Chosen of Mida

3 A gift—and a champion is named

Sensation returned with an awareness of the fur I lay upon, a fur of great softness and comfort. I moved somewhat upon the fur, by then aware of the second fur which covered me, opening my eyes to look deep within the flames I lay not far from. The warmth of the hearth and the comfort of the furs were a great lure to remaining as I was, yet a sense of impatience and matters unseen to came immediately to move me to sitting. It was not till I had looked about the strange chamber in the hearthlight that I recalled the why of my having no recollection of having entered therein, the why of my having been placed there to begin with. The shoulder wound had taken my strength and senses, an unexplained event I had not then been able to question. That the wound had been painful was true, yet had I had more serious wounds in the past that had not done me so. I turned my head to examine the wound in the hearthlight, aware of the odd fact that all pain now seemed to be gone, also suddenly aware of how great my hunger was—and then sat merely to stare, the while I considered the possibility that I continued to dream.

The wound before my eyes, which had been made by the penetration of a sword to more than finger joint depth within my shoulder, had become no more than a line of pink, tender yet to the touch of my fingers, yet giving no pain of its own, allowing my arm the movement it had not previously allowed. That the arm was clean of all signs of blood was undoubtedly due to the efforts of the warriors who had brought me to the chamber, yet the healing clearly had not had the same effort as its source. For a moment I could not fathom the manner in which this might have been done—save for the possibility that I had lain senseless for feyd rather than hind—and then did I recall the throbbing of my life sign before all consciousness had fled. Had no more than hind been spent in the passing, it was undoubtedly the powers of Mida and dark Sigurr which had seen to my wound, healing me so that I might continue to toil in their behalf. It would take no more than the seeking out of my warriors to learn the truth of the matter, and this I would do with speed.

Climbing to my feet was effortless, filled as I was with new strength and great vitality. The chamber I now stood in was large, too large to be seen by naught save the hearthlight. The outline of an immense platform called bed stood among the shadows upon the far wall, many other outlines less easily discernible scattered all about, all closed within a chamber hung completely about with drapings off silk. Had there been windows in view I might have known how much of the darkness remained, yet the question was not so pressing that I felt a need to seek behind the hangings. My hunger seemed bottomless and growling within me, threatening to turn the newfound feeling of well being to ashes and weakness. The hunger must be seen to first, I knew, that and the matter of seeking out my war leaders; with that done, there would be time enough for other things.

My swordbelt lay upon the floor cloth beside the furs I had awakened upon, the hilt of the blade positioned so that it would be conveniently to hand. Replacing it about my waist took but a moment, as did the straightening of my dagger in its leg bands, then did I stride purposefully toward the sole door to be seen in the chamber. A gentle push swung it outward, immediately giving me sight of the chamber in which he called High Seat had entertained the guests within his dwelling, the chamber which had been well lit within its center by a ring of candles. Some few of those candles continued to burn, illuminating those who occupied the chamber, giving sight to those who had greater desire for things other than sleep. Many slept, it was true, more than a few in chains, yet two of those who remained awake, upon the floor cloth but two paces from where I stood, they and I both well-wrapped in shadow, spoke softly as their shadow-forms moved.

“You are well-made, male,” came the whisper of a warrior, her voice breathy and filled with satisfaction. “I shall undoubtedly use you again before we return to the forests.”

“It was my hope that I would give you pleasure. Mistress,” came the answering whisper of a male, one who was obviously a slave. His arm rose from the floor cloth to the dark shape above him, his hand reaching out with purpose, quickly drawing a gasp of pleasure from the warrior who rode him. “Forgive me, Mistress,” he whispered as quickly, his hand retaining its hold. “I mean no insult by touching you so. This lovely breast beneath my fingers drew me so strongly that I could not resist it. How I wish I might be allowed to give you even greater pleasure.”

“Greater pleasure?” gasped the warrior, nearly lost to the sensations of her body. “How might such a thing be possible?”

“It would be possible if I were to be allowed to move more freely,” said the male, his voice coaxing as his hips rose gently from the floor cloth, drawing a moan which underscored the effectiveness of the motion. “Should you allow yourself to be placed briefly beneath me, your pleasure would easily be increased twofold.”

“Beneath you?” echoed the warrior, attempting in vain to duplicate the sensation which the male had given with the thrust of his hips. “I have never had a male in such a way. Would it truly increase my pleasure?”

“Beyond all doubt,” said the male, and then were his arms about the warrior, holding her close to his body. “Should I fail to serve you so, I would be remiss in my duties. Slay me if you must, yet first I shall give you the pleasure that is your due.”

The male, with one hand at her back and one hand upon her bottom, then rolled quickly to place the warrior beneath him, her possession of him immediately becoming the reverse. The warrior gasped in surprise, her body beginning to struggle in his arms, yet all sound ceased as his lips took hers, a different motion beginning as the male rose to his knees and thrust himself more deeply than he had heretofore been allowed to do. A frenzied moaning began in the throat of the warrior as the hips of the male drove harder and harder, a moaning refused freedom by the lips of the male, a moaning continuing for long reckid and then increasing till her frantic movements were abruptly ended with a deep sigh, a sign the male understood. He withdrew his lips to allow her the breath she required, slowing the thrust of his hips, reaching instead to her breast with his tongue to force a great shudder from her.

“Mida sustain me!” whispered the warrior fervently, her hands upon the broad arms of the male, her body twisting in faint protest against the sensations again building within her. Well she knew that the male had not yet allowed himself to attain release, and therefore would again send her to the reaches she had only just returned from.

“Do you wish me to cease?” asked the male quite softly, his lips moving upon the breasts of the warrior, his hips continuing the thrust of his manhood. “Should you insist that I withdraw I shall do so, for I am a slave and bound to obey. Are you so displeased that you would send me from you?”

“No!” gasped the warrior, grasping the arms of the male as her body opened more fully to his penetration. “It is my command that you continue as you have been doing! I demand that you serve me!”

“Indeed,” murmured the male, slowing his movement despite the writhing of the warrior. “I will, of course, obey all commands given me to the best of my ability, yet it seems that I must soon allow myself release. Should this occur, the Mistress will be left with great need unseen to, and I, wretched slave, will undoubtedly be soundly punished. Perhaps, Mistress, this slave might be allowed to suggest a solution to the dilemma.”

“Do not withdraw so far!” begged the warrior, struggling in vain with male strength to return him to her. “Do not yet allow yourself release! Mida protect me, I cannot bear to be left so!”

“It need not be, Mistress,” whispered the male, again thrusting deep within her. “The Mistress will find herself well seen to, should this slave be given her word that he will be freed from his slavery and this city. I ask no more than to be released unharmed, to go my way quickly and in peace. Speak now, wench, for I mean this slavery to end in one manner or another. Should you wish service, I must be freed to be on my way; should you refuse, I shall find another to serve so.”

The warrior, well beside herself with need, choked upon the words which she could not bring herself to utter. To give her word under such conditions would destroy her as a warrior, an agony I knew far too well to doubt. The male seemed well aware of the fact that the warrior would not speak of the shame given her even should she refuse, yet was he ignorant of the memories of she who stood within the shadows and listened. Such memories are not easily forgotten, the seeking of a sworn word in an instance where others sought naught save pleasure. So had Jalav once been done, yet Jalav was no longer captive to males, to be used as they willed and kept without weapons. Jalav was free, to do with males as she pleased.

Silently and easily did I move from the doorway, allowing the door to fall closed in a gentle swing, the silence of my natural tread aided yet further by the depth of the floor cloth, in two paces arriving behind the back of the male. He, attempting to force the sworn word of a warrior, knew naught of my presence till my left hand had taken him by the hair, forcing his head back exposing his throat to the point of my dagger.

“Should you fail to see to the warrior beneath you, your life is no more,” said I in a murmur, pleased with the candlelit gleam of the dagger blade at his throat. “You now perform for your life, male, therefore do I advise the exhibition of great skill.”

“I cannot!” gasped the male, frozen in the position to which I had pulled him, fear clearly to be heard in his voice. “In the name of the Serene Oneness, Mistress, I beg you to ease back with that blade! One breath closer and I am gone!”

“You are unable to see to my warrior?” I asked in the mildest of tones, retaining the dagger where I had placed it. “A pity, male, for now she will need to seek the use of another. Do not fail to give my greetings to Mida when your eyes open once again to find yourself in her chains.”

“No!” cried the male, a trembling beginning in the broad body of him. “I must not die so! I will serve the woman!”

A brief moment did the male attempt hesitation, seeking, no doubt, an easing of the blade, yet when such easing was not quickly forthcoming, he carefully began the task given him. The warrior beneath him had been silent in her misery, too shamed to speak her desires, yet in but a few reckid was she again writhing wildly, without volition, made slave to a male by the needs of her body. The moment her release came he, too, was taken by the thing, undoubtedly fearing that his release would not be otherwise allowed. The hand of others remaining awake in the chamber, warriors clearly set as guard by Tilim and Rogon and the others, had approached when first I had reached the male, one of their number bearing a large candle from the ring in the center of the chamber. By its light I had been able to see that the male was he who had spoken to me earlier, asking that he be allowed entrance to my sleeping leather. I withdrew my hand and dagger from the male, allowing him to collapse to the floor cloth in defeat, allowing the vision of a well-used warrior to be seen by the others.

“It is fortunate you were awake, war leader,” said a Helda, the yellow of her clan covering clear in the candlelight. “That one has shamed us all in her weakness, and would undoubtedly have allowed the male to do you harm. ”

“Not so,” said I, stilling the rumble of anger from the others. She who had been well used lay with face averted upon the floor cloth, shame and self-condemnation strong upon her. “This warrior has done me a service, taking shame upon herself so that I might be spared the pain. It is true this service was done unknowingly, yet has this warrior my gratitude—and that of the male.”

“Of the male?” echoed the Helda, afrown in lack of understanding. “For what reason would the male feel gratitude?”

“For such a reason,” said I, looking upon the male where he lay beside the warrior, upon one elbow, his head bowed by the defeat he had sustained. “Should this male have attempted with me what he attempted with this warrior, his blood would now be spread upon the floor cloth, staining it as he would have stained my honor. Males must ever attempt the use of warriors, to attain what ends they desire, caring naught for the warrior herself, merely for their desires. Once was I, too, used so cruelly, not for pleasure alone, only to serve the purpose of a male. The need of a warrior burns strong within her, difficult to deny, yet would I have denied it to see myself revenged upon this male. Give thanks to this warrior, male, that you retain what life is in you.”

The male looked upon me with pain in his eyes, knowing I spoke the truth the warrior beside him, a young Harra by the brown of her thrust-up clan covering, also gazed upon me, her frown much like that of the Helda beside me.

“You, too, were done so, war leader?” said she, shock and a good deal of indignation in her voice. “How might such a thing be possible?”

“All is as Mida wills it,” I shrugged, beyond the need for further explanations. “It was Mida’s will that I learn the soul-destroying agony of service to a male. The touch of this male gave you greater pleasure than any male before him, did it not?”

“Indeed,” nodded the warrior, sitting upon the floor cloth and turning her head to regard the male. “Never have I been made to feel such—abandon.”

“The thought will come that it would cause no harm to experience such again,” said I, without bitterness. “It is this, the desire to know such—abandon—again, which closes the warrior in a trap. You have surely engaged in trading for the Harra. Would you trade the freedom of the forests, the life of a warrior, to follow this male and serve his every need, to insure that this abandon would be yours forever?”

“Never!” gasped the Harra, shock and horror strong upon her, her agitation sending her to her feet and from the male. He, now deeply afrown, stared up at the manner in which she took herself from him, the disgust to be seen upon her face much like a blow delivered him.

“And yet this is the sole manner in which males and warriors might dwell together,” said I, pleased to see that those warriors who had earlier condemned the Harra, now stood themselves the closer in support of her. “A male must ever be served by the female he chooses, his word alone to be obeyed, his wishes alone to be seen to. Pleasure alone cannot compensate for the loss a warrior must endure, the loss of the life she has ever known. Should you wish the life of a slave-woman, seek again the arms of a male.”

“Would such a fate truly be so terrible?” asked the male, gazing upon the Harra. “To see to the needs of a man is a natural thing for a woman, the thing all women were made for. In turn would I defend your life with mine, hunt for you, feed and clothe you, give you my children to bear. We would each of us serve the other in our own way, and thus would we find happiness together. I see a great loveliness within you, wench, and when I succeed in escaping the chains of this place, it would please me to take you with me.”

“You are able to give deep pleasure, male,” said the Harra, her tone as sober as the dark of her eyes. “Such a thing would lure me greatly, and yet— Should it be my will to hunt the forests in your stead, to stand with naked blade before those who would challenge me, to leave what daughters I bear in the care of others and ride to battle with the sisters of my clan—how then would stand your views?”

“Such things would be totally unacceptable as well as unnecessary,” scoffed the male, rising to his feet to look down upon the warrior. “What need is there for you to hunt when I would do the thing? And how might a man look upon himself, should he allow his wench to stand protection for him? As for the matter of riding to battle—are my sons to be bereft of their mother and I bereft of my woman, due solely to the whim of others to spill blood? A woman’s place is by her hearth, not roving about forests and battlefields.”

“And not a word of standing together,” said I, seeing the shudder of horror touching the Harra, the disbelief and revulsion upon the faces of the others. “The sword of a warrior is unwelcome beside that of a male, the will of a warrior naught beside his. Do you wonder now, that the females of such as these are slaves? To use a male is great pleasure, to speak with him a waste of breath. Never will they see the thing through eyes other than their own.”

“In what other way is a man to see?” demanded the male, turning his anger upon me. “Though I now be chained here as a slave, I have not forever been a slave, nor shall I continue so forever. I am a man intending to be free, a man who wishes to see his woman safely beside him, a man who wishes what danger there is to fall upon his shoulders rather than hers. Is this so wrong?”

“And should your concept of safety destroy this female you profess to care for?” I countered, left hand upon sword hilt, anger in my voice. “Should she swear upon her life sign that the safety of your hearth would cause her to waste away, would you then release her? Would you return to her the freedom of the forests, or would you merely assure her that she would soon grow used to naught save caring for your dwelling and serving your needs? Would you release her, male?”

“I—would find it difficult,” said the male, his anger covered well by confusion and hurt. “It is difficult to believe such a thing would destroy a woman. I feel you speak through conviction brought about by experience, an experience painful to look back upon. Was it truly necessary to swear such a thing before you were released by the man who had claimed you?”

“I was not released,” I spat, then took greater control of my anger. The male before me was not the one who had refused to see my agony, the one who had seen no more than his own desires. That was another male, one for whom I had given away my soul. The male before me backed a pace, seeing that in my eyes which caused him to brace, as though against expected attack; therefore did I shake my head. “I was not released,” said I again, “yet the matter is not one to be discussed with males and captives. As this male is so eager to serve warriors, take him to the chamber of slaves and see that he receives the sthuvad drug. It is my command that he is to be used in no other way.”

“At once, war leader,” said one of the warriors, then did she and another force the male from the chamber at sword point. Twice did he look back, each time at the Harra, yet she, as a warrior, gazed musingly upon the sleeping forms of the remaining slave males, considering their possible use in place of the first male. She, I was sure, would not again heed the words of a male, nor allow him her use and her soul.

“In what way may we aid you, war leader?” said the Helda, not having left her place at my right arm. “Do you wish us to summon any of those who brought you here?”

“You may summon them all when once I have fed,” said I, turning to face her. “How much of the darkness remains before us?”

“It is less than two hind to Mida’s first light,” said the Helda, her eyes upon me. “Provender may be found upon those platforms against the far wall. It is only city-folk provender, yet is it— War leader! I do not understand what has occurred! Your wound, which I saw with my own eyes, is no more!”

“Calm yourself,” said I, placing my hand upon her shoulder to still the upset so plain in her eyes. “Were you not told that I ride in Mida’s cause, doing her bidding? It was her hand which healed my wound, so that I might continue her work undisturbed by distractions. Surely you understand the necessity for such?”

“Indeed, war leader, indeed do I understand,” said she, hastily yet very still beneath my hand. “Might I be allowed the honor of fetching your provender?”

Great eagerness underlay the Helda’s words, a glowing gaze emanating from her eyes, her body quivering as though in the throes of deep emotion held tightly in check. Such a reaction, which I had not expected, disturbed me, yet was there little I might do to dispel it. These warriors knew naught of the doings of the goddess and the god, therefore was it to be expected that they would be much in awe of such. Best would be to pretend it had not happened, yet it was unlikely that such would occur.

“I must first see what there is to be fed upon,” I sighed, removing my hand from her shoulder. “I would instead have you send for the war leaders who follow me, so that we may hold council before the new light.”

“At once, war leader,” breathed the Helda, her left hand to her sword hilt, the childlike eagerness continuing to possess her. “It is my honor to be commanded!”

Quickly, then, did she turn and leave the chamber, intent upon obeying those commands which had become an honor. Ah, Mida! Truly had the goddess full knowledge of the manner in which a warrior might be set completely apart from her sisters. Undoubtedly she thought it necessary to bind me more closely to her will, as she had thought it necessary to breed hatred within me for males; her beliefs were in error, yet how might I instruct her? A warrior cannot instruct a goddess, she may do no more than obey. And this would Jalav do, obey the goddess till life had fled. Jalav was Mida’s, with none to deny her, not even the male god Sigurr.

The provender upon the platforms was poor stuff, fit only for city folk who knew no better, yet was it necessary that I feed upon it to restore my strength. The nilno was overdone and awash in cold, thick grease, yet did I swallow each bite of it to the last, and the dark, baked grain as well, and the talta eggs and the lake fish known to warriors as sampa. Those warriors remaining within the chamber stood in awe of the hunger which had gripped me, staring in deep respect as I downed each pot of drink called renth by city males. Clear it was that those warriors had not yet tasted the renth, for it was thin, poor stuff beside the daru of warriors, truly fit for none save males. That, upon the provender which I had consumed, was less than the water to be found in forest streams.

When once I had fed as far as was necessary, I took a pot of renth and stood before the war leaders who had already gathered. That all the candles about the chamber had been relit meant naught, for a great darkness was to be felt in the silence possessed by each of them, a silence brought about by the abrupt healing of my wound. Their eyes lay upon me as I stood before them, left hand upon my sword hilt, pot of renth to my lips, yet no one gaze would truly meet mine, not even that of Tilim or Rogon or Gidon. All knew I had been touched by Mida, and none knew how they, themselves, might touch me.

“For what reason have you come here?” I demanded of them at last, looking to each of them. “For what reason do you stand here before me?”

Frowns touched their faces, indicating deep lack of understanding, stirring them in their places, after a moment moving Rogon to speech.

“We have come in answer to your summons, war leader,” said she, less determination in her voice than I had come to expect. “Have you no memory of having summoned us?”

“Indeed have I no memory of having summoned the likes of you,” said I, harshly, throwing the renth pot from me so that renth spilled upon the thickness of the floor cloth. “It had been my belief that I summoned war leaders, warriors of the Midanna, those who would sit in war council with me! Had I wished cringing, fearful city slave women, I would have prepared the chains of males for them! Run from me now, slave females, run to the arms of males for the safety you seem so to need! I shall seek for warriors elsewhere.”

In great disgust did I turn from them, professing not to hear first their shocked silence, and then the beginning mutters of anger which I had hoped would come. Stiffly did I stride to a platform and take up another pot to be filled with renth, and at that time did the voice of Rogon come again.

“Jalav, you may not address us so!” said she, the cold of insult clearly to be heard. “I, for one, am a warrior of the Midanna, privileged to meet insult with my blade! Should you speak so again, I shall face you with swords, though Mida strike me to the ground for the doing!”

“Though Mida strike you?” I snapped, turning quickly to face her, doing naught to cover the fury I felt. “She who faces Jalav will be struck by Jalav, as it has ever been! Is it your belief that I stand not only behind the shield of Mida, but behind her swordarm as well?”

In the face of this demand did Rogon stand in silence for a moment, her anger undiminished yet briefly halted as she considered her words. To say that a Midanna stood behind the swordarm of another was to call her a hanger-on, a coward, one unworthy of the blooding of her life sign. Had Rogon spoken such words to me before I had been chosen by Mida, her blood would have long since stained my blade.

“The war leader Jalav does not stand behind the swordarm of another,” said Rogon at last, slowly, reluctantly, unwilling to give over her anger. “She, like all loyal Midanna, stands solely behind the shield of Mida—yet farther behind than any Midanna warrior known to us. We do not fear you, Jalav, and yet—to face Jalav is not to face Mida.”

“Rogon speaks the truth,” said I, nodding grimly. “Jalav wears a sword, whereas Mida wears none. Mida has not Jalav’s need for a sword. Jalav was given a difficult task to see to, yet was Jalav assured of the assistance of sister Midanna, for Jalav is not Mida and cannot see to the task alone. Did you doubt that this task was given me, Rogon, that you and your sisters now stand in awe of the proof that Mida continues to watch over her warrior? Has it yet come to you that by cause of the task given me, I am denied the glory of death in battle? The burden of Mida’s love is a heavy one; must you add to it by seeing me as that which I am not?”

Rogon’s dark eyes gazed full upon me, her stare and silence well shared by those who stood with her, all anger seemingly having drained from their bodies. A war leader must have the obedience of those who follow her, that and their respect; all else is a drain upon the strength of a clan, a blot upon their battle spirit. Was I to receive the awe and fear of those about me, surely would my cause be more easily seen to without them. This, I felt, was at last understood by those who were called war leaders, those who would have stood like children before me. Many of them breathed deeply, straightening their bodies as befitted warriors of Mida, and then did Tilim step the closer to stand beside Rogon.

“Jalav, I for one ask that we begin this meeting as though for the first time,” said Tilim, her head held high. “It seems I have taken too many males for my pleasure, rattling my wits through the length of their use. I have no memory of that which occurred when first I entered this chamber.”

“And I!” said another with a laugh, and “I, too!” said a third, and soon were each of them filled with laughter and agreement, standing about as though in a use tent, rather than in the presence of a Keeper. Filled with pleasure and pride, I quickly drained the pot of renth I had taken, gestured to them to join me upon the floor cloth, then began a discussion of that which I hoped to accomplish come the new light.

It was clear to all that there was little time for lengthy discussions, therefore did they hear me out with no more than frowns to indicate their lack of understanding. Warriors see matters differently than do males, yet was it to be males with whom we were faced come the new light, therefore was it necessary that these war leaders be told of male beliefs. No warrior would be swayed from her purpose on Mida’s behalf by a threat to the life of one of her sisters, for her sister’s fate would surely be in the hands of Mida. With her purpose seen to, she would then take what revenge was called for, yet would that purpose be seen to first. Also, should a warrior be challenged, that challenge would not be refused though the warrior knew she would undoubtedly be bested and slain. Each instance was no more than that effort demanded by a sense of honor, yet males were well known to have naught of honor within them. My warriors were bewildered and somewhat disbelieving when I rose to my feet to quit the chamber, yet did they follow me without reluctance, intending to find, themselves, the truth of the matters I had spoken of. I felt no insult at their disbelief, for the doings of males must be seen to give proof to the contention that even they might be so low and without honor. My warriors knew little of the doings of males, yet would they learn.

Through the guidance of those who had learned their way about the immense dwelling, returning to the chamber of slaves was not as long a journey as the original search had been. The chamber itself was dimly lit, no more than a hand of torches illuminating the erect forms of the guard I had placed about the enclosure of he called High Seat. The portly male, within his enclosure, slept as soundly upon the metal flooring as any of the slaves longer tenanted within the chamber, unaware of those who stood and regarded him. Once I had seen that he was as I had left him, I looked again about the chamber, for surely did it seem to contain a greater number of males than it had the darkness previous.

“Indeed have we added to their number, Jalav,” said Palar, she who was war leader to the Hunda. Her voice, held low, nevertheless contained a chuckle, possibly due to fond memory. “It was discovered that a large number of males had been taken captive, yet had they been left bound where taken. When gathering up these captives, disposition was a considerable problem till this chamber was recalled. When approached by those with captives to be quartered, we who remained here were unreluctant to accept charge of them.”

“How many hind of sleep have you had, Palar?” I asked, continuing to look about. “There shall undoubtedly be battle before darkness comes again.”

“I have never yet fallen asleep in the midst of battle, Jalav,” she replied with a laugh, her voice truly unconcerned. “With so many males available for use, I could not deny my warriors—nor myself. My clan sisters and I believe that one should never enter battle with unused males left behind.”

“So that one may find the glory of death as a warrior without regret for that which was left undone,” I nodded, my attention elsewhere. “The Hosta believe the same, Palar. What of those four males yonder, they who earlier wore black cloth about their loins? They lie within their enclosure as though felled by blows to the head. Were they used, or merely stripped?”

“Were it possible to point to those who were most used, it would likely be they,” said Palar, a warm laziness having entered her tone. “In the absence of the sthuvad drug a warrior must make do, yet those four needed naught of encouragement. They fought at being taken upon their backs, as though they were temple slaves set to warrior pleasure, so they shouted, yet were they unable to halt the desires of their bodies. I know not how many warriors tasted of them before they were returned to their enclosure and allowed to sleep.”

I nodded silently at Palar’s words, piqued that I had forgotten to disallow the use of the Sigurri. They were sure to be displeased over the matter, perhaps even so far as to seek vengeance upon the journey south, yet was the thing done past recalling. Should their desire for vengeance prove too great, they would learn that no more than one of them was necessary to act as guide, and that that one need not be hale and free. I looked again upon their sleeping forms, seeing how their great muscled bodies sprawled in the chains they wore, exhausted, taken, spent, then turned from them to more pressing matters.

“The new light will soon be upon us,” said I to Palar, anod toward the portly male, he called High Seat. “Remove yon male from the comfort of his rest and bring him behind me. His presence will soon be required.”

“At once, Jalav,” said Palar, and then did she gesture to those who stood as guard about the enclosure. With that small chore seen to I left the chamber to seek the others of my war leaders, they who had been sent ahead to arrange matters according to my instructions. Each means of entry was to be guarded, and well, for the conviction had come to me that the males of the city, knowing naught of what they faced, would attempt attack upon the dwelling we held, in an effort to reclaim it. I knew not whether the attack would come before their attempt at parley or during it, yet was I convinced that such an attack would come. Quickly did I see that each set of guards about an entry had had a runner assigned to them, one warrior who would not draw her weapon at an attack, instead taking herself quickly off to draw additional warriors from those stationed in the center of the dwelling. Not all additional warriors would race to the defense of a single entry, for wisest would the males be should they attack a second and perhaps third and fourth point after the initial attack, which would be designed to draw all defenders to the first point. The great majority of my warriors were to be found in the center of the dwelling, most taking their ease upon the floor cloth, some helping themselves to provender which had been found and brought to them, all filled with satisfaction at the thought of further battle. Should the males attack as I believed they would, they would soon learn the folly of facing Midanna warriors.

With all inspections satisfactorily seen to, I then made my way to the large front entrance of the dwelling, that by which I, myself, had entered. All torches had been removed from the walls of the area immediately about the entrance, as had been done with the other entries, yet was I easily able to see the large number of warriors who stood about in readiness. The air from without brought a fresh, dewy smell to raise one from the depths of stale city air and the confinement of dwellings, a small breeze from the still-dark skies wafting about in an attempt to stir the hair of those hidden from it by encircling walls. My spirit rose in protest over the need to remain longer within a city of males who cared naught for freedom, yet was there a task to be completed before the untamed forests might again be mine.

“Jalav, all has been seen to,” came the voice of Rogon, her form coming out of the darkness to stand by my side. “Those who had guarded the gates from within now guard them from without, bows in their hands and arrows knocked, their positions difficult to make out even for a warrior. Should the males attempt to flee to fetch the aid of others, none of their number will survive the attempt.”

“Well done,” said I, moving the closer to the opening which was the entrance to the dwelling. Once there, I was able to stare out at the darkness surrounding us, a darkness filled with more than the stirrings of the feathered children of the wild. The grass, I knew, was damp and chill with the touch of dew; perhaps it was this discomfort which kept the males who lay within the darkness from remaining still and unobserved. Even as I watched, a patch of shadow lifted briefly before lowering to stillness once more, a gleam of metal momentarily exposed by the movement. Did they think us deaf and blind, that we would be unaware of their presence?

“Their arrival about this dwelling was immediately noted,” said Rogon, her eyes seeing what mine had seen. “How is it possible for ones such as they to hunt the forests? Such absence of skill should have seen them dead from lack of sustenance long ago.”

“There are those who hunt for them,” said I, closing my eyes to the breeze which caressed my face. “These are undoubtedly males who know naught save the ways of a city, naught of that which is necessary to survive beyond these walls. They are males, Rogon; how might they be a match to warriors?”

“How, indeed,” said Rogon, scorn heavy in her voice. Our sisters had moved through their ranks both going to and coming from those at the gates, and they none the wiser; how was a warrior to consider them with anything other than scorn? Had their numbers been fewer, the confrontation I anticipated would have been totally unnecessary.

I left the entrance to walk the floor cloth of the corridor, commanding myself to patience as I would have upon the hunt. Our quarry was well within reach, but it was necessary to allow them to strike first. Around and about the waiting warriors I walked, aware of their breathing and mine, aware of the odd feel of a floor cloth beneath my bare feet, aware of how little of the fresh breeze was able to penetrate the dwelling. How was it possible for one to live so forever, locked away from the clean, open air and wide stretches of Mida’s true world, walled in through choice rather than imprisonment? It was a matter I had been unable to comprehend, much as I had tried. As well to be beneath the ground in chains, as to be kept in such a dwelling forever.

My pacing had covered much roundabout distance before the faint sounds of distant battle reached us. The beginning of the new fey had just touched light to the skies, clearly the signal the males had awaited. The warriors about me stirred, as though forcing themselves to remain in place, and much did I, too, feel the sharp desire to race toward the battle we knew had begun. It was highly unlikely that any force would attempt entrance at our post, yet the sole male in the area seemed to have little understanding of this point. He called High Seat had stood slumped and silent in our midst, his long covering askew upon him beneath the chains, his entire demeanor one of defeat; now did his features grow anxious and hopeful in the faint light, as though rescue might soon be his. Surely, any with intelligence would see that attack had been expected by us and therefore might not be relied upon as a means of rescue, yet there the male stood, a furtive, crafty, look to his narrowed eye, a sly, evil smile to his fleshy lips, his round, delicate hands turned to fists within their manacles. The male anticipated freedom and subsequent vengeance, yet such would never be his; should the Midanna be in danger of losing that which they had taken, I would see the portly male first to have his throat opened. Never again would a warrior stand in judgment before him, to be declared slave by him, to be lashed for his pleasure. The male was unworthy of life himself, and would no longer be allowed the taking of life from others.

The sounds of battle continued as the light strengthened, yet the males in the grass before the dwelling made no attempt to add to them. They held their positions with as little skill as they had shown in the darkness, heads raising up to peer about, swords glinting in the brightening light, arms and backs and legs in turn presenting themselves as targets. Surely did I begin to believe they meant themselves to be seen, and yet, when a bloodied male appeared from the side of the dwelling, to stagger and fall nearly upon them, they quickly hugged the ground as though attempting invisibility. It was clear the bloodied male was beyond all assistance, yet do I believe they would have broken cover had he merely been wounded. Those who cannot place their wounded in Mida’s care till battle is done are bereft indeed, of hope, of intelligent battle, and of all possibility of victory.

With the light of the new fey full in the skies, silence had once again returned. Runners had come to bring word that each of the five points of attack had been successfully defended, the last and farthest entry seeing the greatest number of males in the attempt. In accordance with my instructions, no prisoners had been taken, those coming in attack being either slain or driven off. No warrior had fallen to the blade of a male, and this fact had done much damage to the intentions of the males. They had been taught to fear the skill of a warrior, and this fear would aid in their total conquest.

Much discussion had gone on among the males upon the grass, disagreement rife among their number, yet was their final decision inevitable. All slowly regained their feet to stretch the stiffness from their bodies, all eyes nervously upon the dwelling in which we stood, and then did one of their number, a blue cloth held high above his head, begin to approach us. Slowly and deliberately did the male move, his broad face set in lines of grimness as his arm waved the cloth above his head, his forward movement ceasing only when he stood upon the stones before the wide steps of the dwelling. Clad in a dirt-stained, wet and hanging covering of city males was he, dark red and of midthigh length, closing at his side, where hung a blade and scabbard stiff and shiny in their seeming newness. I knew not the meaning of the waving cloth, for surely were we aware of his presence without it, yet the matter was unimportant. The male had come to parley, which was proven by the first of his words.

“You within the palace!” he called, his voice harsh and filled with anger. “Send your leader forth to speak with us, else shall it go harder with you!”

My warriors muttered in disapproval at this, for surely had the males been bested in battle by us, yet the bluster was full familiar to me. Males must ever voice threats to warriors, for true reason is completely beyond them. I nodded to Rogon, indicating that she was to be prepared for that task given her, gestured toward the hand of warriors who were to accompany me, then stepped from the entrance to the length of smooth stone above the waiting male. I paused a pace from the first of the steps, rested my left hand upon my sword hilt, and looked down upon the male.

“What is it you wish?” I inquired, impatiently. The male stared up at me with a frown, his eyes moving from the dagger in its leg bands upon my right leg, to the sword scabbarded about my waist above the breech, to the life sign which swung between my breasts, to the silver rings of a war leader in my ears. His tongue appeared to wet his lips, showing again how well pleased males were by the sight of Jalav, and then he cleared his throat.

“We have come to demand the release of the High Seat,” he rasped, the blue cloth still firmly grasped in his fist. “Should you release him now, unharmed, you and your wenches will be allowed to depart unmolested. Our numbers are greater than yours, and sustenance will be denied you should you refuse us. Also, should it be necessary to wrest the palace from you by force, those of you who survive will be declared slave and thrown naked to the men of the city. Wisest would be that you give over this foolishness now, while you are still able.”

A moment did I stand regarding him, this male who attempted to take our victory with talk rather than sharpened metal, and then did I gesture a dismissal of his contention with all the contempt I felt so strongly within me.

“I have little time for the prattle of males!” I snapped, glaring down upon the fool of a speaker. “Do we not both know that you have attempted to retake this dwelling and have failed? You speak of disallowing us provender; we are Midanna warriors, and take what we wish, despite the objections of those about us! Should the matter come to a final battle, we will see this dwelling and all of your city in flames before the last of us falls. Our survivors to be declared slave indeed! Has it not yet entered your head that should our forces meet, there will be no survivors?”

The male, having gone ashen at my words, turned in desperation to those who had remained upon the grass. My voice had been pitched so that they, too, of necessity, might hear, yet did I feel much the fool for having spoken as I had. The boasting of males and warriors-to-be was sour upon my tongue, more a gesture of she who has little or no skill, rather than a doing fit for a war leader. It was necessary that these males be dealt with as they were wont to deal with others, yet was the action distasteful.

A hand of others had left their places when my speech was done, and quickly did they join he with the blue cloth. Little brotherly feeling was lost between they who came and he who waited, and much glaring was exchanged before one of the hand addressed himself to me.

“Lady, we ask your pardon for the harsh words addressed to you,” said this newcomer, his manner less confident than that of his predecessor. His covering was of a dark gray rather than the red of the first, yet his sword seemed to have had even less use than that of the other. “We seek no battle between our groups, merely the freeing of our leader, our High Seat. We trust that in your generosity no harm has come to him, and humbly ask your price for setting him free. Should your demands be within our power to supply, you shall have them.”

Much effort did it take to keep from sneering at this second male. Was this the manner in which to address an enemy, as a slave to a master? Were these males incapable of speaking to one as an equal, rather than with threats from master to slave, or pleadings from slave to master? Had I not stood in Mida’s cause, surely would I have walked from all of them, never to allow males within sight again.

“You ask our price for releasing the male you term High Seat,” said I, gazing evenly upon the second to have spoken. “Should our price be the enslavement of every third male within your city, would you meet it?”

“Every third— Unthinkable!” snapped the first male, immediately bristling. “We would not. . . .”

“Hold your tongue!” shouted the second male to the first, his face reddening. When he saw himself obeyed, he again turned to me. “Lady, such a demand must first be discussed among the Council of the city. I, myself, though at their head, cannot speak for them. Is this your sole demand?”

“I have not yet stated a demand,” said I, folding my arms beneath my life sign. “Out of curiosity, I merely advanced a supposition. For what reason would you consider one useless, portly male the equal of every third male of your city? The gross creature even appears useless for breeding.”

Signs of shock appeared upon the second male’s features, yet did one or two of those behind him cough into their hands, as though to hide their own lack of shock. He who had spoken first appeared unsure as to whether to laugh or fall to anger, yet the second was able to find words before the first.

“Young woman, have a care how you speak!” said he, great indignation upon him. “This is the High Seat we discuss, the Blessed One of the Serene Oneness! Contrary to the belief of those who scoff, the Serene Oneness does indeed hear words spoken against his chosen—and punishes them!”

“Ah, now do I see,” said I, nodding in thoughtfulness. “You believe the male chosen and protected by your god. Is this so?”

“Indeed,” nodded the male in turn, pleased that his point had been so easily grasped. The point, however, understood by me only by cause of a knowledge of the irrationality of males, was still somewhat unclear.

“Among Midanna, one’s actions are the sole judge of value,” I observed, uselessly, for these were males I spoke with. “However, I fail to see the connection between your assertion and your efforts. Were the male truly chosen and protected by your god, there would be no call for your presence now before me. Should a Midanna be taken by the enemy and her clan fail to free her with a major effort, surely would it be clear to them that Mida had turned her face from that warrior. You view such signs differently?”

“Most certainly,” nodded the second male, the sobriety upon him doing naught to firm up the overall weakness of his features. “We consider this disaster as a testing from the Serene Oneness, a seeking for the true depth of our devotion to the Blessed One. Should we fail, we are not worthy of him.”

“Again I find your words meaningless,” said I, my head ashake. “I had thought no more than a small set of your males would decide upon what price I set for the life of your High Seat, yet now does it seem that all males within the city shall have their say. In what manner will this be accomplished?”

“In no manner,” said the mate, a small upset appearing within his eyes. “You were initially correct; our Council alone will be responsible for what decision is made.”

“Then you speak foolishness!” I snapped, truly losing patience with the oaf. “Should all think themselves tested, all must respond; should only a small portion respond, the testing has failed. Even a child would have the wit to see this. Your response, as the response of all males, is totally lacking in reasoning thought. It has not even occurred to you that you place the burden of testing upon the wrong shoulders.”

“What do you say, wench?” demanded the first male, he who continued to clutch the cloth of blue. The second male, unresponsive to my words, stood beside him with a look of deep anxiety. “How might we have misinterpreted this time of testing? Are you not here, deep within our city? Have you not taken the High Seat captive?”

“Indeed.” I nodded, now looking down upon this other. “Among the Midanna, Mida will often test her warriors, yet never does the testing fall upon all the warriors of a single clan. No more than a hand of warriors will find themselves done so, more often a single warrior, most often a war leader. To lead others in the name of Mida is a great honor, an honor one must continually prove herself fit for. Is this god of yours less demanding than Mida? When was this Blessed One of yours last tested to prove his worthiness?”

A silence fell upon the males before me, no expression touching them save that their eyes were grim. Each looked briefly upon the others and then looked away, to withdraw within a shell of wordlessness that spoke more clearly than shouting.

“I see,” said I, moving my gaze about among them. “He has not been tested since the time he won the glory of his place. Surely, great skill was shown at that time, yet from his appearance, the time must have been many kalod—”

My words broke off at the stir of discomfort and seeming guilt suddenly appearing upon the faces of the males, the manner in which they flushed and looked down toward the ground their leather-shod feet stood upon. A sudden thought came to me, one too foolish to give credence to, and yet . . . . Were these not males?

“It cannot be that the male did naught to earn his place,” I said, the flatness of my tone a lash upon the backs of those before me, causing them to flinch as though struck. “You are males, I know, yet even males must demand a gesture from those who lead them. Did the portly one ask most politely for the place? Were his tears of desire heavier than those of other petitioners? In what pale, foolish manner were his merits judged?”

“You may not speak to us so!” blustered the second of the males, he of the weak features and unused sword. “We are not savages, to demand the spilling of blood from our High Seat! The previous High Seat, father to he who currently holds the place, took the weight of spilled blood upon his own soul to keep his son from the necessity! As a true son to his father, the place was his by right!”

“By right,” I echoed, still flatly, again resting my left hand upon my sword hilt. “In such unexpected ways are we shown the true wisdom of Mida. It is undoubtedly for this reason that war leaders are denied issue, to keep them from the folly of desiring their daughters, fit or unfit, to follow their steps to glory. Far better to have no issue at all than to foist off upon one’s clan a creature of no ability and no sense of personal accomplishment. It is clear that he who came before the gross male was undoubtedly smiled upon by your god, for his cause was supported and victory was vouchsafed him; in no manner might the same be said of his issue.”

“That is not so!” began the second male, heatedly and in great agitation, yet the first male, he of the blue cloth, turned upon the second in anger.

“You are a fool, Thierlan!” he snapped, much of a growl edging his voice. “Must the Serene Oneness himself appear before you, to prove your folly beyond all doubt? That you owe your position to the High Seat is known to all; should you now refuse to honor that position and act in the best interests of the city, you may share the fate of that fat, slavemaking hanger-on. Speak now, Thierlan: which will it be?”

The second male, he addressed as Thierlan, stared agonizedly at the first, his face working as he stared. The others of those who stood about also stared, yet solely at him called Thierlan, a thing the male was well aware of. A decision has been demanded of him, yet did he seek to delay the voicing of it.

“He is the High Seat, Relidose!” he begged toward the first male, a hand held out in supplication. “He is the Blessed One of the Serene Oneness! After so many kalod of paying him homage, how might we now, in honor, turn our backs upon him? The Serene Oneness would surely shrivel our souls for such a doing! Had he not been chosen, would he have been allowed so long a reign? Would he not have been brought down much the sooner? We are being tested, I tell you, and dare not fail!”

“And yet the words of yon savage wench have a ring of rightness to them,” said this Relidose in answer, looking down and seemingly seeing the blue cloth in his hand for the first time. He cast it from him with a sharp gesture, then looked again upon Thierlan. “I have ever found it difficult to believe that the Serene Oneness would choose one such as Gabilar as the High Seat, yet did it seem that no other thing than that had been done. Now the truth of the matter is in greater doubt, and I am unable to resolve the conflict. Is there no manner of determining the truth where all may see the outcome and know it forsooth?”

“The truth may easily be determined,” said I, again bringing their eyes to me. “For warriors who know the reality of Mida, the truth is ever in their grasps. The truth is not as easily reached by males, however, who find reality in naught save that which they may put hands upon.”

“Our belief in the Serene Oneness is as strong as your belief in your savage goddess, wench!” snapped this Relidose, Thierlan anod beside him. “The sole difference is the fact that the Serene Oneness truly exists! In what small, female manner would you attempt to resolve our differences of opinion?”

“You seem intent upon offering me insult, male,” I said, my gaze held hard to his. “Should this truly be your intent, speak out now and plainly, for I will not overlook your manner again. Do you wish to face me with swords, to determine who will stand and who will fall? Should this not be your intention, I must hear that as well. I am war leader of all Midanna, and will not be spoken to as though I were city slave-woman.”

The male continued to meet my gaze, though he frowned as though some matter were unclear. I had spoken softly, as befitted a war leader who had offered challenge, yet the seriousness of my intent was not missed by the male.

“I—did not speak to give you deliberate insult,” said he, little friendliness to be heard in his tone. “It would give me great pleasure to face you, wench, if for no other reason than to teach you your proper place, yet this is scarcely the time for such petty squabbles. What suggestion have you?”

“The proper time may indeed present itself, male,” said I with a nod. “I shall then be pleased to accommodate you. As for now, my thoughts are as follows: should your god smile upon the male, he will protect him in what battle he faces, giving him victory as he gives him the life of the one who opposes him. Do you agree in this, or do you find the concept too far beyond you?”

“The concept is clear,” said the male Thierlan hurriedly, disallowing the heated retort in the throat of Relidose. “It does not follow, however, that the High Seat will agree to personal combat. Should he refuse, it may well be the Serene Oneness speaking through him, frowning upon so barbaric an action. How may we know?”

“The thought comes that those within hearing already have such knowledge,” I remarked, then raised my hand to forestall argument upon the point. “In any event, we shall soon see which way the lellin wings. Rogon! Bring forth your captive!”

The males, taken by surprise, immediately looked beyond me to see the appearance of their High Seat, his gross form held in chains, his reluctance to advance overcome by the dagger held in his back by Rogon. She, in obedience to my word, had stood ready to come forth at my command, through the ranks of the hand of warriors who had accompanied me. The gross male blinked at the brightness of the fey as he stumbled forward, urged on by a dagger, and then did his narrowed gaze fall upon those who stared up at him. His shuffling progress came to a halt, his body straightened to its fullest extent, and then did he glare at those who gaped at him.

“Why have I not yet been freed of this odious captivity?” he demanded, much like a petulant child who has not yet felt the weight of a hand in punishment. “Why do you merely stand there in easy converse with my enemies, rather than attempting to aid me? When this is done I shall have all your heads, the Serene Oneness strike me down if I do not!”

“Blessed One, we are here for no other purpose than to attempt your release,” whined Thierlan, cringing as the others about him frowned. True fear had been well taught me in the realm of Sigurr, yet was it a fear other than that bred by living beings like myself. This Thierlan feared the gross male and his power, a power Thierlan believed transcended that which had been stripped from the High Seat. The fear must be conquered before the male might be commanded by others, and this, Mida willing, would soon be done.

“You have been allowed from the dwelling to answer a challenge,” said I to the gross male, drawing his furious gaze. “It has been suggested by these others that you are the chosen of your god, and are looked upon by him as his favorite. Is this—”

“Indeed is it so!” spat the male, his features screwing up the tighter. “All those who oppose me will fall before the might of the Serene Oneness—and all those who fail to aid me, as well!”

Again did he glare upon the male Thierlan, pleased by the trembling brought to the limbs of the male, knowing full well the fear he put upon him. Indeed was the gross male a maker of slaves, and one who joyed in it as well. It would be pleasant to note how long his joy continued.

“Excellent,” said I, the word bringing an immediate frown to the gross male. “I am the chosen of the goddess Mida, sent here to challenge you for possession of this city. You and I are to meet with swords, the survivor of the meeting to be the undisputed possessor of the prize. Are you now prepared to face me?”

“Face you?” shrilled the portly male, atremble with the fury ablaze in his eyes. “I am to face you in chains, the swords of these others at my back and throat, poised to strike when I have won?”

“The chains will, of course, be removed,” said I with speed, disallowing the balance of his words which I was able to see poised upon his lips. “My warriors are forbidden to interfere, for that would be contrary to our beliefs. Should you stand the winner, they will each and every one withdraw from the city.”

The male sputtered and foamed, all too well aware of the mutter of surprise which came from those males who listened and watched. Their city would be free of those they were unable to best by swords, yet only should their leader face me and stand victorious. To refuse was to give over their city to strangers as a gift, and even to males such a thing would be unpalatable.

“Do you mean to say they would depart without further bloodshed?” demanded Relidose, his suspicions clear in the tone he used. “You would have us believe you have come so far, only to turn your backs upon the accomplishment over the outcome of a single meeting of blades?”

“Certainly.” I shrugged, surprised and yet not surprised that the male failed to understand. “Should I be bested, it would show that Mida no longer smiled upon me. My warriors, in all honor, could do no other thing than depart, for our word has been pledged. The word of a warrior is somewhat different from the word of a male.”

“Your insolence will be your undoing, wench,” growled this Relidose, for some reason annoyed. “I would dearly love to—well, no matter. The point at hand is the doing of the High Seat. What say you, Blessed One? You will, of course, agree to the meeting and free our city?”

“You dare to dictate to me?” sputtered the portly male, now red of face due to his rage. “This decision, like all others, is mine to make, you low-born fool! Perhaps you are credulous enough to believe the words of savage sluts! I am not! Attack them now and have done with it!”

“We have attacked!” snapped Relidose, dark with anger and impatience. “The attack has come to naught and now are we faced with dealing with these wenches! Should you fail to accept the challenge given you, our city—and your own precious hide—will remain in their capture! Now, how say you?”

“Hold, hold, I pray you, hear my words!” said Thierlan, fearfully interrupting the harsh exchange between the two other males. “It is true, Blessed One, that this may be our sole opportunity for victory, yet is it also true, Relidose, that the Blessed One may be denied the spilling of blood by the Serene Oneness. With such an impasse before us, there is but one suggestion to be made: the High Seat must have a champion.”

“A champion!” breathed the gross male, delight replacing the fury he had felt. “Of course! As the Serene Oneness denies me the spilling of blood, I must have a champion! It is all quite simple, you fool, Relidose. I shall have a champion who will best this savage, and then our city will be freed.”

“You have not yet inquired as to the acceptability of a champion,” growled Relidose, in disapproval. “Perhaps the concept is beyond the ken of these wenches.”

“Such a thing is easily done,” quavered Thierlan, anxious, now, to see the matter resolved. “How say you, my lady? The High Seat will have another stand in his place against you, one who will stand as though he were High Seat. Will you meet him?”

“This other will stand with the blessing of your god?” I asked, as though unsure of the proper response. “His besting will be looked upon as the besting of this one, complete and uncontested?”

“Complete and uncontested,” agreed Thierlan eagerly, the gross male looking on with stiff haughtiness. “He who stands as champion for the High Seat stands with the blessing of the Serene Oneness, of that there is no doubt. Will you accept?”

“I will,” said I with a nod. “Go and fetch this—champion, for I would have this foolishness over and done with.”

“At once!” shouted Thierlan, his face bright with joy. “I will return immediately with your champion, Blessed One, and you will soon be free.”

Quickly did the male take himself off, two of the others trotting behind him, all knowing there would be no words of thanks nor encouragement from the gross male. As I left the place I had stood before the steps and made my way toward the dwelling, I gestured Rogon to accompany me, first indicating that the hand of warriors were to take her place about the High Seat. Rogon and I entered the dwelling in silence, yet once within her anger could no longer be contained.

“Your words were true, Jalav,” said she, whirling to face me with fists upon hips, “and yet I am scarcely able to credit such vileness! To bargain the lives of others for a single life! To allow another to stand for you in a matter of honor! These males are less than the children of the wild!”

“They are males,” I shrugged, amused by her anger. “To expect them to behave as warriors do is idle. You must now send runners to those who guard the entrances to this dwelling, warning them that the males may attack again once I have bared swords with the one who will come. Such a dishonorable act, after pledging to abide by the outcome of the challenge, is not beyond the doing of males. They must therefore remain alert.”

She stood with mouth agape, staring in disbelief, then shook her head to indicate her feelings before moving off to dispatch the runners. I turned again to the glory of the new fey, the blue of the skies, the freshness of the air, the growing warmth which would soon dry the damp of the darkness. How fortunate was the warrior who might consider no more than such things of joy, untroubled by the dishonors of males and gods. Happily would Jalav have done so, yet Jalav was like the gross male, chosen and blessed and therefore disallowed the simple life. The gross male preferred it so, yet was the gross male demonstrably a fool.

“The runners are sent, Jalav,” said Rogon from behind me, anger no longer coloring her tones. “Have you any further instructions?”

“No more than a last word of caution,” I sighed, turning from the new fey to look down upon her. “Should it be Mida’s will that I be bested, you and the others are to withdraw most carefully, in no manner trusting to the males for safe passage. Hold the portly one captive till all have withdrawn beyond the walls, only then turning him free. I would not have warrior lives uselessly spent.”

“Jalav, do you doubt Mida’s favor?” Rogon asked, wide-eyed in the dimness and nearly agasp. “Did she not send you to lead us in the taking of this city? Did she not heal your wound? Did she not . . . . ”

“Rogon,” said I, ending the flow of words. “All you say is true, and yet—the thoughts of the gods are beyond simple warriors such as you and I. What was earlier desired, may now be displeasing. I do not speak from certain knowledge, merely do I seek to leave no matter of importance untouched. You will remember my words?”

“I shall indeed remember,” nodded Rogon, at ease, now, with the thought. A good war leader strove to consider all possibilities before entering battle, and in such a light did Rogon see my commands. I, however, recalled the goddess Mida, and knew not how she would have me serve her desires. Best to be cautious in the face of uncertainty.

With all seen to, I again emerged from the dwelling, Rogon by my side. Across the grass, in the near distance, a set moved toward us, the male Thierlan clearly attempting to hurry their pace. All seemed prepared to obey him save the male in the center of the set, a large male covered in leather and metal, one with an easy stride, one of seeming unconcern. Gazing in curiosity, I moved to the top of the steps, and there was joined by the male Relidose, who climbed slowly to stand beside me.

“If I am not mistaken, that is Hanitor, a captain of the High Seat’s guard and the finest sword in the city,” said Relidose, turning to regard me. The male stood barely a finger taller than I, a fact he seemed to have been unaware of. “He must have passed the darkness on leave in the House of Heaven Pleasure, else would he have been with the others in the Palace. Were the choice mine, wench, I would sooner pledge myself slave than face him. That you are female will not slow his blade.”

“And I,” I replied without looking upon him, “knowing full well the mercy given slaves by males, would sooner face Mida’s blade than fall so again. Do not speak with no knowledge.”

“So you have been slave,” he mused, continuing to stare. “He who held you taught you little, wench, for that insolence seems a very part of you. Is this the reason for your hatred of men?”

“I have no hatred for males,” I snorted, sparing him a quick glance. “I merely know them for that which they are: without honor and self-seeking beyond belief. I have no need of so useless an emotion as hatred.”

“For one with no need of a thing, your supply seems more than adequate,” said he, a dryness to his tone. “This Hanitor will feel none of the burn from the flame of your bitterness, girl; his sword will merely seek and find the heart of it. Are there no men among your tribe who might stand for you?”

Annoyance flared within me at his words, yet was it clear that the male made no true attempt at insult. I knew not how it was possible to live so, forever seeking others to stand for one, yet was that the way of males. To offer oneself in place of another is at times a means to glory; to seek another for the doing one should see to, no more than shame unending.

“For what reason would warriors be so foolish as to wish males among them?” I asked, feeling the warmth of Mida’s light bring new strength and pleasure to my body. “Our sets are clans, not tribes, and never would I so dishonor myself as to seek another to hold my place in battle, and surely not a male. Yet, even were I to consider so vile an act, no male has yet proven himself the equal of Jalav in sword skill, therefore would it be impossible to choose such a one.”

“It is difficult to credit the calm assurance you speak with,” said he, attempting to keep the sharpness from his tone as he eyed the manner in which I stretched toward the rich, blue skies, raising my arms and face to Mida’s healing light. “You have announced yourself war leader to this pack of ravening females, I know, yet surely must the number of men you have faced be few. I fear you have little knowledge of the strength and ability men are able to bring to battle. What if you should be slain?”

“Then I will attain the glory of death in battle.” I shrugged, at last turning full to face him. “Also, your leader will be assured his position, your city its freedom, and my warriors the knowledge that Mida no longer smiles upon me. Surely, such an outcome would find full approval in your eyes.”

“Full approval?” he growled, glowering upon me in something much like anger. “No, my high and mighty war leader Jalav, I do not find full approval in the thought of a wench’s coming death. It is enough that men must die in battle. I will stand for you with Hanitor. ”

Angrily did the male glare at me, broad face grim, brows lowered in menace, fists stiff upon hips. Perplexedly did I return his stare, for I had not the least idea of what he was about. For what reason would this male, this stranger and enemy, offer to stand for me? Was it glory he sought, recognition from his fellow males—or perhaps the freeing of his city through the spilling of his blood? Should the truth lie in the last supposition I would honor him for his courage, yet such a thing might not be.

“You do not have my let to stand for me,” I informed him, yet with something of a smile for the loyalty he showed for his city. “The matter is one between Mida and the one who is called the Serene Oneness.—and their combatants have already been chosen. Stand aside gladly, male, for the place is not an easy one.”

“Naught is unchangeable till blades have been bared,” he maintained stubbornly. “It is not. . . .”

“I see you, Relidose!” came the voice of the High Seat, causing us to turn toward him. The male stood amidst the hand of warriors I had left to guard him, his face screwed up as he peered narrowly at us. “I see how you converse with my enemies in low tones, and I will not forget! When these chains are struck from me, you shall first begin to wear yours!”

“It has come to me that all of us already wear chains, round Gabilar,” returned Relidose, standing forth to glare upon the portly male. “Till the coming of these wenches, we were each of us chained to the whims of one who is unworthy even to speak the name of the Serene Oneness. Should your champion be successful, it will mean naught save that he is worthy!”

“Heresy!” choked the portly male, frothing as his face reddened with rage. “Those words will see you immured in my dungeons for the rest of your miserable life, fool! Which, I promise you, will not be as short as you will pray it to be! Mark my words! Mark my words!”

The portly male trembled with his fury, eyes glaring madly, soft hands folded to fists in the manacles, body twisted as though to hurl his venom with main strength. The male Relidose stood silently afrown, seeing, perhaps for the first time, the madness which filled the male called High Seat. Rogon, now close beside me, thoughtfully fingered the hilt of her sword, no doubt considering the manner in which those afflicted with madness are seen to among the Midanna. A sharp edge quickly puts an end to the suffering madness brings, both for the warrior involved and for those about her. No other than males would put such a one in a position of supreme power.

“I have returned, Blessed One!” called the male Thierlan, hurrying to the foot of the steps. So intent upon what he was about was the male, that he failed to note the state of his High Seat. Quickly did his eyes come to me, and a smirk showed with the sweep of his arm. “If you will accompany me to the grass, lady, our champion will be pleased to face you.”

The male of leather and metal, he named Hanitor by Relidose, indeed stood upon the grass beyond the stoned area, arms afold upon his chest, eyes moving slowly about me, a faint grin playing across his face. Many males stood about him at a respectful distance, others streaming up to join those already in attendance, each of them filled full with confidence in him who would stand for their High Seat. With a nod I began to move toward the steps, yet found the hand of Relidose upon my arm.

“There is yet time to reconsider,” said he, strangely sober. “Give yourself as slave to Hanitor, else allow me to stand for you. In no other way will life be left to you.”

“All is as Mida wishes,” said I, gently removing my arm from his grasp. “Should it be her wish that I fall, I will fall. The sacrifice you propose on behalf of your city does you credit, male, yet is it contrary to the will of the gods. Another’s blood will be spilled this fey, and that blood will decide the outcome.”

Then I turned and walked from him, down the steps and toward the male of leather and metal. A frown had grown upon the face of the male Relidose, as though he lacked understanding of some matter, yet was the frown easily forgotten in the face of the smirk still visible upon the male Thierlan as I passed him at the bottom of the steps. Another would have been angered or put out that I failed to allow him to lead me to the confrontation he had arranged, yet the small male was capable of no such indication of pride. Hurriedly did he move to keep to my left as I walked, hopping about much like a child in playtime, largely ignored by all those who so eagerly awaited the coming battle. Across the stones I walked, disregarding their presence, my right hand reaching across to loosen my sword in its scabbard, and those males between me and the male Hanitor moved spritely to remove themselves from my path.

“And here we are at last,” chattered the male Thierlan as I halted upon the grass, perhaps three paces from the male who awaited me. “This, lady, is Hanitor, guard Captain to the High Seat and his chosen champion, he whom you have indicated you are willing to face.”

“Lady?” rumbled this Hanitor, grinning widely. Large indeed was the male, wide of shoulder and thick of arm, tall and broad, yet trim beneath the leather and metal, a plain, well-worn scabbard at his side, showing a hilt which had seen much handling. “I see you mistake her, little man. I see before me no more than a varaina, a pavilion-she, a cuddling slave let free of her chains. A man would be a fool to address this one as lady.”

A muted gasp ran around those within hearing, for surely was I expected to fall to fury over the words of the male. Hanitor sought to give me deliberate insult, undoubtedly in an effort to blind me with rage, yet was I no newly blooded warrior to be done so. A faint smile touched me as I rested my left hand upon the hilt of my sword, and glanced briefly toward Thierlan.

“This champion you have chosen speaks well and boldly,” said I, my gaze held to the male of leather and metal. “Should his sword prove to be as bold, it may take some small effort to best him.”

Again a flurry of sound arose, many fearful glances bent upon the male Hanitor, yet the male’s grin had widened rather than faltered. He, too, knew the folly of entering battle gripped in anger, and would no sooner fall to it than I.

“Ah, I believe we are now prepared to begin,” said Thierlan, his tone hesitant yet his words spilling over each other in his haste to speak them. “I ask all of you here to back a bit and allow them the freedom of movement they will require to . . . .”

“Hold,” said Hanitor, his calm rumble immediately halting the flow of instruction from Thierlan. The small, weak-featured male looked upon the larger with a good deal of anxiety, yet awaited in silence what words the other would speak; when they came, however, the words were addressed to me.

“Should you wish this farce to continue, girl,” said Hanitor, “go you now and fetch what armor you have. It will not keep the life within that well-rounded body of yours, yet will I await the fetching of it. I will have no man say afterward that undue advantage was taken.”

“I have no knowledge of this—armor of which you speak,” said I, ignoring the new murmurs which flowed about us. “Do you seek to delay our meeting, male? I had thought you prepared and willing.”

“This is armor, girl,” said he, striking himself upon the metal which covered his chest, amusement no longer with him. “And indeed am I prepared and willing, far more so than you. You cannot face an armored man bare-breasted.”

“I grow weary of being told what I may and may not do,” said I, allowing a sharpness to enter my tone. “As you find a need for that leather and metal which covers you, you may keep it; I find no similar need. Now: Are we to continue, or have you further objections?”

The male growled low in his throat, a sound of vexation and anger echoed in the dark of his eyes, then did he turn and walk from me, his hands at the leather and metal which covered his side. Another male came from the midst of the gapers to assist him, and quickly was the covering removed, leaving him in naught save light blue cloth body covering, leather foot coverings, and swordbelt. In such a manner did the male return to where he had stood, and still was there annoyance within him.

“I will not have men say undue advantage was taken,” he repeated, flexing arms and shoulders against the absence of accustomed weight. “I will not spare you, girl, of that you may be sure, yet was the choice to face me yours. We may now begin. ”

The male Thierlan again prepared to speak, yet did I step to my right and draw my blade as Hanitor drew his, the double action sending Thierlan scurrying to those who backed from reach of our swords. Many had seemed surprised that the thing might be begun so quickly, which showed them as the fools they were. To fight to the death was no play for children, to be begun at a word or gesture from another. To begin the thing one need only bare a blade, and that had already been done.

As ever in single combat, the presence of others was immediately ejected from my awareness. Well did I know that I gripped the silver and black hilt of the sword given me by Mida, and well aware was I of the grass beneath my feet, yet my eyes saw naught save the male Hanitor, the manner in which he stood, the manner in which he held his blade. The male moved quickly, seeking victory in immediate attack, his blade glinting in Mida’s light as he struck at me strongly, attempting to knock my sword aside, and such was the beginning of his downfall. To meet the blow would have been foolishness, therefore did I slide it and immediately slash in counterattack, opening his arm before he was able to turn his blade to defense. So quickly did the thing occur, a brief meeting and then we had parted, yet the edge of my blade now shone red in the early light, drawing a grimace of pain from the male and a gasp of shock from those who watched.

Ah, Mida! Ever shall the sight of blood upon my blade stir me to burning life, take all reason from my mind, and fill me with the joy that battle brings. The sound of the hadat’s capture croon escaped from my throat, the hissing growl telling the male before me that he was mine, and then did I begin my advance upon him, seeing naught of the paleness which began to take his features, the lack of understanding beginning to fill his eyes. A quick leap brought me within reach of him, and then did my blade begin the dance of death, a twisting and cavorting the male was hard-pressed to parry. Slash and cut, stab and slice, foot by foot was the male pressed backward, his arm working frenziedly to protect him from harm, his bewilderment so thick it nearly took my notice. How do these males face one another, one wonders, if not with eagerness to pierce flesh and spill blood? At that time I was able to wonder at naught, for the battle lust had taken me so deeply I was able to do no more than swing at the male, slashing here and there and adding to the first wound he had gotten. Each time he was touched his blade defense faltered; each time he was touched the hadat crooning grew stronger.

The battle was ended far sooner than I would have wished. Surely had I thought the male one to stand firmly before me, his sword a true challenge to mine, yet did he prove himself no more than the others. Panting, covered in sweat and blood, his backing across the grass was halted by a loss of footing, sending him sprawling to his back with arms flung up above his head. Quick as thought was I upon him, my sword raised high above his throat, and then was his head no longer a part of his body, the scream he had begun abruptly ended. The male had promised me no quarter in the battle, which was as it should have been, and yet did I believe he had expected quarter to be given to him, there just before the end. The thought touched me only lightly, however, for in victory there was an obligation to be met. Fiercely, proudly, did I stand above the body of he who had challenged me, and raised my arms and sword to the skies.

“For your chains, Mida!” I called in triumph. “Accept this worthless male from your Hosta war leader! Ever shall I spill blood to your glory!”

A deep and heavy silence greeted this dedication, strange in light of the number of gawping males who had witnessed the meeting, unexplained till I had taken my gaze from the skies and looked about me. Each male stood frozen in place, staring with shocked horror, taken by the sight of a victorious Midanna. Each seemed to shrink back as my gaze touched him, each save for the weak-featured Thierlan, who stood with back turned as he silently emptied himself of that which had been within. Once before had my battle prowess been received so, with shock rather than acclamation, and yet those who had done so had also been male. No warriors were about, no more than males, and what other thing might a warrior expect from a male than the look which named her savage?

“This meeting of blades has decided the fate of your city,” I called to those about me, my bloody sword yet grasped in my fist. “Those who follow Mida stand supreme above him who once was called blessed and chosen. Are there any others who would deny this contention?” Slowly did I look about me, allowing sufficient time for a response, unsurprisingly finding none save the shuffling of feet and a looking away. “Very well,” said I. “I would now have it known that we have not taken your city for all time. Strangers come, enemies who would do for all of us, those who would place the chains of slaves upon each and every one of us. It is we who shall face and best these enemies of all, my warriors and I, and then will your city be returned to you, to do with as you please. We have no desire for your city, yet must we have it till the strangers come. Should any of you attempt to force our departure before then, those fools will not live to see the end of battle. Go about what business you have, and do not again come before us bearing weapons. Those who do will go the way of this one.”

My sword indicated him who lay at my feet, him who in life had been known as Hanitor, and the gesture proved sufficient. The males turned numbly and began moving off, not yet to the point of speaking one to the other, not yet to the point of ceasing their trembling. Our time of difficulty with the males was not yet over, yet would there be some measure of quiet before they again bedeviled us. During this time of quiet, our position would be consolidated.

The male Thierlan trembled heavily when I approached him, calming only somewhat when he heard my command that he gather those who stood high in the city, and present himself and them to me in the overlarge dwelling as soon as possible. This he quickly agreed to, then scurried off amongst the others, losing himself in their midst in the blink of an eye. After that was I able to cleanse my sword in the sweet ground of Mida, resheathe it, and turn to the dwelling known as palace, taking a straight path through what covertly staring males yet remained. The screams from the dwelling had fallen on deaf ears, yet, as I approached, the sounds resolved themselves into words.

“Fools! Cowards! Blasphemers!” shrieked the portly male, he who had been the High Seat, struggling in his chains and the grips of my warriors. “Do not abandon me to these sluttish females! I demand that you return and free me! I, your High Seat, command you! Return and free me!”

Shocked fear spoke in the male’s screams, a forced realization that what had been no longer was. None would heed him, the male knew, yet was it necessary to what remained of his sanity that he make the attempt. Had I not known of the misery and agony he had caused to so many others, well might I have been moved to pity for him.

“Jalav, an excellent exercise!” called Rogon in high spirits, awaiting me beside the male Relidose as I climbed the steps. “You may now understand, male, why I spoke of your fears as foolishness. Jalav stands behind the shield of Mida, smiled upon as no other.”

“Indeed,” said Relidose, his tone even yet his gaze locked to my face: “And yet, from what I have seen, Jalav has little need of shielding from your Mida. I must admit, wench, that never have I seen the equal of your sword work. The sheer savagery of it overwhelmed Hanitor completely, sending him down to death by the unexpected ferocity of the attack. He, like me, undoubtedly anticipated a more feminine showing. We both were fools, yet is he now a dead fool.”

“And twice a fool for having removed his covering,” said I, at last standing with them at the top of the stairs. “In battle one must fight as one is accustomed to fighting, with or without trappings, else does one find oneself without balance and timing. The male would still have found himself bested, yet not quite so soon.”

Then did I turn to the hand of warriors about the portly male, and instruct them to return him to his enclosure within the chamber of slaves. This they accomplished with small difficulty though the male continued his ranting, and as I moved to follow, a hand was suddenly upon my arm.

“Wench—Jalav—I would ask a thing of you,” said this Relidose, the words coming to him with difficulty. “I—wish to accompany you.”

Though the male appeared to wish to speak further, no other words left his lips. He stood, broad and ruddy-cheeked, his dark gaze holding to mine with difficulty, a numbed surprise about him at what he had done, yet accompanied by an unwillingness to call back the words already spoken. Rogon, behind his shoulder, grinned knowingly, for what war leader of Midanna has not had a male trailing after her of his own volition, seeking to serve her both without and within her sleeping leather? I had no desire for the male Relidose, yet might his presence, properly used, prove beneficial to my efforts.

“For now you may accompany me,” I allowed, staring into the depth of his eyes with a soberness which caused him to remove his hand from my arm. “What the future may bring remains to be seen. Stay close and do not attempt insolence with any of the warriors who follow me. If you should be slain by one of them, the loss will be entirely yours.”

“I believe I understand,” said he, a small frown of pain coming to his large, dark eyes. “I am not the first man to follow you about waiting and hoping for your notice. Before that notice is received, I must earn it.”

“The position has not been forced upon you,” I shrugged, again seeing the manner in which his eyes moved about me. “Should you choose to follow, first remove that blade.”

With a gesture to Rogon, I strode off toward the entrance to the dwelling, making no effort to see whether the male followed. Were he to be of use to me, his presence must be entirely his own choice. Once within I paused to detail a strong guard for the entrance before dismissing the other warriors; when I turned from this task the male was there, unsure of the commitment he had made, yet silent and disarmed. Rogon, continuing to show her amusement, indicated that he was to follow behind me as I moved farther into the dwelling, yet I, myself, made no such acknowledgment of his presence. A male who accompanies a war leader must learn to efface himself, a lesson best learned when taught immediately.

Rediscovering the place of the chamber of slaves without guidance and without difficulty gave me a good deal of pleasure, nearly as much pleasure as speaking words of approval to those warriors I saw as I made my way through the dwelling. I had had each set of entrance guards replaced with other, fresher warriors, then had ordered that those without posts seek sustenance and sleep. The city males should by then have been thoroughly cowed, and yet how is one to know the minds of males? Best to be prepared should they take it in their heads to attack again, yet the clamor raised by those warriors who considered themselves denied the captures they had made nearly set the dwelling atremble. There was no refusal to obey among those warriors, of course, but their outraged moanings truly had me chuckling as I left them. They would obey my word, and completely, then once the unimportant matter of sleep was attended to, those males made captive would be used and well.

Within the chamber of slaves a bustle of activity had begun, showing that those occupants of the chamber were now fully awake. Slave females scurried about the enclosures in bright torchlight, bringing pots of heated grain to those who had not been allowed their limited freedom, carefully avoiding the warriors who stood about the chamber regarding them. All males who had been used the darkness before now sat chained about the walls of the chamber, all having been carefully served their sustenance before any of the others. Most knew well what this care portended, and few, if any, seemed pleased with the prospect. The portly male had been returned to his enclosure, and there he sat, upon the metal of the flooring, his body slumped and his eyes cast downward, aware of naught about him.

“Jalav, I am pleased you have returned,” called Palar as she spied me, crossing the floor of the chamber in lazy strides. “With all battle done for the while, we too have returned here—to see to our captives.”

The laughter of her warriors about the chamber was heavy with anticipation, causing a stirring of chain among the males in reaction. I, too, grinned with anticipation, yet not upon the selfsame point.

“Your dedication to lowly slaves is most gratifying, Palar,” said I, folding my arms beneath my life sign as she approached. “As you and your warriors must now seek sustenance and sleep as the other clans do, your dedication also proves itself selfless.”

“Sleep?” yelped Palar, halting abruptly with a stricken look, her Hunda mirroring her upset. “War leader—Jalav—there are males here as yet unused, and those who more than merit a second using—Sleep may be had at any time!”

“Palar, you speak truly,” I nodded, unable to shed the laughter brought me. “And this, war leader, is the time it may be had. I will require a small number of your warriors for a short time, and then you may indicate those who will stand first watch.”

“Ah, Jalav, I despair of you,” said she, her head ashake, a deliberate surliness to her tone. “I had not known that the spilling of blood would bring such a viciousness to your naturally sweet nature. What number of my warriors will you have?”

“Four,” said I with a laugh, “and a male of leather and metal as well. And see that the four are well rested enough to find themselves able to exhibit some small amount of sword skill. There is yet one portion of this dwelling untaken.”

Prepared to indicate further displeasure with my commands, Palar halted the foolishness upon hearing my words, indicated four warriors to attend me, then accompanied them to hear what instructions I would speak. They knew naught of the area below the dwelling called dungeons, yet were they able to quickly grasp the necessary means of entry to the area. Two warriors would be first to descend below the ground, moving silently and taking care that those who stood guard within the confines of the metal door saw and heard naught of their approach. Next to descend would be a third warrior and a male of leather and metal, she struggling as though captive to him, he armed as she was not. Those males within the metal door would surely see it open to admit their brother and his captive, and then would they discover the presence of others. The fourth warrior would remain unseen as she followed the path of the male and his supposed captive, to insure the proper behavior of the male. Such a manner of entry had been effective on a previous occasion; there was little reason to believe it would not be so again.

“And yet, should the males have learned to be more cautious, do not attempt to force an entry,” I ended. “Return here and inform me of the fact, and I shall seek other means.”

“As you command, war leader,” said the warriors, immediately taking themselves off to choose a male from among the captives. Palar stood silently, fingering the hilt of her sword, most likely considering the notion of accompanying her warriors to the area below. I, however, already being fully conversant with the damp and stink of the area called dungeons, had no interest in approaching them any sooner than need be. When they were taken would be time enough, time for doing what must be done, that which had long needed doing. The present would better be served by finding that which might be fed upon, as the short to-do with the male Hanitor had returned a small portion of the hunger which had earlier gripped me.

Farther within the chamber, not far from the midst of the chained males, stood a wide platform of carved wood, dark and rubbed with oils. Upon this platform had been placed a number of tall pots which were called goblets by city folk, a larger pot which often contained renth, and several metal boards of a golden color filled with that which was obviously meant to be fed upon. To this platform did I walk where, after filling a goblet with renth, I was able to choose a bevlin which was less shrunken than its fellows. The bevlin trees of the forests, most often found growing in small stands near glades, bear bevlind of great size; large, round and firm are they, of a deep and glowing orange color, sweet and refreshing to one who either hungers or thirsts. These bevlind of the cities were small, scrawny things by comparison, nearly shriveled and beyond the point where one might feed upon them, yet were their juices adequate for the oiling of my sword in the absence of proper oil. The leg of a forest paslat, too well cooked by far, as is the way of city males with meat and fowl, began to see to the hunger I had, and the dagger from my leg bands opened the bevlin as I perched myself upon the edge of the platform to observe the doings of Palar’s warriors as they chose a male to accompany them below-ground. The four had some small difficulty in choosing a male, for none wished to choose a male with proven ability in giving pleasure, lest the male attempt escape or duplicity and force them to end him. At length an untried male was chosen, yet did I believe from the shaken expression he wore that he would make no effort toward escape or betrayal. The warriors who accompanied him had made clear their intentions, and no other than a fool would doubt their sincerity.

I had done no more than spread the bevlin oil upon my sword when it came to me that I had no cloth to properly complete the doing. I looked about upon the platform and spied a length of yellow silk encumbered in some manner about its edging with stitching which formed the images of small field flowers, those called lancillead. For what reason one would wish lancillead upon silk I knew not, yet was it also true that I cared not. The length of silk would do nicely to rid my sword of the last vestiges of male blood. I reached it to me and set it to the oil, and then did a voice speak from not far distant.

“Never have I seen wenches so filled with concern over the proper care of weapons,” said the voice, a deep male voice I seemed to recall. “The others, too, did the same when first they returned to this chamber, though none with the draping of a wine slave, as you do. I would wager that sword has seen recent use.”

I raised my eyes to find the gaze of the red-haired Sigurri upon me, he who had spoken the fey previous, he who spoke now. Easily did he lean upon the wall to which he had been chained, his broad muscled body asprawl in seeming comfort, his right knee raised to support a wide forearm. The black loincloth which had been his had not been returned, yet did he seem less disturbed at the loss than his brothers, who sat, with thunder upon their brows, to his right. Well made indeed were these males, and again did it irk me that I had once more forgotten to attend to their disposition.

“Indeed has this sword seen recent use,” said I, attempting to rid my tone of the impatience self-anger sought to fill it with. “As I understand it, you and your males may also be spoken of in such a manner. Should it be your desire to avoid the same again, I am able to see it so.”

“Do you seek to lure me to your own side wench?” laughed the male, abrupt and surprised delight upon him. “Should that be your intention you need not ask. You need only remove that leather breech and replace it with that draping you have nearly ruined with blood and oil. The color suits you well. ”

“Lure you?” I asked, understanding naught of what amused the male. “For what reason would I attempt to lure a sthuvad already set to use? Had it been my desire to use you, there are none who might deny me. Am I to understand you have no desire to be released from sthuvad use?”

“Each of you will regret having done us so to begin with!” growled a second Sigurri, he of the darker hair, he who sat immediately beside the first. “To use warriors as though they were temple slaves is an insult which will not soon be forgotten! Should we ever escape these chains, Sigurr will see us avenged!”

The dark eyes of the male blazed with anger, a clank of chain underscoring his words as his fists tightened above the manacles. Indeed was the same to be seen in the eyes of each of them, perhaps not as strongly, yet indisputably there in the blaze of the torches. They would not beg for release, I saw, these males of Sigurr, and by that observation did I warm to them in some small measure.

“The oversight was mine,” said I to the dark-haired male, with a shrug. “What was done cannot be undone, therefore is it foolish to consider regret. Should it be your wish to face me with swords when you are released, I shall, of course, meet you. To allow you the challenge is the least I may do.”

The four Sigurri sat the straighter in frowning surprise, the looks exchanged between them as empty of understanding as the stares they sent to me. He of the dark hair was about to speak in answer, yet the red-haired male spoke before him.

“What oversight do you mean, wench?” he demanded, his air of ease completely gone. “Much does it seem as though we were meant to be other than captives and slaves, yet such makes no sense. Never have we seen you before your attack upon this place.”

“And what of this release you speak of?” added the darkhaired male, his fist now closed about the length of chain between his wrists. “To be released and allowed the right of challenge is a thing unknown in these parts!”

“We are no more native to these parts than are you,” said I, seeing it would be best if the entire tale were told. My sword was now clear of all traces of blood and dirt, therefore did I throw the bit of yellow silk from me, rise from the platform and resheathe the sword, then take what remained of the paslat leg and approach the males.

“I come from Mida and Sigurr,” said I, speaking softly as I crouched perhaps a pace before them. “I have visited their domain upon this world, and there was told of their desires concerning the Midanna and the Sigurri. We, the Midanna, have taken this city in anticipation of the arrival of powerful strangers, those who are enemy to both Mida and Sigurr. We, with the assistance of the Sigurri, are to defeat these strangers when they appear, for it is here they will first show themselves. I am to see to the release of the four of you, and then return with you to your city, where I may raise the host of Sigurr to stand with the warriors of Mida. In such a manner shall the coming strangers be vanquished.”

I took a further taste of the paslat as the Sigurri regarded me, bewilderment and confusion strong upon them. Each stirred in his place, their struggle with my words an inner thing, their desire to disbelieve evident in the silent protest in their eyes. Strongly would they have voiced that protest, and yet, were they to do so, well might they find themselves remaining as slave and sthuvad to armed conquerors. The face of the dark-haired male worked in indecision, his outrage wishing him to speak, his desire to be free cautioning him to silence, and I grinned at sight of his difficulty. Much as all males were these Sigurri, yet had they learned a measure of discretion with Midanna.

“You are amused,” said the red-haired male, a touch of annoyance to his tone, his light eyes regarding me steadily. “This tale you tell us is fantastic indeed, yet our disbelief does no more than amuse you. I know not whether it be true or not, and yet— What if we refuse to guide you to our city?”

“Then I shall remain here and greet the strangers with none save my warriors,” I shrugged, biting again at the paslat. “It is not I who demands the presence of the Sigurri, but the dark god himself who would have it so. Should there be one to whom you must answer, it will be he.”

“Indeed do you speak as though well acquainted with the dark god,” scoffed the dark-haired male, an additional affront seeking to claim him. “We are loyal warriors of his creed, loyal to his temple and loyal to his presence. Should he seek in our hearts, he will not find us wanting.”

“Perhaps not,” I agreed, purposely thoughtful. “And yet was it his desire for the presence of his warriors which caused Mida to call me to her, so that he might accept or reject me as his envoy. That I am here and aware of you must stand as proof of my acceptance, proof that I ride in his name as well as in the name of Mida. That I am able to force you to my will has no bearing; such a thing I shall not do. Should you refuse to guide me, so be it. I shall release you to go your way as I go mine.”

“And keep all battle glory to your wenches alone,” growled a third male, one of those two with light hair. “Should it be the truth you speak, girl, our forces are meant to stand beside yours, spilling the blood of the enemies of Sigurr the mighty. Should you seek to keep the glory from us, it is you who shall find the need to answer to the dark god.”

“As to the truth of her words,” said the red-haired male, “I believe I now see a thing which supports the contention even beyond her knowledge of our origins. Upon the darkness previous was there a deep wound in her shoulder, accompanied by those other, lesser wounds; this I saw with my own eyes, yet is that deep wound now healed beyond all memory of it. Is it possible for such a thing to be, save at the intervention of Sigurr himself?”

“Indeed not,” said the dark-haired male, the thoughtful tone of the red-haired one touching him as well. “I, too, saw the wound she had, and yet now am I able to see naught save a faint line in its place. What are we to do, Mehrayn?”

“It seems clear we have little choice,” said the red-haired male, stirring his chains as he moved his large body. “And yet would it be well for us to discuss the matter alone, among ourselves. Have us removed from this wall, wench, and provide us with a place of privacy.”

Much did the male seem prepared for my immediate obedience, but that was scarcely forthcoming. Silently did I remain in my crouch before him, feeding upon the paslat I held, curious as to how long a time must pass before understanding reached him. As it happened, no more than a moment was necessary.

“Very well,” said he, nearly at once, the annoyance once more with him. “You are leader to these others, and must be properly coaxed and tickled. To deny the need would be idle. May we impose upon your generosity, great war leader, and ask to be allowed some moments of privacy? We are mere men, and must consult with one another.”

The grins the others grew at the red-haired male’s insolence had no power to anger me, for these were indeed no more than males with whom I spoke. That they thought themselves untouchable was clear, a notion they had best be disabused of.

“Of a certainty you may have the privacy you require,” I replied, smiling as I rose from my crouch. “My warriors will see to it immediately.”

I turned from them and walked to the platform, tossed the paslat bone upon it and again took up my goblet of renth, then gestured Palar to my side.

“Those four males with black strokes upon their shoulders,” said I to her, tasting of the renth. “Though it grieves me to deprive you, Palar, they are not again to be put to sthuvad use. They must soon be set free to go where they will, and yet I would see them discomforted in a small way before the time of their release. Have your warriors place them in an enclosure, their chains upon them, and then have the enclosure covered over, with drapings from the walls if need be. Proper provender is to be given them later, when your warriors have awakened from their rest; for now let that cooked grain called gruel suffice them.”

“It shall be as you say, Jalav,” acknowledged Palar, a faint grin touching her. “The males now examine their chains as though expecting to be quickly freed of them. Such a belief, of course, could not have been fostered by you.”

“Most certainly not,” I agreed, matching her grin. “Privacy was requested, and privacy did I agree to grant them. That they assume unchaining is also to be their lot is totally unwarranted. I leave you to see to their rude awakening.”

“Where do you go now, Jalav?” asked Palar, no more than a glance for the goblet I emptied and returned to the platform. “Do you send us all to our rest and intend none for yourself?”

“I will rest when I have tended to the last of the city males,” said I, finding the need to stretch widely. “In the interim, what rest I had during the darkness will suffice. It was, my excellent war leader, a good deal more than you, yourself, may boast of.”

“Your point is well taken, war leader,” laughed Palar, shaking her head. “Your rest would have been more had you had no more than a hin of sleep. I shall now see to your males.”

She turned from me to choose among her warriors in the chamber, therefore was I able to take myself off toward the doors of the place. As I approached them I spied Rogon taking her ease among a number of her warriors, the male Relidose seated upon the flags not far from them. In some manner had I forgotten the presence of the male, and a glance at the quickly covered misery to be seen in his eyes showed he was well aware of my lapse of memory. Slowly did the male rise to his feet at my approach, yet was it Rogon to whom I gave my attention, for the diminutive war leader clearly had news.

“Two hands of males await you, Jalav,” said she, stepping forward as I neared. “They are led by the male who spoke with you earlier, he who brought the male you bested. The male insisted that I apprise you of his presence at once, yet did it seem to me that you had no wish to be disturbed. Was my estimation in error?”

“Not in the least, Rogon,” I smiled, placing my hand upon her shoulder. “It will do the males little harm to await my pleasure. What is your estimation of their overall attitude?”

“They seem much like those who anticipate their ending, Jalav,” said she, a puzzled look to her as she gazed up at me. “The thought has come that they intend setting upon you when you appear, throwing their lives away in an effort to take our leader from us. They none of them appear the least familiar with weapons, and yet what other thing might there be to so take the spirit from them?”

“I fear these city folk have little in the way of spirit to begin with,” I sighed, withdrawing my hand from her. “I shall go now to speak with them, yet am I to be informed immediately upon the return of Palar’s warriors, who see to an errand for me. Keep your warriors close, for there shall soon be a further thing to be seen to.”

“We shall indeed be close,” nodded Rogon, her tone even despite the strong resolve to be seen in her eyes. “You seem to anticipate no attack from these males, Jalav, yet shall we be near enough to insure their peaceful intent.”

She then gestured to her warriors, bringing them closer, allowing me no further say in the matter. Again I sighed, for dealing with war leaders was not the same as dealing with warriors. To command war leaders was at times to be commanded by them, it seemed, a state I was not overly familiar with. Perhaps wisest would have been to allow no such commands from those I commanded, and yet did it seem wiser still to say naught concerning their resolve to see to my protection. I would not rest easy till I had begun the journey south, and first seeing to the city would require the assistance of all those with me.

The males awaited me in a corridor not far distant from the chamber of slaves, the weak-featured Thierlan leading two hands of those who seemed much like him. Some few were of a greater stature, one of a lesser, and yet, great or small, each seemed pursued by invisible worry and fear. They stood in their drab city coverings in the center of the corridor, each beside another, each taking comfort from the presence of the others, for none bore weapons from which they might take comfort. Their eyes came to me as I approached them, and much did it seem that they shrank back rather than gathered what dignity remained to them, to face what demands I would make. Truly did they seem captives to conquerors, their mien bringing disgust to the faces of those warriors who guarded them.

“We have come as you commanded, lady,” said Thierlan as I halted before him, sending my gaze about those who accompanied him. “Our entire Council now stands before you, each man personally approved of by the High Seat—by him who was called High Seat.”

The manner in which the male stumbled in his speech brought my attention to him, and a grimace of pain crossed his features as he nodded.

“Yes, it has finally been proven to us without doubt that we have paid homage to one unworthy of such homage,” said he, nearly choking upon the words. “Had he truly been chosen by the Serene Oneness, his champion would have emerged victorious from the meeting of blades. The disaster which has fallen upon our city is clearly due to his presumption in taking to himself the office of High Seat.”

Those other males about Thierlan immediately muttered complete agreement with his words, some seeming outraged by the deceit perpetrated upon them. Much did I wish to point out that any with eyes would have known the portly male for what he was, yet were these males before me without eyes for the truth. It had been they and their ilk who had allowed the portly male his will in all things, just as they now sought to place all guilt upon shoulders other than their own. These city males were like the leaves upon the trees, which bent in new directions each time the wind blew differently; just then they would bend to my urging, and that right eagerly.

That which I required of these males was simple in the asking, yet not so simple in the doing. I wished the city folk to return to their usual manner of doing as quickly as possible, yet was it necessary to demand safeguards against further attack upon my warriors. The suggestion of specific hostages to bind those within the city was immediately rejected by me, as even males might well be capable of sacrificing themselves for their brothers. Instead did I make it plain to the wide-eyed males before me that should another attack occur, the entire city would be razed to the ground and those who survived sent possessionless into the forests. To have the city remain intact was unnecessary to my needs, therefore was the choice of its survival or destruction given over to those who dwelt within its confines. Should they wish to do without it, they need only attack again.

With the understanding of my intent clear to all, I then spoke again of the coming strangers. With nine full clans of Midanna warriors I scarcely needed untried males to swell their ranks, yet did I inform these Council males that any of their city who wished to join us in battle might apply for training under the eyes of my warriors. Even should the Sigurri refuse to join us, it was not my intent to allow those who trained with us to stand in battle; the offer was made to mark out those city folk who would be most apt to raise sword against the warriors who had taken their city. In such a manner would they be known to us and before our eyes, rather than skulking about in discontent. My offer was accepted by the males with a pathetic eagerness that suggested they thought themselves offered an equality with those who had conquered them. Such a belief was absurd, of course, for none would wish to greet a vanquished people as equals, and yet such was the belief of these males. Truly are males strange creatures, taking unto themselves that which they deny to others, though their strangeness is at times of use to warriors.

There were many topics to be discussed between us, the males then insisted, far too many for the small amount of patience I felt; nevertheless did I have a wooden seat and a large pot of renth brought and grimly attempted to listen. Thierlan was greatly concerned over the need to hunt for the city and trade for foodstuffs, the need for guarding the city from those both without and within, the need to direct the city folk in their daily doing, and such like matters. Thoughtfully did I sip from my flagon of renth, understanding no more than a part of that which I was told. To protect the city from attack from without was clear enough, yet what of the matter of attack from within? For what reason would a people suffer the presence amongst them of those who would offer them harm? And for what reason need one keep watch over those of whom chores are required? Should the necessary remain undone, she—or, as these were males, he—need only be expelled from the group as a useless hanger-on. My thoughts upon these subjects undoubtedly would not have been to the liking of the males, yet a timely interruption was brought by Rogon which forestalled disagreement. The warriors who had been sent to take that area called dungeons had returned with two further captives to add to those already within the chamber of slaves. Surely had I thought the males would have learned from what had previously been done to them, yet it seemed they learned slowly in matters of self-defense. Rather than accept this news and return to the previous discussion I had been swallowed up in, I put my flagon aside and rose to my feet.

“These matters of the city shall be seen to in due time,” said I to the males, reflecting that it was now possible to fetch Rilas from our camp and draw upon her wisdom to see to those matters. “For now there is another thing of more immediate need to concern us, and I would have you all accompany us in the doing of it. Perhaps it will assist you in understanding more fully the male you once regarded as blessed.”

The males looked upon one another in lack of understanding and faint trepidation, yet were they quick to follow once I led off, Rogon beside me, her warriors arrayed about the males. The walk through the floor-clothed corridors was not long, for the area which led to the dungeons was no more than bare stone floors and walls, uncovered and undecorated. A now-open doorway gave access to the steps to be descended, and as my feet trod the rough stone made smooth by many previous feet, I became aware of the slowly lessening warmth which I had noted upon the first instance of my descent. The walls, so close about the rough-hewn steps, glistened more and more with damp the deeper we went, accompanied by feebly flickering torches which were not quite near enough one to the other to entirely dispel the shadows all about. A silence broken only by breathing hung upon the sound of descending footsteps, a sound which lessened as those who followed attempted to quiet their intrusion upon the silence of the depths. I knew well the disturbance brought home to one who had never before descended that distance into the ground, yet was I more concerned with the memories home in upon me as the stink of the depths grew to overwhelm the clean, fresh air we had left. Death was a hovering member of that stink, as was pain and fear and horror; I continued to lead the spiral way down, and breathed as little as I might.

The final step into the depth found Rogon as reluctant as I to touch the cold, clammy stone with bare feet, yet did she go forward as I did, even more reluctant to halt. Before us, a scant few paces ahead, stood the door of metal which normally shut off that area called dungeons; it now stood ajar as it had been left when the males behind it had been taken. Those males in my wake trod the stones lightly, lightly, as though in fear of awakening some ravening beast, yet they knew not the true nature of the beast, he who had now been chained. Soon would they learn, soon would they know that which they had been serving, and soon would they be given the opportunity of redeeming that service.

“Follow closely and do not stray,” said I to the males, my voice sounding flat and lifeless in those depths. “Rogon, there are torches to be found within this doorway. We will require a hand of them.”

“Immediately, war leader,” replied Rogon, disallowing a shudder to touch her as she gestured a hand of warriors forward. Within the metal doorway burned two torches, from which the others might be lit, yet the darkness pressed closer despite their presence. The males also pressed close, too fearful even to look about themselves, pressed down by the weight of the ground above us and the thickness of the stench all about. No sound was raised in protest from the warriors with us, yet did they loosen their blades as they raised the torches high, suspicious not so much of the darkness and the stench as that which produced it.

The task I had set to my own hand was one I did not relish, yet was it a task which badly needed seeing to. With all the torches lit I led the way into the darkness, farther away from the doorway by which we had entered, farther into the stench and an awareness of low, flesh-tearing sound. The males and warriors behind me stirred uneasily when the sound made itself felt, unaware of its source, unaware of that which awaited us. I spoke no word in explanation, merely continued forward, and eventually, after many reckid of walking, reached the blank wall which marked the far end of the area where the search might be begun.

The first four rows of cells, on either side of the central corridor, all proved themselves unoccupied. It was not till we had reached a cell in the fifth row upon the right that we found the first evidence of that which I sought. The metal door swung wide and the torch flared upon the picked-clean bones of what had once been a living being, forever still in the five chains that held it at throat, wrists and ankles. Three dark shapes fled the torchlight with squeals, shapes which preferred to inhabit the darkness, shapes I knew well from my time in those dungeons. Scarm they were called, and their movement close upon the sight of the one long gone caused the males to gasp and Rogon’s warriors to reach for their swords. I, however, did no more than gesture the door closed again, for there was naught which might be done for the cell’s occupant. There were others who undoubtedly waited farther on, and those were the ones I felt the need to seek oat.

Perhaps three corridors farther on was the first of those who awaited assistance. The stench about the cell was so strong that it matte itself known even above the general stench, and once the cell door had been opened more than one male and warrior turned away to gag and empty themselves upon the stone of the floor. He who had once been a male was revealed in the torchlight, scrabbling about upon the floor of the cell, held by no more than the chain about his neck. Empty sockets gaped where once eyes had been, both feet were gone to the ankles, and two skeletal arms flapped from a stick-thin, nearly naked body. Scraps of faded, filthy cloth clung to that body, doing naught to cover the festering sores and gaping wounds which stood out even among the patches of filth. A low, continuous mewling moan came from the thing as it dragged itself through piles of defecation and scarm bones to reach the trickle of water in the corner of the cell, the sound ceasing only when a hand with too few fingers reached a palmful of water to the gap-toothed mouth. There was no indication in its movements that it was aware of those who stood and regarded it, yet Thierlan, when he came hesitantly forward to grip my arm, moved and spoke in the softest of whispers.

“I believe—it is possible—I know that man,” he gasped, skin pale in the torchlight, illness clearly all through him. “Perhaps half a kalod ago, the High Seat demanded the gift of a female slave from one Ostrion, a blacksmith of the city. The wench he wished had not been declared slave, for she was a distant relative of this Ostrion and therefore beneath his protection. Ostrion was to disavow the girl, allowing her to be declared slave, in return for which he was to receive the smile of the Blessed One, which would greatly enhance his standing in the city. Ostrion refused to disavow the pretty little thing, saying her mother had been dear to him when they both were children, and many considered him foolish for so refusing the desires of the High Seat. When, one fey not long after the refusal, the guard of the High Seat came and took up the wench, Ostrion was not to be found. No man in the city has seen him since—till now. We must release him immediately. ”

“To what purpose?” I asked, forcing myself to look upon the wreck which crawled and mewled upon the floor. “Are you able to return that of which he has been bereft of—including his reason? There is naught left of that which was, no more than pain unending and the agony of insanity. Are you able to look upon him and deny him the final favor?”

Slowly, with great reluctance, Thierlan’s eyes turned from the crawling thing to regard me with pleading, yet was my sense of decision too strong for the male to deny. The truth could not be refused in that place, and though he shivered with the necessity, he also nodded acquiescence.

“I am a man,” said he, speaking more for himself as he attempted to straighten himself. “As it must be done, I shall do it. ”

A dagger from the leg-bands of one of Rogon’s warriors was placed in Thierlan’s hands, and with a short hesitation and a great shudder, the male saw to him who had once been Ostrion the smith, opening the thing’s throat above the collar and allowing the final rest. The balance of the males looked on in silence, no scorn to be seen in any of them even when Thierlan turned from the kindness he had performed and covered the filthy floor with his illness. Rogon and her warriors stood by in a matching silence, and they, too, failed to evince disapproval. The doing had not been one even warriors were well used to, and the male, despite his illness, had acquitted himself with honor.

The balance of our search was conducted in grim silence, and each victim found was dispatched by a male. In one cell was a female discovered, her face and body cut cruelly into horror, the life nearly fled from her, the thin metal collar above the neck chain proclaiming her slave. What her trespass had been was not discovered, for even the teeth of the scarm had failed to rouse her from her stupor. The male who dispatched her turned away with tears in his eyes, matched by the same in the eyes of some few of the others. The rest seemed filled with a poorly controlled fury, and none retained the look of fear they had worn when first they had come to that place. The males had been deeply touched, it was clear, as deeply touched as I had wished them to be.

The nearer we came to the doorway by which we had entered, the greater grew the number of cells which were tenanted. Some few of these were in need of the final favor, yet by far the largest number were in suitable condition to be released. Many and many of these captives were known to the males who accompanied me, each of them proving to be those who had, in one manner or another, displeased the former High Seat. Some were travelers from other cities, who had been accused of that which was termed crime before being sent to the dungeons, eventually to be declared slave. All these did we release and assist toward the outer corridor, in the company of warriors, emptying one cell after the other till there were no further cells to be emptied. Only then did we take ourselves after those we had released, through the doorway and into the area beyond.

“In the name of the Serene Oneness, I swear this is the first full breath I have taken since we descended,” said one of the males, mopping at his brow with a cloth. Nearly as portly as the former High Seat was this male, yet his fury at what he had seen made him far from the same ilk.

“I had thought the air here fetid,” said Thierlan in answer, wiping his palms upon the covering he wore. “In comparison to that which is found within, it is the purest of summer breezes. What are we to do with those we have released, lady? Are they to continue being considered as prisoners?”

“Has any of them done anything detrimental to your city?” I asked in turn, regarding the male. “Much does it seem that their sole trespass was upon the whims of him who was called blessed. This city, though in our capture, remains yours. Do with them as you please.”

“Then we shall release them completely,” replied Thierlan, a pleased look to him. “Their families will be eager to see to their wounds and sores and hunger. Let us attend to the matter at once.”

With the decision made, we were able to continue upon our way to the surface, far from the horror and stench from below ground. The males climbed eagerly but steadily, fully aware of what lay behind them and no longer fearing it. They had exercised an honor long kept dormant, and now felt themselves as more for the doing of it; the males knew it not, yet would there be further matters which would allow them to feel so. Warriors have little liking for associating with cravens, and see the matter done differently whenever it is within their power to do so.

Upon reaching the surface once more, the males assisted their fellow city folk in departing the dwelling. All moved slowly with the pain of chains but recently removed, a tremble to their hands, a squint to their eyes. Much did they seem like those returned from death, disbelieving yet deeply grateful, eager to be on yet fearful that their newfound freedom might prove to be a dream sent to torment them. Those who were not of the city were placed in the care of those warriors who had freed them, warriors who were incensed that any might be done as these males had been done. To face an enemy in battle and slay him was no more than a doing filled with glory; to take an enemy and place him away from Mida’s light, to deny him the right of self-defense, was an act too scurrilous to think upon. The once-captive males would be tended by the newly captured males beneath the eye of warriors; should the service be less than satisfactory, the new captives would be speedily informed.

“Jalav, I give thanks to Mida that we have returned to her light,” said Rogon, watching as her warriors assisted the males we had freed to an untenanted chamber in the dwelling. “Should it be her will that I need never return to that place, I will be forever grateful.”

“I think, Rogon,” said I, “that we must return there but one time further. We have released all those unjustly placed there; we have not as yet brought down the one who most deserves the place. ”

Slowly did she turn to stare at me, as slowly the meaning of my words came to her. Where once she would have been full eager to assist me, now she did no more than shake her head.

“I know not whether I have the stomach for the thing,” she quietly informed me, a great disturbance to be seen in the dark of her eyes. “Does not honor demand that even the portly one be given the opportunity of defending his life or losing it?”

“How may one deal honorably with a male who knows no honor?” I shrugged. “To do so would be a slap at the very meaning of honor. The horror he has meted out to others must be his, else are all things just and honorable spat upon and trampled into the dirt. How easily would your soul rest if you had found death in those dungeons, the while he was allowed a clean death in battle?”

“Not easily at all,” muttered Rogon, her eyes continuing to hold to mine, and then a faint smile touched her. “You have made your decision clear in my eyes as well as your own, war leader, and for this I thank you. I shall, of course, follow as always. ”

“And, as always, you are welcome, Rogon,” I smiled. “Come. I would have the thing done with and behind me as soon as possible. ”

Her fervent nod of agreement brought a wider smile to my lips, though there was little to smile at thereafter. The male was taken easily enough from his enclosure, yet were daggers necessary when he learned of our destination. Bringing him to a cell and placing him therein without taking his life proved a difficult matter; he, fearing the horrors he had so lightly sent others to, fought his chains and our daggers till our strength was nearly spent. When once his soft, fatty throat had been placed in a neck chain, Rogon and I quitted the place, bearing with us the torch we had brought, closing and bolting the cell door upon the male’s screams of terror. Truly would slaying him out of hand have proven easier, yet that which is easily done is not always just. The male had earned his terror many times over; the length of that terror would be left to the discretion of his god.

I returned with Rogon to the chamber of slaves, directed her to the rest the others had already begun to take, then looked briefly upon the enclosure which had been covered over with blue wall silk, providing the occupants of the enclosure with complete privacy. Once my warriors had taken their rest, it would be necessary to release the Sigurri males. Their decision would likely be the one which I desired, yet must I consider what action to take should they turn to the stubbornness most males seemed prone to. To attempt forcing the location of their city from them would undoubtedly prove futile; wisest would be to follow at a distance, remaining undiscovered . . . .

“Jalav.” The single word, in the voice of a male, snatched my attention from the far reaches and sent my hand toward my sword. Relidose, who had spoken, backed a step in surprise, then saw the reason for the abruptness of my actions.

“It was not my intention to intrude upon your thoughts,” said he, an odd look about him as he attempted a smile. “I thank the Serene Oneness I did not place a hand upon your shoulder. I am unused to wenches who reach so quickly for a sword.” The attempted smile then returned from whence it had come, and he retook the step he had earlier given up. “Those men—the four in the cage covered with silk,” he said, his voice now heavy. “I saw the manner in which you spoke with them, as though they were your equals despite their chains. I would know if you mean to-take up with them.”

The dark eyes of the male clung to my face, his hands tightened to fists. Males are filled with great strangeness, a truth I had learned when Fideran had been my male. Ever had Fideran sought to keep me as his alone, a foolishness no other than a male would attempt, for what male would be allowed a say in the doings of a war leader? This Relidose now seemed about to attempt the same, an annoyance I saw no reason to tolerate.

“The intentions of a war leader are rarely discussed with the male who follows her,” said I, making no attempt to soften the sting of the words. “He who follows Jalav does so without question and without demand, asking for naught, taking no more than what is given. I had thought you understood this, male.”

Relidose continued to stare a moment longer, then did a deep sigh take him.

“I had hoped—I might turn the matter about,” said he, and then was he even closer. “I shall give you my love, and then will you know more of him who follows you, he who burns to bring you pleasure. That pleasure will be so great that you will then follow me, Jalav, to my house and to the life we will share. I knew from the moment I first saw you that I must have you, and I shall.”

His brawny arms then rose to place themselves about me, to draw me closer, to hold me to his chest. This the male was intent upon doing, so intent that he failed to see the dagger in my hand till its point reached a short way into his throat.

“My life is the belonging of Mida, to do with as she wills,” said I, taking no note of how still the male had become beneath my blade. “To see Jalav as a city slave-woman is to be without sight, for Jalav is destined to ride forever in the service of Mida. Go and find another to give pleasure to, male, and thank your god that Mida did not demand your service herself. I have seen those in her chains, and their screams are most unsettling.”

I then stepped back from the male, withdrawing my dagger from his throat, yet retaining it in my grip. The male put a hand to his throat to touch the small trickle of red which the dagger had freed, vast confusion and hurt all through him, and then did he shake his head.

“I will not be refused,” said he, his voice no more than a whisper. “I have prayed to the Serene Oneness that he grant you to me, and my prayers will be answered. This fey or the next, this kalod or the next, you will be mine.”

With such words did he then turn and walk off, leaving me with a frown. I had little need of such additional foolishness with the tasks yet before me, and best would be to see the male barred from the dwelling. Quickly, then, did I follow to see the male well gone, paused to speak with those warriors who guarded the chamber of slaves, and then, at long last, was able to seek rest of my own.