The Will of the Gods

10 The fruits of success—and betrayal

The new fey was as gray as the last had been, lacking only the fall of Mida’s tears. A small breeze touched me as I walked to the urging of the male’s hand upon my arm, the small movement of the air bringing only a small lessening of the heat which sat upon all like a warrior upon a gando. Many warriors looked upon me as I was taken past them, therefore did I attempt to straighten myself as I walked, as befitted a war leader of Midanna. What success I had I was unable to judge, for no more than wordless murmurings came to me from those who watched, and then was I approaching Ennat and the nine war leaders, they who would decide if I indeed rode as the chosen of Mida.

“We greet you, Jalav of the Hosta,” said Ennat as I halted before her, yet she frowned rather than smiled. Indeed was the Keeper larger than I, and as I attempted to straighten even further in my stance, her hand came to my shoulder. “How great is the pain you feel?” she demanded in low-voiced anger, her sharpened glance touching the male beside me. “What number of hind of sleep were you allowed?”

The male Benetros drew his breath in low and backed a step, yet I made no effort to look upon him. His obedience to Kalir had been complete, as was the obedience of the other males, and it had been their spendings alone which had kept the time from giving to them the pain it had given to me. Had I not worn my life sign I might well have been unable to walk, and unconsciousness rather than sleep had taken me for some few hind of the darkness. Had I expected to awaken healed and free of pain I would have found great disappointment, yet had I expected nothing of the sort. Only deep, grievous wounds did my life sign heal, and too lengthy a use by males was not the same. The sole benefit I had reaped from the darkness past was the unbinding of my wrists, and I had come to myself with the new light with much of the pain of first movement already past. I met the anger in Ennat’s gaze with something like annoyance, and shook my head at her.

“What matters what pain I feel or what rest I have had?” I asked, my voice as low as hers had been. “Is the chosen of Mida not able to conquer all, pain and weariness alike? Or is it Mida alone who is able to do so, her chosen no more than a war leader with her blessing? Perhaps we will soon learn the truth of the thing, Ennat, you and your war leaders and I as well.”

“We are here to begin a testing, not to engage in idle chatter,” came the annoyance-filled voice of Kalir before Ennat was able to reply to me. The Keeper and I turned our heads to look upon the Selga, and much satisfaction filled her eyes at my appearance. I stood without covering or weapon of any sort, the aches of my body clearly spread all through me, and such was in accordance with her most ardent desires. Deep hatred had the Selga for she who was Jalav, and little attempt did Kalir make to disguise the feeling.

“The term testing may not be equated with the term ‘execution,’ save possibly at its end,” said Faris of the Summa, looking upon Kalir with thinly veiled disgust. “Has the Hosta been allowed provender, either during the darkness or at the beginning of this fey? Our aim in this testing is to make success difficult, not wholly impossible. That would prove naught save that Mida’s chosen was mortal, a thing we are already aware of.”

“Faris speaks truly,” came another voice before Kalir might reply, surprisingly the voice of Ludir. She who wore Simna green stood herself beside Faris and looked upon the Selga with little approval. “There is little glory to be found in facing one who has difficulty in holding herself erect, and little honor in sending such a one forth to survive against great odds. I would have the Hosta survive to face me, Kalir, and would have the besting of her to be sweet. Should we allow you to continue as you have so far done, I will have neither thing.”

“I, too, must cast my vote with Ludir,” said Renin of the Somna with great reluctance, yet with no uncertainty. “Though it would please me to end the Hosta without delay, if we have committed ourselves to testing, we must proceed with honor. Never have I faced a challenger who was unfit to face me, and never shall I do so. To handicap the Hosta too greatly is to make a mockery of our avowed intentions, and I will have none of it. At the very least she must be given water, for no one may face this heat without it and survive.”

Kalir the Selga looked all about herself, seeing agreement even on the faces of those who stood with her. Again she fought down her anger, and then she faced the three who had spoken in opposition to her with a nod.

“Very well,” said she, her capitulation stiff with resentment. “The Hosta may have what water she requires, that and no more! What sense in testing her in the first place, if the testing is not to be nearly impossible to survive? Are we not agreed that she must triumph against odds which we, ourselves, could not hope to best? Do you wish to find the necessity of following one who is given victory through the efforts of those who feel pity for her? The chosen of Mida will survive without the efforts of others, for Mida herself stands beside her. Will you hold your pity in abeyance, so that the truth might be known? If you do not, this foolishness may the well be ended upon the moment.”

Again was there silence caused by the words of the Selga, a silence which returned a large measure of satisfaction to her. Truly well versed in twisting words was Kalir, yet was there no denial of the truth she spoke. Water was brought me, a wetness which flowed down the burning channel of my throat and returned some measure of strength to me, and then did Ennat briefly touch my shoulder again.

“The first of your trials may well become also the last, Jalav of the Hosta,” said she, speaking the words required of her with gravity and clarity. “You will enter the forests hereabout just as you are, without weapons of any sort, and behind you will come many warriors of our clans. Those warriors have been charged to hunt you down, and will do so with all the skill they possess. Only with Mida’s aid will you find yourself able to elude them, and this you must do till darkness has fallen. At that time, if you are able, you must return here uncaptured and undetected, else shall the trial be looked upon as a failure on your part. Should you be captured you will be slain, and should you return there will be other trials. How say you?”

“I am to go into the forests, alone and unarmed, to elude all pursuit till darkness, and you ask what I say?” I smiled somewhat at the sobriety of the Keeper, then did I move my eyes to Kalir where she stood, wrapped in smug complaisance. “I say that I will return when darkness has fallen, and perhaps see to a task or three which I now leave undone. No true follower of Mida need fear that return.”

“No one of any sort need fear that return,” said Kalir, her complaisance undisturbed. “What reason to fear a return which will not occur?”

“Your continued self-possession pleases me, Selga,” I said, my half smile widening a bit. “Mida frowns upon giving challenge to the fearful.”

“Also does Mida frown upon accepting challenge from the dead,” she returned, still undaunted. “Your survival in the forests is impossible, therefore do I look forward to your return—dragged lifeless behind those who slay you. In no other manner shall you return.”

Again I allowed my smile to widen, yet rather than reply I turned from her, to look upon Ennat. The Keeper returned that look with a good deal of penetration, perhaps seeing that I spoke only to bring disquiet to the Selga, for the pain and weariness I felt would likely do for me exactly as the Selga wished. No words did Ennat speak upon what she saw, however, for other words waited in their place.

“Once you have reached the forests, our warriors will wait no more than two hands of reckid before following,” said she, her sobriety turned to calm. “Should you truly be Mida’s chosen, I ask that she guard you as only she may do; should you be other than chosen, I ask that she allow your soul what peace it has earned in your place as her war leader. You may now begin.”

Those about me stepped back at the words which signaled the onset of the trial, and I, with what strength and dignity was left to me, turned and made for the edge of the forests across the meadow. Those warriors who watched the proceedings formed an aisle of sorts, one it was considerably easier taking than ignoring. I walked the aisle far across the meadow, beneath the eyes of warriors without number and the gray of the skies, walked beyond the aisle, then entered the forests.

Two hands of reckid, I thought as I looked about, taking myself from the sight of those behind as quickly as I was able. Two hands of reckid to elude the pursuit of countless numbers of warriors, all fresh and alert, all eager to bring down the enemy who had dared to attempt claiming their leadership. Much did I believe that the trial was of Kalir’s devising, yet it mattered not. A chosen of Mida might well survive the time, yet the aid of the goddess was unlikely to be given me. Triumph or failure would be mine alone, and yet would failure be punished as though I had been offered aid and had spurned it. This was I certain of above all other things, therefore was it necessary that I make the attempt.

I stumbled past bushes and trees for a very short time, painfully aware of how little distance I had put between myself and the visiting meadow, and then did I see that which caused me to halt, blinking in confusion. A small patch of green cloth hung upon a bush beside a small patch of blue cloth, and the strangeness extended beyond the presence of cloth upon a bush in the forests. The blue was Summa blue, yet the green was Hosta green, a color not easily found in those lands. I remained where I had halted another moment, finding difficulty in believing what I saw, for surely Faris would not have gone against the decision of her sister war leaders to such an extent that assistance would be—

I halted the thought even as I began moving forward again, silently cursing the mindlessness which flowed from my weary and aching body upward. Faris was not alone in wearing Summa blue, and though Wedin and Dotil had not been able to remain by my side, they had clearly not forgotten the vow they had made. I gained the cloth-hung bush quickly, paying no heed to the flashes of greater pain which attempted to claim me despite the life sign I wore, then began to look about. Naught was I able to see aside from the circle made by that bush and the ones it stood with, and for a moment I knew despair; perhaps the cloth had been left as merely a token, a reminder that others stood with me. What aid a token would be I knew not, for even the knowledge that sisters kept me in their thoughts was not sufficient to overcome the ravages of the darkness. I drew my hand across my face to take the sweat from my eyes, and still I saw naught which would be of aid to me. No more than the bushes and the cloth was there, and best would be to remove the cloth before continuing on.

My limbs fluttered with fatigue and throbbed in an echo of the pain I felt elsewhere, yet would I continue on as long as possible, attempting the impossible. I pulled the cloth from the bush, both Hosta green and Summa blue, yet did the blue cloth fall from my uncertain grip and float to the ground some small distance within the ring of bushes. Wearily yet with a certain haste I went to one knee, reached within the ring for the cloth I dared not leave behind—and only then saw the second bit of cloth in green. Seemingly half buried in the grass did it appear, and had I not gone to one knee, I would surely have missed it among so similar a green as the grass. With the difficulty of sweat and weariness-blurred sight in the gray of a lowering fey, truly must it have been Mida’s doing that I saw it at all. Now was there truly a need for haste, so that the doings of both sisters and goddess not be undone.

In a gait more like a hobble than that of a hunter and warrior, I took branches and returned the way I had come, then retraced my steps a final time, obliterating those steps and the previous ones as I went. No sign of my passage did I leave, and once returned to the circle of bushes, I threw the branches as far as my rapidly fading strength would allow. Only then did I lift the disguising cover from the pit dug in the ring of bushes, taking great care not to disturb the grass arranged upon the close frame of branches. The pit was twice the depth I required and long enough to allow me to stretch out full length, and briefly did I send my thoughts to my Summa sisters, for the doing must truly have taxed them greatly. All over atremble I eased myself into the pit, then replaced the frame of branches and grass. Surely some of the grass must have been disturbed by my movement of the frame, yet was there naught I might do for it. The two hands of reckid I had been given were surely gone, as surely as the strength I had spent in haste. I fingered the cloth I had taken with me into the pit and attempted to ignore how great the heat and lack of air were, for it was necessary that I listen for those who came behind me. Although the pain I felt began to flash with greater urgency, it was necessary that I make no sound which would draw the pursuit to me. I lay in the pit upon my back, attempting to feel naught of what had been done to me, attempting to listen for those who came behind, and in such a way did the darkness find me, ending all of my attempts.

The sound of Mida’s tears came first, pattering all about and bringing a great coolness to my body. For a moment I knew not where I was, and then did memory return of the pit I had found, the pit which had seemingly not been found by others. I moved somewhat in the damp and wet which had seeped through the covering of grass to reach me, and was greatly surprised to discover that both weariness and pain were no longer mine. The sleep I had slept had been the sleep of healing, a fact also attested to by the great hunger I felt.

With great pleasure I stretched as far as the pit would allow, then did I begin to feel all about me in the dark, seeking that which would surely not have been forgotten by those who had prepared the pit. In a moment my hand touched leather, and a moment later saw me stretched upon my side, taking great bites of the roast kirol which had been left in the leather sack. Also did my sense of smell inform me that daru had been left, yet had I a greater need of the kirol. Healing hunger was a thing which might not be overlooked, and I ate with greater appetite to know that Mida had not truly abandoned me. Much did it seem that I had misjudged the goddess, and yet, how might I not have done so? To fully understand the will of the gods, one must needs be a god herself, and this Jalav most certainly was not. No more than mortal was Jalav, with mortal loves and hates. This would Kalir learn, though possibly not believe, when Jalav returned to the visiting meadow.

Without haste did I finish both provender and daru, and only then did I lift the frame above me somewhat, to see what part of the fey it was. Through the heavily falling tears of Mida, I was able to see that darkness was not far distant, the time I had hoped it would be. With great care did I lift the frame higher and take myself out of the pit, giving silent thanks to the goddess for the strength of her tears. My body and hair were well covered with the mud the bottom of the pit had become, and it would be necessary to wash that mud from me before I returned to the visiting camp. I had no wish to give even the smallest hint of the manner in which I had survived the trial to those who waited, for surely would they consider the matter done with the aid of one other than Mida. They would not see that Mida had aided me as well, and all would have gone for naught. No, the truth was not for those who waited, for truth is at times more misleading than lies.

With the mud finally washed from me, I began my return to the visiting tents. This time were those who searched weary and aching, and she who eluded them well rested and in full health. Not without difficulty did I pass those who continued to hunt me, yet was I as much Midanna as were they, not city slave-woman or male to make my presence known throughout the forest. At times was it necessary to crawl upon my belly, the ends of my hair trailing in the mud, the rain beating upon me as though in anger, yet did I make my way at last to the tent of Ennat. Through growing shadows close about the tents had I crept, yet was I proudly erect when I stepped through the opened tent flap before those who waited; the glare of the animal-fat candles bringing a narrowing to my eyes. At first was there no notice taken of she who stood silently by the opened flap, and then did Ennat look up with a start of surprise.

“Despite the uncertainty caused by the rains,” said I, disallowing any other to speak before me, “I believe it must be agreed that darkness has fallen. Is this trial now done with?”

“Hosta, you have returned!” cried Faris, rising quickly to her feet with a number of the other war leaders. “Despite the difficulties you faced, you are alive and unharmed!”

“More than merely alive and unharmed,” said Ennat, a wondering to her tone, she making no attempt to stand as did others. “The pain and weariness no longer trouble you, and that after a full fey of being hunted. Surely must the hand of Mida have caressed you, and wrapped you firmly about to shield you from harm. Is it possible to retain any doubt of this?”

“It is more than possible to retain doubt!” snapped Kalir, a true fury upon her, her hands turned to fists at her sides where she stood. “Those who hunted the Hosta were unable to find her track through the forests, therefore is it likely that she was met and taken away by others, most probably a number of those who follow her! Having been tended carefully throughout the fey, she now stands before us with the pretense of full health, yet am I not to be taken in like a credulous Keeper! The Hosta has failed the trial, I say, and must be executed!”

“So I have failed,” said I, again disallowing others to speak before me, my gaze solely upon Kalir as I moved from the flap. “There were those awaiting me in the forests you say; very well, what of their track? In what manner did those who leave no track carry me swiftly enough to elude hunting Midanna? Where was I taken? How is it I was able to return without them? And should my full health be no more than pretense, for what reason do you call for execution rather than give the challenge? Speak again to me, Selga, and say that a hand other than Mida’s soothed away what you gave.”

I stood before the Selga and looked down upon her, finding the fury in her gaze pleasant to meet. A short step back did the Selga take, plain acknowledgment of my own fury, no words coming forth to answer the verbal challenge I had given. This was the manner in which one demanded the leadership of warriors, giving challenge to any who would deny that demand. I stood weaponless and without covering, yet did I stand free, a state Midanna valued above all things save honor.

“Jalav of the Hosta,” said Ennat, gently intruding in the quarrel between two war leaders with apology in her tone for the intrusion. I turned my head to look upon her, and saw that the wonder continued to possess her. “In what manner were you healed through Mida’s intervention?” she asked, much longing to know in the question. “In your tale you spoke of the many times Mida’s blessed aid was yours, yet no true explanation was vouchsafed us. Does she appear before you and lay hands upon you?”

“No, Ennat,” I replied, somewhat amused to see that the Keeper retained her place upon the leather. Well might it have been that she had no wish to stand taller than Mida’s chosen, and that was indeed amusing. “It is Mida’s gift which brings me healing,” said I, raising my hand to touch my life sign. “Before my visit to Mida’s Realm upon this world, my life sign was of wood, as are the life signs of other Midanna. Not only was its substance changed, it now protects my well-being as well as my soul. Its powers have proven themselves beyond doubt.”

“By the Sword and Shield!” breathed Ennat, no longer able to keep from rising and approaching me. Her eyes clung to my life sign and her hand reached out to touch fingers to it, yet did the hand halt just short of the Crystal-like hadat, as though such a touching would be sacrilege. “Surely was it Mida’s doing that I failed to see sooner what life sign you wore,” said she, raising her eyes to mine. “To have the truth of your words proven in such a manner was clearly necessary, as necessary as the trial which you survived. There still, of course, be no further trials.”

“There will be further trials!” came the snarl of Kalir, the sole objection to Ennat’s statement. All joined me in looking upon the Selga, who was now even more taken with fury. “Have you, all of you, forgotten that this is a Hosta?” she demanded of her sister war leaders, her furious gaze touching all save Ennat. “Have you forgotten your anger at her insult, Renin? Or you your desire to face her, Ludir? Have the Hosta never spilled Samma blood, Tarit, or Sarda blood, Telin, or Sedda blood, Belat? Will the Sarra now greet the Hosta as sisters, Melid? Will the Sidda now crawl to the will of an enemy, Hirin? The trial was survived by trickery, sisters, of this I could not be more certain! We must continue to test her till her perfidy has been exposed!”

“Or till you have succeeded in ending her, Kalir?” asked Renin the Sonna, her tone and expression sour. “Indeed did I find insult at her words, yet was that insult given so that my sisters and I might be spared Mida’s anger and punishment. I may look upon one who has such concern for myself and my clan as no other thing than a sister.”

“And my desire to face her is no more,” said Ludir the Simna. “Surely would I refuse to do so even should she now accept my challenge, leaving me with great dishonor. As Mida has sent her to us, how might I raise a blade to her, when it has been clearly demanded that I follow her? What once was is now no more, for Mida has shown us her will.”

“We have been shown no more than the Hosta’s will,” said Kalir, her fury having grown cold and deadly, her gaze moving briefly to the others before returning to me. “I cannot and will not believe that Mida would send an enemy to lead us, and so shall I prove to all of you. I, myself, shall face the Hosta come the new light, and when she falls before me, then shall the will of Mida be known! Blade to blade there may be no trickery, therefore shall the contest decide all; till then, I demand that she continue as a captive.”

High and angrily proud was held the head of Kalir, she who knew the will of Mida more clearly than any other. Again was there the silence of dismay among the others, for challenge had been given to one it might well be sacrilege to challenge—or one who might yet prove an impostor. Touched again by confusion and doubt, these war leaders knew not where the truth lay, therefore was it my place to show it them.

“Wise indeed is Mida the golden,” said I, giving to Kalir a shadow-smile indicating my extreme pleasure. “No more than one Midanna life shall be lost to the sword of her chosen, and that life one of little consequence. Come the new light we will meet, Kalir of the Selga, one war leader to another, skill against skill. Mida will be pleased to speak of your error when you have reached her Realm.”

“My First Question to Mida, when I have at last attained her Realm, will be upon the reason for your having attempted so foolish a deception,” replied Kalir, no amusement whatsoever to be seen upon her. “As you will have preceded me there, she may well give the answering of it to you. Where is she to be confined for the darkness?”

The last of her words were addressed to those who stood about the tent in uncertainty, those who knew not which way to bend in the gale. Ennat stood and gazed solely upon me, far less uncertainty within her than that which held the others, and when none other answered the demand of the Selga, it was she who took up the spear of challenge.

“To confine one who is likely Mida’s chosen is not a thing to be honorably done by Midanna,” said she, speaking comfortably as that one among the clans who is closest to the goddess. “Jalav of the Hosta—who may well soon be Jalav of the Midanna—Will you accept the hospitality of our clans for this darkness, given freely despite the unavoidable hesitation we feel? Never before have we been faced with a decision such as this, therefore do we ask your forbearance till the matter of challenge is done.”

“Indeed is this matter unlike any to have gone before it,” said I, pleased that it would not be necessary for me to refuse confinement. It was not then possible for me to accept such a thing and still retain what standing I had achieved in the eyes of the other war leaders, a fact undoubtedly well understood by Kalir; for no other reason would she have suggested such a thing. “The hospitality of the clans is an honor I accept with pleasure,” said I, “an honor which shows the true generosity of the clans. Further words may be spoken between us once challenge has been answered. ”

“If challenge is answered!” snapped Kalir, nearly beside herself with rage. “To allow this Hosta freedom of the camp is to allow her to run from challenge once all eyes are no longer upon her! The new light will show the truth of my words!”

Fury took the Selga from the tent in broad strides, a departure which left a silence tinged with embarrassment behind. Midanna were not wont to give such insult even to those who have been challenged, most especially not once the challenge has been accepted. I kept my eyes from the flap Kalir had used as though I knew naught of what she had said, and Ennat breathed a sigh in gratitude.

“I must give apology for having naught save a male’s tent to offer,” said she, as though no interruption had occurred. “Should you prefer to remain here, as my guest, it will be my honor to have you, yet do I feel that the privilege of solitude has been earned by you. Will you speak your preference?”

“A tent of males will do me well enough, should the males themselves be kept from the giving,” said I, showing to Ennat a small grimace. “I have, of late, been given far too generous a number of males.”

Ennat colored somewhat at my comment, exchanging quick glances with those others who stood about, yet was she relieved despite her embarrassment at what Kalir had done. Her embarrassment would have been considerably greater had I asked a place in her own tent, for the final challenge had not yet been answered. To say I would send Kalir to Mida’s Realm was not to do the thing, and should I somehow fall instead, the Keeper would be left with the shame of having sheltered an enemy and a liar. To accept the hospitality of all the clans would be to spread the shame and thin it, so that none would feel it more than any other.

“I will have my clan sisters see to the emptying of the tent,” said Faris of the Summa, something of amusement to be seen in her eyes. “Should the males have no other tasks they must see to, they will be given the opportunity of pleasing my warriors, a far more difficult task than the last they were ordered to. Should they not prove pleasing, they will regret it.”

With a nod to me did Faris take herself out of the tent into the darkness and still-falling rain, and Renin of the Sonna gestured to the leather we stood upon.

“As Ennat has offered you our hospitality and you have accepted,” said she, “perhaps you will sit awhile and take daru with us. There are certain points in your tale I would have you speak more fully upon, such as the city of males which was taken by you and your warriors.”

“And Mida’s Realm upon this world,” said Ennat, an eagerness in the gaze she looked down upon me with. “Greatly would it please me to hear further upon that glorious place.”

Words came from the others as well, words of true interest and encouragement, therefore did I take seat upon the black leather and accept a pot of daru from the male who brought it me, then began to speak more fully upon the things I had done and seen. Perhaps two hind passed in such a way, the daru warming me to these warriors who would soon be sisters, and then did Ennat hold up a hand to stem the latest queries which were about to be asked.

“Sisters, it is my duty to remind all here that a challenge will be answered with the new light,” said she, looking about from one war leader to the next. “Would it not be best if the war leader Jalav were to go now to take her rest?”

“Ennat, she is not a warrior-to-be,” laughed Ludir, looking upon the Keeper in amusement. “The Hosta will have no difficulty in answering the challenge.”

“Most especially as it is Kalir she faces,” said Renin, a brief sourness crossing her features. “Had I been Selga, she would long since have forfeited the second silver ring, and her life as well. Much do I believe that her tongue has kept her sword more often idle than any other war leader known. I continue to find wonder that she brought herself to give challenge.”

“Her skill is not so poor that it might be discounted entirely,” said Faris, who had long since returned from her errand, bringing with her my breech. My weapons continued to be absent, nor did any remark upon their whereabouts. They would be returned to me with the new light, and thereafter would they remain with me without question—were I to be victorious. “Kalir earned the second silver ring as did we all,” said Faris, “facing the one who was war leader before her. Do any believe that Adiln was so poor a warrior that the doing was a mere nothing?”

“Adiln was a warrior of skill,” said Renin, her words slow and grudging, yet not to the detriment of Adiln. “I would not take the worth of the doing from Kalir, yet do I continue to see her as less.”

“As we have none of us faced her, we find the matter difficult to judge,” said Ludir, sipping from her pot of daru, her form sprawled lazily upon the black leather. “Perhaps the Hosta and the Selga have met in clan battle?”

“Not in the kalod I stood as war leader,” said I, finishing the daru in my own pot. “Before that, while still a warrior, my clan and the Selga met with Adiln as war leader. Adiln, it seemed to me, was indeed a warrior of skill.”

“Therefore would it undoubtedly be wise of all to seek their tents,” said Ennat, rising to her feet to look about her once again. “She who sleeps beyond first light may well find the battle done when she finally arises—or the best of it already begun.”

“Should it be the Hosta who sleeps past first light, we have naught to fear,” said Ludir with a laugh, yet did she first sit and then bring herself to standing. I, too, rose, as did the others, for it was clear the Keeper desired solitude, and we all had already swallowed much daru.

Those eight war leaders who remained insisted upon accompanying me to the colorless male tent which had been made mine, before trotting away through the heavily falling rain to their own tents. I shook Mida’s tears from my hair as I looked about the now-empty tent, seeing that no more than two candles had been left alight when the males had been taken from it. In no manner was it as fine as the tent which was mine among my own clan’s home tents, nor was the green of the Hosta to be seen on any part of it; nevertheless did the tent seem to welcome me, as one who would soon be fully one with those about her, one who occupied the tent by right. A goodly amount of provender and a skin of daru had been left for me, undoubtedly by the Summa who had taken the males, and in truth was I more greatly pleased to see the provender than the daru. Drink had I had aplenty in the Keeper’s tent, yet provender had not been offered me. Undoubtedly was it the distraction of my tale which had caused the oversight, yet was I pleased to have it so easily corrected. I walked to the place the provender had been put, sat myself before it, then began to heal my hunger.

When I’d had all I wished, I took a swallow or two of the daru, then extinguished the candles and lay myself upon the tent floor. The sound of heavily falling rain was pleasant to hear in the silence of a tent in darkness, and it was my intention to lie listening to it the while I considered how quickly I would take these clans of Midanna from their visiting place to the city of Bellinard. Best would be to leave as quickly as possible, and yet was it necessary to recall that Aysayn undoubtedly led the Sigurri toward the same destination. I knew not whether it would be wisest to seek out the Sigurri or attempt to avoid them, for I knew not how warriors in large numbers would rub along with males of their sort. I moved somewhat upon the tent floor, attempting to gather my scattered thoughts. Of a sudden the tent felt extremely close, bringing a leadenness to my body as well as to my mind, and although I strove to turn to my side and then rise to my knees, I was unable to do so. Upon my back I continued to lie on the tent floor, all beginning to move slowly about me, and then did the darkness grow deeper.

“. . . sleeps as deeply as we wished her to,” came a very soft voice, drawing me part way out of the darkness which surrounded me alone. “I will take her life sign now, and then are you three to carry her to the village. When all is seen to, return to your tents and speak not a word upon what was done.”

“As you command, Kalir,” replied another voice, equally as soft yet not equally as sure. “As you say she is an impostor we shall not doubt you, and yet the other war leaders . . . ”

“Are fools!” snapped the first voice, fury to be heard. “It has been left to my efforts alone to see to the honor of us all! Take the low sednet from my sight as quickly as you are able!”

Murmurs of obedience came as hands touched the leather of my life sign, and then did all hearing slip from me again.

Again the darkness receded somewhat as the wet, half-mud of the ground struck me, bringing me a far-off sense of pain. The sound of gandod-hooves came, lessening quickly as though there were those who rode away, and then were there large hands upon my arms, turning me to my back.

“Well, well, the wenches have cast out another,” came the voice of a male, one who seemed well pleased. “Though this one seems older than the others, also is she considerably more comely.”

“This torchlight shows little beyond mud and rain,” said another male voice, one less pleased than the first. “For what reason was she not brought during the light, as were the others, and for what reason is she unbound?”

“What need to bind one whose senses are afloat?” asked the first male, his hand to my face attempting in vain to shake me to full awareness. “When she has returned to herself we will have the usual difficulty with her, therefore shall we ourselves bind her. It will be some feyd before she is tamed.”

“I will see it sooner than that,” said the second, great annoyance in his tone. “I will not have this village disrupted with screams and weeping and refusals, as it has been in the past. Come the new light . . .”

The voice, so very full of insistences, ceased to beat against my ears as I was lifted from the ground, for again the darkness had come to claim me.