla entered the water as well, and moved her shoulders about to wet them before approaching me. In her hand, she carried that which appeared to be congealed fat, lumpy and thick-looking, and of a yellowish color. As she approached me, she gestured toward my hair.

“Lean your head back so that all of it may be wet, Jalav,” she directed. “I shall use this soap upon it, and then you may emerge.”

I knew not what the term “soap” might be, yet it seemed the thing city folk used in place of cleansing sand. I had little wish to become further involved with city ways, but a protest seemed not worth the effort. I wet my hair further to the satisfaction of Tarla, then allowed the placing of this soap within it. Much did the substance foam like water at the foot of a falls, yet its presence burned one’s eyes and filled one’s ears so greatly that I gave thanks to Mida when I was at last able to rinse it from me. Tarla put a cloth within reach of my hands so that I might dry my burning eyes, and the first sight which met my gaze was the departure of two of the females who had been there since before my arrival. Those two females had much and lengthily looked upon me and whispered to one another, yet neither one had approached me as I had hoped they would. They two had been with the female Famira upon the fey she had chosen to confront me, the first fey I had attempted to move about the village unaided. Much had I wished them to repeat their challenge, for I was no longer wound-weakened and strengthless, yet they had not seen fit to do so. Undoubtedly Ceralt would have been angered if I had harmed them, yet I had not been forbidden by him to do such a thing, and no longer had I patience for the failings of city slave-women. Should they wish to approach me as Tarla did, all well and good. Should they wish to approach me in challenge, however, they would find to their sorrow that chained though I was, their safety was not thereby assured.

When once the door had closed behind the two, the hum of voices rose to be tinged with low laughter, and another young female hurried over to lean down to Tarla.

“At last I may tell you of it!” said the female to Tarla, excitement and amusement both in her voice. “I wished to speak to you sooner, and came finally to believe that they would never leave!”

“Calmly, Resta, calmly,” soothed Tarla with a laugh as she squeezed the water from my hair. “What is this most important thing which you wished to tell me?”

The female Resta sat herself at the edge of the flooring, and with a hasty glance toward the newly closed door, leaned even farther toward Tarla.

“Famira was drawn from the circle last darkness!” Resta breathed, her eyes filled with laughter. “The rider who claimed her was none other than Cimilan!”

“Cimilan!” Tarla repeated in a gasp, and then she, too, was touched by faint laughter. “Of all the riders there are, he was the one she least wished to be chosen by. I believe I begin to pity her. ”

“Famira reaps no more than what she has sown,” said Resta, showing none of the pity Tarla had spoken of. “Had she been less sure that she would go to Ceralt, she would not have given Cimilan insult so often. She enjoyed parading herself before him, raising his desire as she spat upon his pride, knowing he would not give challenge to Ceralt’s claim of her. Now she wears his strings and follows him about, and continues to weep from his use of her last darkness. Challa says that Cimilan found it necessary to carry Famira here not long past the new light, so that the blood might be washed from her thighs and her pain lessened enough to allow her to walk. I have also heard it whispered that Cimilan drank of the second skin before carrying her to her father’s halyar, and her screams kept sleep from all those within hearing for the entire darkness. The high and mighty Famira is now no more than a rider’s wench, and shall strut no more among us! Cimilan’s leather shall teach her silence, and I, for one, have long awaited such silence!”

Murmurs of agreement came from all about the room, and she called Resta looked about in fierce search for such agreement. Her eyes had blazed hot when she had spoken, and the heat of her words was clearly felt. Even Tarla had agreed with a sigh, and I took my hair from her hands and threw it upon the flooring, then vaulted out of the water before the great mass of hair might tumble back and wet itself further. I stood straight upon the wooden boards and shook my hair free so it might drip its wetness more easily, and she called Resta rose from the edge of the flooring to face me.

“I do not know you,” said she, looking up into my eyes, “yet it seems that you should find as much pleasure in Famira’s fate as we. Was it not she who threw you to the ground not long after Ceralt first brought you here? Her hate for you was deep, and surely you return that hate in some measure?”

No other voices were to be heard in the dwelling, no more than the ripple and splash of water as Tarla drew herself to the flooring. All seemed to await my reply, yet I chose my words with difficulty.

“It is true I have no liking for she called Famira,” I groped, “yet I cannot bring meaning to the feelings you have shown. You glory in the pain and shame given her by another, but I heard no words of the times you yourself faced her. Is there none among you who might have faced this female and spoken of your dislike, then offered her the opportunity to defend her ways or stand in jeopardy of her safety? To find glee in deeds done by others that should have been done by you is not a thing Midanna care for.”

She called Resta seemed touched by confusion, and her hand gestured vaguely as she searched my face. “But we could not face Famira in such a manner!” she denied. “She stands taller than any here save yourself, and even had it been possible to match her, her father would have been furious if she had come to harm! Were we to find our own selves in jeopardy, merely to indicate dislike?”

“One must choose between possibilities.” I shrugged, seeing no confusion in the concept. “Either one lives silently beneath the yoke of others, or one asserts her right to an undisturbed life.

Having failed to assert yourself—through your own choosing—to now speak gleefully of your enemy’s downfall damages with dignity you possess. To feel pleasure at the thing is understandable. To gloat aloud is demeaning.”

The female Resta gazed down at her hands in upset, echoing the silence to be heard from the others. Thinking the matter ended, I began to turn away, yet Resta’s hand came to touch my arm.

“You say we should have faced her,” said the small, dark female. “Would you have faced her? Knowing that Ceralt might well have beaten you for causing her harm? It is whispered that Ceralt’s leather has not been idle, and the High Rider is not a man weakened by infirmity. Would you face his wrath merely to assert yourself?”

It seemed the female sought to find a point I would not contest, a point which showed that I, too, lived as she. The thought of Ceralt was not a pleasant one, yet I strove to keep the bleakness from my eyes.

“The matter is not one of merely,” I sighed, knowing my thoughts would not come through in my words. “Were Famira a warrior such as I, I would face her even though my blood might well adorn her blade. The importance is in the doing, not in what follows the doing. Should the importance of the doing be great enough, that which follows will be fit, no matter its nature.” And then I shrugged, adding, “I know of no other way it might be said.”

Resta fought to make sense of my words, and the crease of her brow remained even after she had gone to sit with others of the females. All spoke quietly among themselves, some argued just as quietly, and Tarla seemed deeply immersed in thought. She brought to me a heavy cloth with which to take some of the moisture from my hair, then aided me in combing the tangles from it, yet in all that time, no word was spoken between us. At last we availed ourselves of body clothes and were about to leave, when Tarla seemed to return to herself from a long distance off.

“Nearly have I forgotten the skin lotion,” said she in annoyance, walking not to the door of the dwelling, but to a wall which contained shelves. Upon one shelf stood many small pots, and Tarla chose one from among them. “Here, Jalav,” said she, turning to hold the pot out. “Do you not believe Ceralt would enjoy this scent?”

I walked toward her slowly, yet found it unnecessary to traverse the entire distance. The odor from the pot she had uncovered reached my nostrils easily, and I knew I wished none of it. Undoubtedly my expression spoke more clearly than words, for Tarla laughed and shook her head.

“Do not wrinkle your nose so,” she chided in amusement. “To see you, one would think this were the essence of long-dead falth. Come and let me spread it upon you, so Ceralt will be pleased. ”

“Such a scent would carry throughout an entire forest!” I protested, unwilling to approach her. “Game would flee instantly and enemies would happily surround it! No one who has ever hunted could wear such a scent, and even Ceralt would know this. He could not intend for me to be done so!”

Pity entered the large eyes of Tarla, and she approached to touch my arm. “Jalav, Ceralt shall not allow you to hunt,” said she, her voice very soft. “He wishes a woman with sweet scents upon her skin, not a hunter who is concerned with game. Let me put the lotion upon you, so his wrath may be avoided.”

I looked silently upon Tarla, then looked away, for Ceralt’s words had again returned to me. No bow, nor spear, nor sword, nor dagger shall Jalav again touch, he had said. I would not again hunt the forests, and Tarla spoke truly. Ceralt wished me made a slave-woman for his pleasure, not a warrior for a hunt. This I had not completely understood, and I slowly sat myself upon the flooring, feeling the emptiness my life had become. The dim, warm room surrounded me, yet I saw it not. I saw instead the many greens and browns of a forest, at times erupting in the splendor of flowers, the golden light falling lazily through thick leafy branches, the flash or stir of children of the wild, the pure, clean air, the blessed ground beneath one’s feet. Never again might I partake of this, and I grieved for my loss in silence, barely noticing Tarla’s hands upon me. The thick, heady scent given my skin made my insides turn, and I knew not how one was expected to breathe when enfolded in its mists. Some of the other females, Resta among them, came forth from their platforms to sit beside me upon the flooring, and all eagerly assured me that the odor was most appealing and that Ceralt would certainly be pleased. I knew not why they should speak to me so, yet I gave them courteous response, as befitted one who had once been a war leader. I knew not what words I spoke, yet I gave them courtesy for their courtesy to me.

When Tarla at last returned the pot to the shelf, we left the inner room for the outer. What had begun as extreme heat was now a good deal cooler, and I hurriedly donned my garments to keep the chill from me. My hair remained damp, yet its dampness did not penetrate the leather of my full body garment even though it hung between that and the fur outer garment. When Tarla and I were completely clad, we left the dwelling and returned toward Ceralt’s dwelling. I saw little of the waning fey, for my eyes found the hardened ground beneath my feet, and took great interest in the steps I took. In such a manner was I able to refrain from thinking upon the sharp cold which slapped at my face and hands, and also of what I might eventually become at the hands of Ceralt.

Upon reaching Ceralt’s dwelling, I was prepared to enter the door, yet Tarla’s hand reached before me to take a small, white square which was held in place by the door. The square contained black strokes, much like that which Ceralt had once called “writing,” and Tarla looked upon it as though the strokes had meaning for her, then her eyes found mine.

“Ceralt wishes you to await him within,” said she, a small frown at her brow. “I am not to remain with you, though I know not why this is. You are also to prepare the meat which is left for you upon the table by the window, for Ceralt shall wish to eat when he returns. Had I been allowed within, I would have assisted you with the meat, yet I am not allowed within.” She shook her head, the frown deepening, then dismissed the matter with a sigh. “Ah well, perhaps I shall be allowed to visit with you upon the new fey. I shall certainly attempt it. Do not despair, Jalav. All shall prove to be for the best.”

Her hand had come to my shoulder in support of the look of sympathy upon her face, yet I found myself unable to share her beliefs. That all would prove for the best seemed highly doubtful, for Mida had turned her back upon her warrior. I found something of a smile of encouragement to give the child, then entered the dwelling alone, closing the sight of the lifeless land without as I closed the door.

A large cut of meat indeed awaited me upon the platform by the window, and once I had rid myself of body and leg furs, I unwrapped it from its sacking and carried it to the fire. Cut wood lay neatly piled to the right of the stone hearth, and it took no more than a few lengths to see the fire grow stronger and brighter. When once the blaze had settled itself, I placed the meat upon the metal spit and suspended it above the fire, high enough to need no more than occasional turning. With this done, I sat upon the wooden floor with my back to the fire, seeking to dry the dampness from my hair with the warmth of the blaze. I disliked having damp hair in that lifeless land, for dampness seemed to draw the very chill of the air, the gray of the skies, the hardness of the ground. It was a thing one did well to avoid, if one were able.

I stretched out upon my side upon the wood of the floor, seeing the emptiness of the dwelling before me. The dwelling was not as mine had been, unadorned and untenanted save for the prisoner it held, yet it was empty of all life save mine, which was not the life which was meant to fill it. The dwelling was Ceralt’s, its walls and floors bedecked according to his preferences, and I merely another adornment, to await his return with the rest, unable to bring true life to the dwelling by my presence alone. It is thought by Midanna that a dwelling takes on a good deal of the likeness of the person inhabiting it, which would account for the uneasiness one feels when entering the dwelling of another. It is much like attempting to enter the body of another, a body which was not meant to be yours. Ceralt’s dwelling discounted me as a stranger, allowing me entrance only by cause of the fact that Ceralt wished it so. It did not welcome me as my Hosta home tent had ever done, and I rested my cheek upon the leather which covered my arm, seeking to bring to mind memory of my home tent. I sought for the memories a long time, yet found my home tent too far behind me to be easily brought forth.

Full dark had descended before Ceralt’s return, and he did not return alone. I had just swung the spitted meat away from the fire, deeming it overdone enough to suit even the taste of a city male, when the door opened to admit Ceralt and Lialt. The two males entered quickly, a blast of icy wind showing cause for their haste, and just as quickly removed their fur body coverings, hanging them upon the wall before coming toward the fire. I stood with a metal prong in my hand, having just used it to move the spit, and felt the despair welling within me at my body’s greeting to Ceralt’s presence. Truly had I become enslaved to him, to the dark-haired, light-eyed broadness of him, and I turned away so that he might not see the hunger for him in my eyes.

“It seems we have returned precisely on time, Lialt,” said he as he reached the tire. “The terlim is done and awaiting our teeth, therefore let us make haste to partake of it.”

“It seems a trifle rare,” judged Lialt, halting beside Ceralt to examine the meat, “yet I find myself hungry enough to eat an entire terlim, well done or entirely raw. At that, it is more than I had expected. Have you resorted to sorcery, brother, to elicit such obedience from her?”

“Not at all, brother,” Ceralt laughed, turning from the meat to gaze upon me. “Jalav is no more than a wench, and I am the man who was meant to tame her. She will obey me now without question, for she is beginning to learn her vulnerability before men. Is this not so, Jalav?”

The heavy enjoyment in his tone and words caused me to close my eyes, yet I knew that my hand was white about the prong of metal I held. That he would give me such shame before another should not have been unexpected, yet even so, I found that I could not reply to him.

“She does not deny it,” Lialt observed in amusement, “yet I would sooner deal with the terlim and save discussion for later. Are we to be served, brother?”

“Indeed,” said Ceralt, and his hand came to my face. When I opened my eyes to regard him, he took two squares of wood from above the hearth. “Place the meat upon the platters, Jalav,” he directed, handing the wooden squares to me, “and bring the entire thing to me with two forks as well. I shall then direct you further.”

He and Lialt then moved away from the fire, giving me free access to the spitted meat. I used the prong of metal I held to force the meat from the spit onto the top square of wood, all the while refusing to feel the tingling which his hand upon my face had caused. Again I recalled the many times males had served me in the Hosta home tents, and a seething anger began that Ceralt would demand the same service of me. My now-dry hair blew about my arms from the sharpness of my movements, yet I nevertheless found myself beside Ceralt, the meat and wooden squares and metal prongs all fetched as he had ordered. He and Lialt had taken seat opposite one another upon lenga pelts, no more than a pace apart, and they shared a skin of near-renth between them. They sat near to the fire and had not lit any of the flames within boxes upon the walls, and Ceralt looked up at me as I offered the meat and such.

“There are vegetables in storage within the dwelling,” said he, taking all from my hands to set it before him. “When next you prepare my provender, prepare vegetables as well, for I dislike eating meat alone. In a moment, you may bring Lialt his portion. ”

No reply seemed called for, therefore I merely stood and awaited the cutting of the meat. Ceralt divided the meat in twain with his dagger, then moved the smaller portion to the second wooden square and returned it to me, along with a metal prong. I took two short steps to my right where Lialt leaned at ease upon his pelt, and placed his provender before him. Despite his comments upon great hunger, he made no move to touch the offering, instead keeping his eyes directly upon me. I disliked the amusement in the look and began to return to the fire behind me, yet his words caused my step to slow and my annoyance to grow higher.

“How do her wounds fare, Ceralt?” said he, little true concern in the sound of him. “I have not had the opportunity to examine them in some time.”

“She is well scarred,” replied Ceralt about a mouthful of meat, “though the scars appear to be healing properly. Would you care to inspect them yourself?”

I whirled about in anger, thinking Ceralt truly made sport of me, yet his eyes were upon his provender, his body bent over his crossed legs as he cut at the meat. Lialt, however, continued to regard me as he had earlier, and a grin took him at sight of my anger.

“I think it my duty to inspect them,” said he with a chuckle, his hands clasped easily upon the pelt. “I should not like to see complications arise due to negligence.”

“Very well,” agreed Ceralt with a brief glance for me. “Jalav, remove your garment and stand before Lialt so that he may examine you.”

Lialt lay in his place wrapped in true amusement, but it was a long moment before I was able to move my hands to the copper belt at my waist. Though Mida had abandoned me, though Ceralt had possession of my life, still was I unable to forget that once I had been a war leader, and such humiliation was difficult to bear. With short, sharp movements, I divested myself of belt and garment, dropping them to the floor where I stood, all the while beneath the eye of Lialt, When at last I stood before him, stiffly and with fists clenched, his amusement waned somewhat as he leaned closer to put a hand upon my calf.

“Surely the Serene Oneness guarded her,” he muttered, his thumb moving upon the spear track. “That she lived is astonishing enough, but that she remains uncrippled is a true wonder. I would not have considered it possible upon first sight of her. Kneel down here, Jalav, so that I might see the rest of you.”

I stood as I was, unmoving save for the breath of anger within me. That I had lived was no blessing, and any save a foolish male would see the truth in the matter. Lialt looked up in annoyance from my calf, yet I would have stood there to this very fey had Ceralt not said sharply, “Obey him!” If only the male had not possessed my sworn word; if only the Silla had been as thorough as Hosta would have been in their place! I knelt before Lialt, feeling the shame burn deep upon my face, and the male reached forth to run his hand over me.

“The other wounds seem equally well healed,” said he, his eyes partially lidded. “I had not noticed sooner, but her skin is much softer than it was. And what is that delightful scent she has been covered with?”

“Women things,” said Ceralt, a chuckle in his voice. “I had Tarla take her to the bathing halyar earlier. The choice in lotion was a good one, for I felt its power as soon as I entered. I must remember to thank Tarla, and praise her wisdom.”

“The wench is clever,” agreed Lialt with a grin. “Jalav has been much improved. Rise again to your feet, Jalav, and turn about so that I may see all of you. If I recall correctly, you are the one who sees no harm in looking upon another with pleasure. Stand again and give me pleasure.”

The laughter was muchly with him, and the presence of it caused my teeth to clench. “One fey there shall be a reckoning between us, Lialt.” I choked, fury softening my voice to no more than a whisper. “Upon that fey, all pleasure will be recalled, and I shall surely find pleasure of my own.”

An angry gleam came to the male’s eyes as I stood, yet I cared naught for his anger. My hand ached for the touch of a sword hilt, and the kill-lust screamed within me to be loosed upon all within reach. In all my kalod as a warrior, never had I found the need to deny the kill-lust when it rose, and I cared little for the present need to deny it. Lialt looked up at me where I stood, my arms folded beneath my life sign, my head held high, and he leaned from his arm to sit straighter.

“Apparently the wench has not learned as much as she should have,” Lialt rasped, the anger yet with him. “As you are to obey me, woman, you may now turn slowly in my view. And remove your arms from before you! Such is not the stance of a village woman!”

Truly, my stance was not that of the females of the village, and it pleased me that Lialt found it offensive. Should he ever become sthuvad to Midanna warriors, he would find it more offensive yet. Slowly, I unfolded my arms and began to turn, yet Lialt was not done with his bidding.

“Raise your hair away from your body,” he directed, at last drawing his dagger to cut the terlim. “I would see all sides of the wench before me.”

Angrily, I reached behind and held my hair up with both hands, finding it difficult to keep the mass of it away from my body. Lialt, however, grunted in approval, then waved his dagger indicating that I was to turn farther. As I did so, my eyes fell upon Ceralt where he sat, a large portion of his meat already gone. His light eyes moved slowly about me, appraising that which he saw, enjoying my humiliation before another male. The hatred touched me again even as I longed to throw myself to my knees before him, and I turned more rapidly to take him from my sight.

“Excellent,” Lialt pronounced as I faced him once more, his eyes amove upon me as he chewed his provender. “She is truly a tempting and well-made wench, Ceralt, and should provide you with much use. No, Jalav, do not lower your hair. I find the sight of you more pleasing as you are.”

I raised my arms again to the position they had been in, and stood so for a number of reckid with Lialt’s eyes upon me, the amusement having returned to him in great measure. I disliked such inspection by a male, disliked having to stand so before him, yet I had not been given leave to move. The shame of it! That a Hosta warrior was required to stand so, as though she were a city slave-woman—! Fury burned so within me that I trembled, and I could not take my eyes from the sword which hung upon Ceralt’s wall.

“You are mistaken, Lialt,” Ceralt said of a sudden, as though there had been no lapse in conversation. “Her appearance is not excellent, it is barely adequate. Such thinness is not acceptable to me, and I will not allow it to continue. Jalav, come here.”

I released my hair and reluctantly turned to him, seeing that a good portion of the meat had been left upon his square. I had hoped to find it unnecessary to partake of the meat, yet Ceralt continued to keep escape from me. He gestured to the lenga pelt beside him, indicating that I was to kneel there, and I went and did so, silently cursing his preferences. Lialt preferred slender females, much like Tarla, yet Ceralt knew that my slimness was from lack of sustenance rather than from Mida’s will. Had it been Lialt in possession of me, my escape would have been much the easier. I pushed my hair back so that I might not kneel upon it, and watched as Ceralt cut a piece of the terlim with his dagger, finally allowing myself to become aware of the hunger which gripped me. Despite the falum which had been given me earlier, my insides curled with the need for meat, a need I would have much preferred ignoring. Ceralt cut the terlim smaller, and smaller again, and at last raised a piece toward me in his fingers, yet when I attempted to take it from him, he would not allow it.

“No, Jalav,” said he, holding the piece away. “You kneel beside me as a proper wench, yet you have still not learned to obey properly. To continue with your lessons, you shall now eat from my hand.”

I drew my hand back and stared at him, recalling the time I had refused to feed from his hand, knowing that he, too, recalled the time. Sooner would I starve than feed from the hand of a male, and this Ceralt knew, else he would not have smiled as he did. I could not refuse his bidding, would not be allowed to refuse his bidding, and the hatred rose up so high that it touched all sides of the humiliation he forced upon me. This was the reaping of my body’s needs, to be constantly shamed at the hands of a male. Vile were the curses I heaped upon myself as his hand rose toward my lips, yet I was not able to refuse the terlim he placed in my mouth. The taste of him was also somehow upon the meat, yet I chewed without thought of what I did, for the shame was too great to consider. Slowly I chewed, tasting only bitterness, and Lialt’s amusement added much to my misery.

Ceralt saw that I fed upon each of the pieces he cut, no matter that the amount was greater than my hunger. He began by placing the meat within my mouth, yet soon he tired of raising his arm so high and bid me bend to where he held the bite. Shame upon shame and misery upon misery, I bent to his hand so that he might place the meat between my teeth, and soon it was necessary to put my hands upon his thigh so that I might reach his hand. I touched no more than his leather leg covering, yet his flesh burned my palms even through the leather, and the inadvertent touch of his arm to my breasts turned them hard and pointed as though the chill without had me in its grip. Again the moisture flowed from me, recalling to my body how it had been denied, and I choked upon the meat thrust into my mouth, consumed by a different hunger of the flesh. Ceralt kept his eyes upon me all the while, knowing the agony of the need he put upon me, grinning at the sight of my arousal as he fed me. His finger deliberately moved to touch the point of my breast, and I gagged upon the meat I chewed, attempting to swallow it and a groan as well. Lialt laughed as Ceralt chuckled, and my face burned red at their amusement, yet I could not halt the heat of my body, a heat which was Ceralt’s alone.

At last the meat was done, and the males shared the skin of near-renth to wash down the taste of their own meals. I knelt in the dimness beside Ceralt, wishing even the fire were not lit so that I might not be seen by the males. They had both much enjoyed the sight of me bending to be fed by Ceralt, my thighs locked together, my body quivering at the slightest touch of the male. I felt afire where I knelt, longing to moan aloud, yet kept this final shame from touching me. It was shame enough that I could not withstand the feel of Ceralt’s hands upon me; to show my enslavement to him without being touched would be far worse.

“What word have you had from Hannil, Ceralt?” asked Lialt, taking the skin which was passed to him. “Will he join us on the journey, or must we continue without his support?”

“He will join us,” replied Ceralt, reaching to where I knelt to stroke my arm. I shivered at the caress and longed to move away, yet his arm came about me and drew me face down upon his lap. He threw my hair from me and stroked my back next, and I closed my eyes and clung to the leg of him, lost in the touch of the male who had captured my soul. As his hand moved over the roundness of my bottom, I could no longer hold the moan within, and Ceralt and Lialt laughed at my torture and helplessness.

“She is a true varaina,” Ceralt murmured, both hands upon my thighs as his thumbs worked deeply within me. “See how she writhes to the mere touch of a hand, Lialt. See how she whimpers and quivers. Can there be any question as to what she is?”

“She is female,” Lialt replied, a shrug clear in his tone. “When a female is made to feel her heat, she is helpless to the touch of a man. Any female may be done so, should she fall to a man who will use her as she should be used. I have seen many a man come begging a woman’s favor, who, when rejected, declared the woman cold. Yet this same cold woman will writhe at another man’s feet, begging to be used, for this second man had not himself come begging, but demanding. Women seek for strength in a man, and bow to him eagerly when such strength is shown. This one requires more strength than others, yet she, too, is no more than a woman.”

“A woman with the needs of a lanthay mare,” Ceralt chuckled, pleased that he had reduced me to sobbing. I clung tightly to the leg of him, my eyes well shut, my hands aclutch upon his leather leg covering. So deeply did he touch me that I felt I must cry out, and when I did so, his laughter joined that of Lialt. No longer was I warrior before them, no longer was I able to defy them, yet so deep was my need that I cared not. I wished no more than use from Ceralt, yet I dared not speak of it lest he refuse me and increase my agony.

“Hannil has sent word that he and ten of his riders will join us,” Ceralt continued to the other male as I wept quietly. “He and his riders will bring their women, for he deems it unwise that there be only one woman among us. I have decided to follow his example and allow our riders to bring their wenches as well, for there will be ample time to leave them tented with two riders as guards before we enter the area of danger. Once our mission is complete, they may be taken up again upon the return journey. ”

“I shall seek among the Snows for an indication of the wisdom of such a course of action,” Lialt remarked, obviously disapproving. “I do not care for the thought of so many wenches so near to our goal, and even had I already drawn Tarla from the circle, she would not accompany us.”

“There is little else we may do,” Ceralt replied, somewhat disturbed. “Hannil must accompany us to give us the support of the villages beneath his sway. The Belsayah and the Neelarhi must be one in the crisis, and I may direct the doing of the Belsayah alone. My village chiefs all stand prepared to move against the coming strangers, yet we alone are not enough. Hannil’s Neelarhi must join us, yet they will not join us without the word of Hannil. Hannil has agreed to ride upon the journey, yet he desires the presence of his woman. It is not a question of allowing it, Lialt. It is only a question of seeing it made as safe as possible.”

“Lack of choice,” Lialt growled, moving upon his lenga pelt. “Always there is lack of choice! How may we succeed with so little choice of action left to us? Are we merely to be pawns of the Snows, doing its bidding? Never before has such a thing happened.”

“Never before have we been faced with such danger,” Ceralt replied, his deep concern reaching even through my misery. “The Snows have shown the strong possibility of our falling before the will of the strangers, and should such occur, our lives as we know them will cease to be. We must rejoice that there is choice of any sort, even so slender a choice as that before us, else we would be lost before battle was joined. Should we find the ally we seek, even those of the cities must stand with us. The catch is worth the hunt, Lialt, no matter the dangers we travel through. ”

“And no matter the losses we face?” asked Lialt, so quietly that the words nearly eluded me. I knew little other than the presence of Ceralt’s hand upon me, and cared naught for the sadness within the other male’s voice.

“One cannot grieve for the small loss when the greater is thereby averted,” said Ceralt, no sadness within his own voice. A dismissal of the unimportant rang therein, and then he laughed. “I would have you remember, brother, that we have as yet sustained no losses. Should the Serene Oneness guard our cause, perhaps there will be no losses.”

“Aye, perhaps,” Lialt sighed, and then there was a silence, broken only by my moans. I had attempted to turn toward the male who held me, yet he had not allowed it. His fingers upon my flesh had made it plain that I was not to move about other than by his will. Much did I yearn to take Ceralt and use him, yet the accursed strength of males made such a thing impossible, allowing Ceralt, instead, to impose his will upon me. In misery, I cried out to Mida in my heart, bowing to her rejection of me, yet begging for an end to the agony of life. I lay with my cheek upon Ceralt’s leg furs, tears of weakness in my eyes, arms about the leg I lay upon, my body writhing to the touch of the one who owned me, who had made me slave to his desire. My need was all consuming, yet he chose to increase it rather than ease it. I no longer knew the male to whom I was chained, yet he had grown to know me well.

“The wench is much taken by her need,” came Lialt’s voice from where he sat. “Have you no intentions of seeing to her, brother?”

Ceralt’s hands left my body to grasp my arms, and I was lifted from his legs as he withdrew them, and thrown to my back upon the hard, cold wood of the floor. I thought surely he would use me then, yet only his hand came to hold me as I was by the hair. My eyes opened to see Ceralt and Lialt to either side of me, Ceralt again sitting cross-legged with no apparent movement imminent. I struggled against the restraint of my hair in his grip attempting to reach him, yet his head shook slowly back and forth.

“She shall be seen to when the desire is mine,” said he to Lialt, his light eyes resting upon me. “Too long have her own desires been catered to, and it has done her little good. She must learn she now belongs to men.”

“I feel she learns only of your ways, Ceralt,” said Lialt as the hatred coursed through me again. So broad and sure was the male Ceralt, and so uncaring of the pain he gave me. A growl rose in my throat as I continued to struggle against being held flat upon the floor, and the sudden presence of Lialt’s hand upon my thigh startled me.

“She has learned naught of the proper manner before other men,” continued Lialt, his light eyes, so much like Ceralt’s, filled with a strangeness I could not define. I moved to brush his hand from my thigh, yet his grip tightened. “You see?” he demanded of Ceralt. “She thinks no more of other men than she did when first we found her. In what way do you expect to alter this foolishness?”

“There is but one way to shatter false pride,” replied Ceralt, his gaze and tone having hardened. “As you are guest within my halyar, Lialt, I offer you the use of my woman.”

Lialt’s broad face took on a look of satisfaction, yet I could not credit what I had heard. That Ceralt had once shared me with Telion was well remembered by me, yet Telion, though male, was a warrior, and even Telion’s use had been denied by Ceralt after a time. To be offered to one such as Lialt was a great insult, as though I were no more than a sthuvad among warriors. Lialt would have been accepted by many Midanna warriors, yet I, having known him, wished no part of him. Ceralt’s hand left my hair, and with anger I sought to free myself from Lialt’s fingers, yet Lialt’s other hand gripped my arm, and I was drawn to the furs he sat upon.

“It is ever a pleasure to have a desirable wench in one’s arms,” murmured Lialt, my struggles meaningless against his strength. “You seemed much in the grip of a great need, Jalav. Have you no desire for me?”

I had desire for none save Ceralt, and would have pronounced the matter so had Lialt not touched me just then. My body, so long denied, leaped to his touch, and I cried out in misery as I was held to his broad, leather-covered chest. Again and again did Lialt cause me to cry out, and my shame was so great that I knew naught of his having thrown his breech aside till my legs were thrust apart and he entered me. The sudden presence of his manhood forced a scream from my throat, a scream of denial that I might be used so by one who was not Ceralt. Even as my body delighted in his presence, even as it gave him slave-due, I fought the humiliation of his grinning, jarring use, yet to no avail. He thrust again and again deeply within me, his hands on my arms so that I might not move from him, and slowly, surely, my struggles became less till I could no longer deny what he gave me. Again I cried out, this time with a sob, and I sought to seize him and draw him closer, yet he would have none of it. My use had been given to him, not his use to me, and much did I writhe beneath him, helpless in his arms, helpless before his might, helpless in the demands of his manhood. Much pleasure did he take from my body in the time of his use, and when he found release from his own needs, he held me to him so that I might shiver with the delight of it against his chest. He had not withdrawn from me, and I savored his presence as one would savor the presence of dry ground after nearly drowning. His leather carried much of the smell of him, and I breathed deeply of the leather to sustain the pleasure he had given me.

“Never have I had a wench so eager to serve,” he murmured with a chuckle, his lips to my forehead. “Had I had any doubts as to your womanhood, I have them no longer.”

My cheek to his leather, I closed my eyes in shame, yet what he had said could not be denied. I had not wished to serve him, had not wished to give him pleasure, and yet he had caused me to do both. The male whom I had scorned had put me beneath him and had caused me to writhe as he desired, leaving me naught of dignity to which I might cling. His manhood stirred within me, chasing all thoughts of the fur beneath my bare back, the leather against my breasts, the silvered belt high against my middle. There was suddenly no awareness of the male save his presence within me, and to my helpless shame, my hips moved against him, acknowledging my desire to be used by him again. I knew not what had brought me to such degradation, yet its existence could not be denied. Hopelessness welled within me even as my heat began to rise, and I knew not what I might do to free myself from the slavery of my needs.

“You were correct in likening her to a lanthay mane,” Lialt laughed to Ceralt, his hand to my bottom. “Again she offers eager service to a rider, and the softness of her is most compelling. However,” and his hand left my bottom to raise my chin till I might look him in the eye, “it is considered ill-mannered to fail to return a woman in the same state in which she was given you. I feel that your need has now been returned to you, little varaina, therefore I shall also return you to Ceralt. Should you please him sufficiently, he will see to you.”

He left me then and rose to retrieve his breech, and I turned quickly in the furs to bury my face in them. What had I done which was so terrible in Mida’s eyes that she had abandoned me in such a place? Bound to one male, given to another, enslaved to the manhood of both, finding no relief even in the shame brought upon me, forced to writhe in perpetual need? Nearly had I begged Lialt not to leave me without first using me, and he had smiled at the anguish upon my face and in my eyes. Ceralt had watched my use with no expression, yet his body had been stretched relaxed upon his furs as though he had no more than small interest in what was done to me. That males had no honor and no feeling for others, I already knew, yet somehow I had come to believe Ceralt different. Now he seemed no more than other males and gladly would I have left him, yet I remained bound to him more tightly than the ropes of Nolthis had bound me in his chamber. This time there was no escape for Jalav, no escape, no hope, no honor and no dignity. I shuddered in the warmth of the furs, and sought to still the desire which continued to mount within me.

Lialt and Ceralt spoke warmly a moment or two, and then Lialt donned his body furs and left the dwelling. I heard the door close as a prelude to deep silence, and though my face remained well within the lenga fur, I knew Ceralt gazed upon me. Long did he gaze upon me in silence, and then, at last, his voice came.

“See to cleaning and replacing the platters, woman,” said he, his tone empty of all save a slight weariness. “It is time I sought my furs in sleep, for there is much to be done with the new light.”

Aye, I thought as I forced myself from the furs and to my feet, there is much yet which might be done to show Jalav her helplessness. It is unfitting to males that a warrior be left to ride free and live as she would. Take her and chain her, beat her and use her, bind her and shame her, and then speak proudly of how she has been saved from the cruelty of her former life. I kept my eyes from Ceralt’s as I gathered the wooden squares and carried them to the fire, yet I knew that he looked upon me as I moved, perhaps again assessing my form. I felt that the spear tracks truly disturbed him, and wished that there had been thrice the number of Silla to form the lines. The Silla were falth, and knew naught of the proper manner of doing things.

Once the wooden squares had been cleaned and returned to their place, I turned from the fire to find that Ceralt had removed his garments and placed a number of lenga pelts together, one lying at an angle atop the others as though to be used as a cover. Ceralt took a final swallow from the skin of near-renth, closed it again against spillage, then glanced toward me as he hung the skin upon a wall.

“Pull the door string within so that we may sleep undisturbed,” he directed, and then gestured toward the pelts. “The arrangement of my sleeping place is part of your duties, and in future you are to see to it. I wish it done just as you see it, and you may also remove it come the new light. Perhaps, once the danger is past, my people may be introduced to the concept of beds. In my time in the cities, I grew to enjoy their use and presence.”

He went toward the lenga furs then, and I went toward the door to draw the leather string from its hole. My mind had at last ceased searching bitterly for Mida’s reasons for what had been done to me, for there was no way I might find those reasons. What was done was done, and likely would not again be undone. I returned from the door, my eyes searching for a lenga pelt upon which I might pass the darkness, and Ceralt rose up on one elbow from his furs to consider me.

“For what do you seek?” he asked, his eyes somewhat puzzled. “There is naught left to be done before you may join me here.”

I ceased my search with a good deal of disappointment, and slowly went to join him in his furs. Truly. I should have known better than to think I would be allowed surcease from the near presence of him, yet he had spoken of his furs and his sleeping place. I had not yet truly learned that ail possessions of males are spoken of so, and that I, too, was a possession. It was his things which I would use, and only by his will. One possession had no say concerning the others.

Ceralt drew me down to the furs beside him, covering me as he had already covered himself, and I felt the warmth of his flesh against the chill which mine had been given as I had moved about away from the fire. His arms encircled me as he held me to him, and my body flowed against the hardness of his. A warrior’s body was not so muscular and hard, and fleetingly I thought that I would not care to have such a body. Mine had always pleased me more, and had it not been the cause of my downfall, I would have preferred it above all others.

“You served my brother well, little varaina,” Ceralt murmured, his hands moving in my hair as a male does when he wishes pleasure from it. “You had no desire to serve him, yet he taught you that you must serve despite your desires. Do you wish to insist that you will not again serve him so, should he seek it?”

I spoke no words for I knew the futility of them, and Ceralt chuckled. “Perhaps you at last begin to know your place among men,” he said, sounding well pleased. “You are no more than a wench beneath them, no more than an object of desire. Jalav the warrior is no more, and only Jalav the woman remains.”

He then held me closer and brought his lips to mine, and my body was his without thought. Much did he use me that darkness, nearly as much as the previous darkness, and the fire was long dead when at last his breathing grew even in sleep. Cloaked in darkness, covered with the smell of the use of males, I lay in his arms against his chest, hearing his words ring over and over in my mind. Jalav the warrior is no more. Jalav the warrior is no more. My need had been seen to by the male who possessed me, yet a deep ache remained to throb and stab and tear at the insides of me. How I wished that the words of the male were true and Jalav the warrior indeed was no more. I wished it so fervently that tears ran down my cheeks in streams, yet I felt no shame at such weakness. In the loneliness and darkness my life had become, there were none to see another small shame, none to care that no dignity remained to be damaged. All that I had known was no more, yet I, myself, would remain. My tears ran heavily to the chest of the male who held me, and sobs shook my body beyond controlling, yet he whom I once had known slept on, at peace with himself and the glory of his doings.